Le Pew

I just got back from an extended family vacation out of State. Well, maybe not actually extended. Maybe it just felt like it was. And maybe while I was there, my brother tried to be on his best behavior because the parentals were there, but maybe his true colors leaked out from time to time and spilled all over his wife. Family. Ya gotta love 'em. No, seriously. You HAVE to. It's like a rule or something.

I always love traveling. This time it meant a trip to museums and seeing things I'd always meant to see, but never get around to actually going to see. My daughter was ecstatic. She fell in love with the Hilton because they had shampoo and conditioner, cream and mouthwash. You should have heard her love affair with the granite counter top. It was hilarious, and maybe a little sad for me to realize that usually when we travel, it's via Super 8s, loud neighbors, and lots of iffy traffic outside. I might have to change my methods.

Travelling also means coming home. I love my home. I love my bed and my cat and my stuff. Know what I don't love? Stink. OHMYGOLLY my house is a reek-fest! I can't figure out where it's coming from! My best bud, Bronwyn Green, came over to care for my cat. She made the trip daily and gave her love along with food.  It was a huge comfort to me.

I knew that there was a wrapped pound of chicken in the fridge that would sour. Because I didn't want it outside in the unseasonably warm weather for animals to find and destroy, I kept it in the fridge with a warning to Bron. So, I expected to come home to minor unpleasantness. I thought the fridge would keep the chicken cold enough to contain the smell until I could take it to the curb. It did, sorta.

Seems to me, I may have lost power while I was gone, because not only does my fridge stink, so does my freezer. I'm not sure about the rules on that, and no one was here to open the suckers and let the cool air out, but I'm thinking there was an extended sans-power extravaganza.

There was eggplant in the fridge too. Together with the chicken, that was a fridge marriage made in Pepe Le Pew hell. I might add at this time, that my dishwasher drain smell rancid. Maybe that's par for the course or something, but after a week of not running it, I think I'm growing never before seen microbes in there that release their unique set of gasses... rather like zombie yeast.

Also, my dining room, not adjacent to the kitchen, stank. So did my office which shares floor space (albeit at a distinct distance and segregated manner) with the dining room. But also, my bathroom, which is nowhere near any of those places.

Now, granted, it's chilly in Grand Rapids and I live in a very rural area with a field out the back of my house. There was every likelihood that I had a mouse. I checked all the traps I'd set. They were still set, still baited with peanut butter. Nada.

Then, oh lordy lordy lordy, the heat kicked on. Folks. I think I know where that smell is coming from and I ain't got no way of fixing it. Somewhere in the unreachable tunnels of central heating ducts, I reckon there's been a creature death.

Dear Pepe Le Pew, I think I just found your next wife. Come and get 'er.

~Mia

I don't make New Year's Resolutions, I make New Year's ResoAWESOMES.

Next week, it will be a new year. Every time we roll around the week after Christmas, my mind is blown. We're about to leave the old year behind. We're about to start a new one! But in this space in between, when no one is doing anything truly constructive, people are just kind of screwing off at their jobs in anticipation of the big end-of-year party, when banks and schools and libraries have insanely strange hours, everything feels so... liminal.

I love liminal spaces. As a kid, I used to hang out in door ways. So this week? This week is my week. I'm standing directly in the doorway of the new year, with the old behind me. When I step through, I need to be prepared.

At this point, I could make a lot of common resolutions. I could say I plan to lose weight. I plan to work harder and write more books. I plan to have a clean house all the time. I'll always have freshly baked cookies, I'll shower every day and wear makeup. I'll go on walks, I'll stop yelling at my dog when kicking him would suffice. No, I'm totally kidding about that last one. My dog lives to be yelled at. It's our love language.

But none of those resolutions would make me happy. People concentrate on using the new year in terms of how to make themselves a better person. By whose standards? I'm a great person already. I'm awesome, and everyone likes me. That's not bragging, that just an honest assessment of the situation. And while I definitely have areas to work on, that's between me and my therapist. That had nothing to do with building the best possible 2012 for me.

So here, in no particular order, are my resolutions for 2012:

1. Build a time machine. Go back to 1994. Enjoy the comforts and prosperity therein.
2. Oh, but put a wifi hotspot in my time machine, because for real, I'm not dealing with dial-up or America Online.
3. Watch at least one episode of Doctor Who every day.
4. Spend as much time just goofing off as I do writing.
5. Craft. Craft like a whore with her ass on fire. If that whore was a crafter.
6. Teach my toddler more swears to shock conservative relatives.
7. Stop worrying about my weigh and my body, because for serious, it's broken down. I need to recognize that God gives everyone different gifts. Mine is eating a whole tray of cupcakes.
8. Figure out the time zone difference between here and Hawaii so I'm not constantly waking up my Navy friend.

Let's just all hope the new year is as prosperous as my year in alternate-past 1994 will be, everybody!

I went to a garden party…

So yep, here I am after missing a week's blogging, quoting Ricky Nelson songs. While Ricky's heyday was a bit before my time, I like a couple of his songs. Garden Party's my favorite. One of the reasons? The line "you can't please everyone, so you got to please yourself." So true.

I think people in general (most of us anyway) are hardwired to want to make others happy and in turn, to receive the glow of praise. It's nice to be liked! To be told…"oh you're so creative…such a good writer…come up with such sexy stuff…" And you bask in that for a few days until the next thing you know, the very same piece elicits the opposite reaction. Not only is it not enjoyed, somehow the themes you were going for, the messages you'd tried to convey were misconstrued. If something doesn't come across, that means somewhere you failed to convey the message. But if some people got it just fine, you wonder how to approach that topic the next time…or if even to approach it at all. Then finally you reach the acceptance stage, which often is tinged with a bit of Frank Sinatra for me: "I'll do it my way." Yes, I think in song lyrics. I'd live in a song if I could!

I've never been a writer who can stay near the median. Some authors are content to write beautiful stories that while they are emotional and lovely, don't take chances. I know of writers who do that, and the fact that they don't go beyond certain parameters is part of why I always feel comfortable picking up their books. Like my favorite peanut butter cups, the batch may change a little but the taste essentially remains the same. That's why I like them and seek them out! As writers, we're advised to build our brand. That gets harder to do when you follow your muse where she takes you…regardless of knowing who'll be behind you when you take the trip. That's me. I can't just stay safe and tinker with the universally acceptable mix of romance to sex to plot, if there is such a thing anyway. What's universally accepted? Nothing. And a book some adore will be the same one people hate.

What's the point of this post? Mainly to reaffirm for me and all of you that it's okay to be just who you are. Maybe you're a writer or a reader or a crafter or a welder or a mom. Whoever you are, you're good. You're different and some may not get you or what you do. They may make you think you screwed up or could have done something better. That doesn't mean you don't have merit. That doesn't mean what you've done is a mistake. You might've overlooked something vital or not trusted your gut. It's all trial and error. You listen and you move to the next thing and you grow. You try harder and you improve. But most importantly, you keep being you, just as you are. And you look in the mirror and know that there's one thing you've done perfectly, something else no one else on this planet can - you're you, exactly the way you are. It doesn't mean you don't strive to get to the next level, but it also doesn't mean you need to feel shame for following your path, whatever that may be.

Has there been a time recently where you questioned yourself or a choice you made? How did you handle it?

And if that doesn't apply to you, tell me something fun you're doing this weekend! It's the time of year for fun, right? Hope you're all having a great holiday season!

It's in the cards

I'm a dabbler. I like to dabble in things and see where they lead. I'm told that kind of free-for-all can be dangerous, but there's something about trying new things that keeps me curious and interested in learning. Lately, I've been dabbling in Tarot. Except it's not a traditional deck of Tarot, but a Fairy deck by Brian Froud. You know, the guy who did the puppets for the movie Labyrinth with David Bowie? Yeah, him.

I've seen a few blogs that throw readings out there for each star sign, telling you what to expect and where your path is leading you. I have never attempted that. I do small readings and quick looks at stuff, but I don't believe that cards can tell you things that common sense is for. However, it's fun, so I play.

Card 1: The Fixer

Last night I decided to check up on a reading I had done earlier in the year. The reading I'd pulled suggested that I would see slow progress by the end of this year, but that it would be another full year before I could feel the difference. I won't go into the details of "what" I'm progressing, but I can share the stuff I pulled out of my deck last night.

So here goes:

1. This card is where I am now. I pulled "The Fixer". According to the book, this card represents the following. "He just wants to make everything right again." It's about keeping up with the things that are falling apart, whitewashing them, doing temporary fixes until you can address the problem. Among other things.

Card 2: The Faerie of Growth

2. This card addresses my immediate concern. A specific issue in regard to that older reading where I wondered if things would improve. I wanted to know if I was still on track. I pulled "The Faerie of Growth". It's about Movement and Re-visioning. This has two parts to it. a) Think about where your life is headed and "how you can direct that change for good." b) Getting ready to "take flight" by taking the risk because this is a great time to do it.

Card 3: The Shadow of the Past

3. This one created problems for me. I could NOT visualize the card I needed to pull. That's how I do this. Upside down deck and then with my eyes closed, one card attracts me and I pull it. This one didn't. Now granted, at the time I was doing this one, my daughters were talking about their father and his asshattery (which if you look at that word, is so appropriate! Read either as Ass-hat-ery or as Ass Shat ery.) Anyway, I kept seeing the top sweep of a pergola in black with smoke coming out the top point. Hard to describe, but there it is. I have no idea what that means.

I forced the process and I pulled the next card, but it didn't feel quite right and I realized why after I flipped it over. The card I pulled was "The Shadow of the Past". It has nothing to do with my career, everything to do with relationships. "Past Love, Letting Go, Resolution". Basically, things that you didn't say as a relationship was ending, can now be said. It's time to let go and move on.

I still don't have the answer to my next year progress, buy hey, I'll take it. I'm all about moving on and proceeding with success, wherever it comes in life.

If you like this kind of blog, please let me know. If you don't, that would be nifty to hear too. I'll do more of them you they are enjoyed. Otherwise, this is tough sometimes and I won't post Tarot type things if they aren't. :)

Maybe I should learn to pull for the star signs. Like once a month... hmmm. Thoughts?

*The Heart of Faerie Oracle, by Brian and Wendy Froud; Abrams, New York (no copyright date inside cover) Buy HERE at Amazon.

That awkward moment when you realize it's Wednesday and you don't have a blog post planned...

At least it was only ten o'clock when I remembered what day it was. Otherwise, I would have been really embarrassed.

I have had a busy week, friends. Saturday I was offered a contract on a proposal I subbed on Friday. Really. That fast (more details to follow when the ink is dry, friends). I got the chance to sub a Jennifer Armintrout book at a new house. I have edits on my next Naughtily Ever After book. And oh, the Christmas presents I have to make...

Why is it that the holidays are the busiest time of the year? I'm not complaining about how busy I am, in general. Busy with work means things are looking up. But why December? Is this the spirit of giving, giving me more work?

Oddly, for me, I consider this busy time a vacation. Seriously. Okay, so I have to do my edits, and work on my next scheduled release. But it's very rare that I get to spend a whole night sewing. Now that I have a good excuse to do so, I embrace it. Oh, what was that, kids? You want to watch The Grinch? Well, I'd be a terrible mom if I didn't watch it with you. Rather than turn these edits around in a day and half, Whoville here I come. That proposal? I can work on it a little. But no one in New York publishing reads subs from Thanksgiving to January 2nd, and we all know it. At least, we knew it ten years ago, and I'm clinging to it, not out of procrastination, but to give myself permission to enjoy the holidays.

I think we get so caught up in the business of the busyness of the holidays, we don't stop to actually enjoy all the hard work we're doing to spend time with our families. I realize I'm coming at this from a purely Christian perspective, I know not everyone reading this blog will sympathize with my Christmas focused post here. But even if you don't celebrate any holiday at all, you can't deny that December is always uncommonly busy.

So, if you do nothing else this season, give yourself permission to relax. This year is almost over. If you screwed it up, well, good news, it's almost time for a fresh start. And if your year was awesome, way to go, champ, put it on the shelf and take a siesta so you're all rested up to make next year better.

Christmas Sleepface

NOTE: This post will also appear at Romfan Reviews today as part of their Christmas Blog Hop. Please follow this link and leave a comment (do it here too) to win something from my backlist.

http://www.romfanreviews.com/


Aw, so you’re wondering where the word ‘sleepyface’ comes from. HA. Well, that was my husband and I during the early years of our marriage and our first attempts at playing “SANTA” for our two little ones. Naturally, I have tons of Christmas memories but the one that stands out in my mind and gives me plenty of eyerolling moments is the year my son wanted lots of Ghostbusters stuff from the Big Guy. Yes, I realize I’m seriously dating myself. As an empty-nester, I soooo miss those early years of setting out cookies and hot chocolate for Santa, sneaking around hiding presents, and the eventual assembly thing.
Well, maybe I’m not missing the ‘assembly thing’ so much.
That particular Christmas Eve, after family had left and our kiddos were in bed we mentally rub our hands together and get down to the business of playing Santa. Our little girl was easy that year. No assembly required. Then we get to our son. Whew boy! The Ghostbusters ‘hearse’, action figures, etc. were a snap. Everything was rockin’ and rollin’ until we got to the damn Ghostbusters firehouse. Don’t know if you remember it from the movie but it was a renovated firehouse (two stories) complete with a pole so the Ghostbusters guys could rush out to nab the paranormal critters. We knew we were in big, big trouble when we open the box and find not only a gazillion plastic pieces but a roll of stickers that could lead all the way to China AND BACK. Lordy! I think there were probably 500 stickers that had co-ordinating numbers to show you where to apply them on the house. Our eyes got HUGE. We were already exhausted of course because like a couple of dumbasses, we’d saved this for last. As I recall, sticker number 289 was an itsy bitsy doorknob that wouldn’t fit on the paw of a mouse. Before all was said and done, we were snapping at each other, positively freaked at the sheer time-consuming nature of this project.

So finally we get the damn thing done. It looked cute. The stickers were all in place and it was just a bit after 2:30 am. I apologized for being bitchy. He apologizes for being an irrational grumpy-head and we stumble off to bed only to be awakened at four am by our wide-eyed sprites. Four AM???? Seriously??? What could we do in the face of all this excitement? I stumbled out of bed and put on a pot of very strong coffee while our urchins played with the stuff. My husband and I were troopers and not about to spoil Christmas morning by sending them back to bed where they belonged. Nope. We stumbled through the rest of that day and I recall now that we took long naps the second our company headed out the door after Christmas dinner. Kind of reminded me of finals week in college. Yeah, that bad!

The moral of this little Christmas tale? When ToysRUs offers a $25 assembly fee, don’t be proud. Don’t say…aww, I can do THIS. Believe me. You are only fooling yourself. Pay the bucks. Save yourself some grief. Get a good nights’ sleep knowing that the price of a pleasant Christmas is a mere pittance in comparison to an all-night assembly fest.
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Facebook and Twitter as Regina Carlysle
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Welcome Guest Blogger Casey Crow

Thank you so much, Regina, for having me today and featuring CAN’T FAKE THIS. I'm so excited to announce my debut has been out since Dec. 6 with Loose, Id. It's funny how things work out. CAN'T FAKE THIS started out on a whim. At the last minute, I decided to enter this 10,000 word contest. I’d written spicy mainstream, but this was my first dive into erotic waters. I didn’t win the contest, but after having what I thought was a good start, I added some more words and low and behold, this erotic became the first manuscript I sold.
CAN’T FAKE THIS is about a divorcee ready to reenter the dating world. Anna Ryan is determined to be the best “product on the market,” which requires a lot more experience so she propositions sexy police officer Chase Harris to teach her how to make hot, passionate love as opposed to just having sex. He takes it a step further, instructing each lesson based on The Twelve Days of Christmas.
On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me…temptation in a hot package. For more, check out the book trailer! The story definitely has my “Sexy, Sassy & Southern” trademark. Here’s a sneak peek.

My zipper slid down with a hiss, exposing my bare flesh to the cool air of the room. “Do you know what today is?” I was breathless as the material spilled below my hips.
Chase pushed my hair aside, his tongue sweeping every vertebra until he knelt on his knees kissing the small indention of my lower back. “Sunday.”
“December fourteenth.” I needed to be the one on my knees. My legs had turned all Jell-Oy. Yeah, I wasn’t an expert in the chemistry department, but even I could sense the spark between us, the hot, electric pull. As his teeth pulled at the peach bow of my G-string, I could already imagine his cock sliding into me. He yanked the dress down and turned me around. My crotch was now at his eye level. I rubbed his shaved head, debating whether I should pull his face to my panties or hike a leg over his shoulder. Or both. I settled for the latter before my weak knees collapsed.
“It’s twelve days till Christmas,” I said. The figure eights he licked along my inner thigh made it rather difficult to carry on a coherent conversation.
“Consider tonight an early present.” He swooped in for a taste, or so I thought, as hot air breezed my pussy. Before I knew it, Chase slipped my leg off his shoulder and stood to scoop me into his arms. He lowered me onto the cold leather of the sofa, but the chill disintegrated the moment his warm body stretched over me. His large, dark pupils filled with lust — and dare I say, need? — as his dick throbbed between my legs. I squeezed my thighs, putting pressure on his cock. He let out a low groan while my body strained for more than a tease. I lifted my hips to rub up and down on his shaft.
We ground our bodies together, my gaze trapped by his own for a deliciously suspended moment. It never occurred to me this kind of intimacy was odd. I mean, most folks would be kissing and getting it on by now, but after all the exciting tension that had built all night, we suddenly slowed down…to savor. Damn, it was sexy.
Zero doubt played in my mind. I wanted this guy to help execute my plan. “I’m thinking I deserve one every day for the next twelve days,” I said as he moved in for a kiss.
The grinding of his hips against mine stopped. Chase pushed up on his elbows and stared at me, lifting a curious brow.
“Hear me out.” My fingers examined his rib cage, stopping to pay homage to his thick, oblique muscles. “I need someone like you to…” My throat closed. When had my palms become this sweaty? I took my hands off his body so he wouldn’t notice, and prayed the cool air would dry them.
“Like me?”
“Experienced…not looking for attachments.” I threw in the last bit to remind us both Chase fulfilled the role of Frog number one.
He grinned. “What do you need?”
“I want you to spend the next twelve days teaching…showing me how to make love.”
He winced, and sucked a hiss through his teeth. “You write sex for a living.”
“Writing about it and really living it are two different things.” I squirmed out of his hold. He pulled away as I sat Indian style across from him. “Look, here’s the deal. It’s been eight long years since I’ve been single, and now that I’m back on the market, I intend to be the best product out there.”
His lips twitched as his gaze roamed my body. “You’re pretty damn good as you are.”
I blushed and grabbed a red throw pillow to cover my nakedness. “Thanks, but I need, shall we say, tutoring in the fine art of love making.”
“Let me get this straight.” He barely contained the laughter in his voice. “You’re asking me to instruct you on how to have sex?”
“No dummy. I know how to have sex. Anybody can pump and hump.” The image of my ex flashed in my mind. “I want passion, chemistry and hot, sweaty multiple orgasms.” I tossed the pillow on the floor and rose, knee walking across the sofa toward him. My fingers teased the hem of his T-shirt. They finagled their way underneath the soft material and behind the waistband of his jeans. I pulled him close. “I want to make love.”
“For twelve days? Then I’m off the hook?” He looked so relieved I almost giggled.
I pushed my pelvis against his cock and smiled when it twitched back to life. “Yes.” I grabbed his ass and gave it a tight squeeze. Then, I ran my mouth up the side of his neck to his ear, nibbling the lobe. “You interested?”

Visit Casey at http://www.caseycrow.com/. On Facebook at Casey Crow and Twitter at caseyecrow.
CAN’T FAKE THIS book trailer.
Buy now from Loose, Id., or Amazon.


Casey Crow is a Summa Cum Laude graduate from the University of Alabama with degrees in Business Management and Dance. She received her Master of Business Administration from the University of Mobile. Casey resides in Mobile where she stays busy with her two young children. She also works as a dance choreographer, pageant coach, professional emcee and model, and certified Miss America preliminary judge. In fact, she is a former Miss University of Alabama. Casey writes erotic and spicy contemporary romances with the tagline “Sexy, Southern & Sassy.” Visit her at http://www.caseycrow.com/. Follow her on Twitter – caseyecrow and Facebook – Casey Crow.

Welcome our Guest, Elizabeth Black

It's that time of year! The tree is up. The hot buttered rum is made. I'm even going to make wassail. As soon as I finish this article I'm baking gingerbread men. The Christmas music is on, and I'm listening to that perennial favorite, A Charlie Brown Christmas. I'm a firm believer in being naughty for Christmas. And forget Santa. He's a wuss.



I prefer Krampus.



You've never heard of Krampus? You have been denied a wonderful holiday tradition! Krampus is the dark counterpart to Saint Nicholas. Whilst Saint Nick gives presents to the good children, he sics Krampus on the naughty ones. Krampus goes by many names around the world including Knecht Ruprecht, Certa, Perchten, Black Peter, Schmutzli, Pelznickel, Klaubauf, and (of course) Krampus. He's most often portrayed as a devil-like creature with reddish skin, cloven hooves, and a very long tongue hanging out of his mouth. Quite fearsome! Krampus swats naughty children with switches and chains before dragging them to the depths of Hell.



The night of celebration of Krampus' existence is reminiscent of Mardi Gras – lots of dressing up in costumes, carrying torches, and drunken revelry. Sure beats leaving cookies and milk for Santa on Christmas Eve!



I'm sure since we're very naughty erotic readers and writers that Krampus would like to have a long talk with us. I'm game! Hey, Krampus likes switches! Brings out the bondage enthusiast in all of us. LOL!



So you want to treat yourself and your loved ones to some naughty gifts for Christmas (or Krampusnacht, the day before Saint Nick's Day)? Buy some sex toys, head for the nearest hot tub, and bring along some smutty literature.



I have just the smut for you to celebrate this holiday season. Do you like werewolves? Then you'll love my new m/m/bisexual werewolf erotic romance series!

Have you read my novella Feral Heat, which is about the lives and antics of Sam Hightower and Grant Newsome, two bisexual werewolves? Those two work as lighting technicians for stage plays. That book has always been my best seller. Since many people have written to me telling me how much they like Sam and Grant I've decided to write more stories that include those two characters. The first story appears in the book Explicit Encounters published by Romance Divine. It's called Fluff The Master, and it's a FREE READ! Yes, you read that right. FREE! So pick up your copy today. You may find it at AllRomanceeBooks. You may also e-mail me at trishcwilson AT comcast DOT net and I will give you a PDF copy of the book.



AllRomanceeBooks – Explicit Encounters – Contains Fluff The Master.



Here's my Feral Heat page on my web site. It has everything you need: buy links, excerpt, blurb, reviews, and cover.



The second story is called Filthy Leuker, and it released yesterday. Look for it at AllRomanceEbooks, Barnes and Noble Nook, Amazon Kindle, Kobo, and other locations. Filthy Leuker continues the story of Sam Hightower and Grant Newsome, my bisexual werewolves from my novella Feral Heat. You may also find Sam and Grant in the free read Fluff The Master, published by Romance Divine in its Explicit Encounters anthology.



Here are a blurb and an excerpt from Filthy Leuker to whet your appetite. Treat yourself to some fantastic Christmas gifts by getting Feral Heat, Fluff The Master, and Filthy Leuker at the same time! And may Krampus look down with favor upon you.



BLURB



Erotic author Elizabeth Black is back. And she brings with her those lusty, bisexual werewolves/stagehands from her hot and sexy Feral Heat. This time Grant and Sam have their eyes on the show’s luscious male dancer: Leuker. To keep it all interesting, the lithesome ladies, Lina and Charlotte, are also along. It’s a paranormal, erotic, anything goes FIVE-some. Blame it all on…Filthy Leuker.



EXCERPT



"I don't think we'll be getting much rest tonight. I'm feeling adventurous!" Charlotte dipped her finger in her Tuaca and rubbed it around her mouth, pursing her lips with the promise of much more. She pulled a pair of dice out of her back pocket of her jeans and rolled them in her palm. "What do you say we play with my Sex Dice?"

"What are Sex Dice?" Luke looked so open and naïve Sam wanted to hug him.

"He's adorable," Charlotte brushed her fingers against Luke's arm, making Luke double-take at her bold gesture. A pang of jealousy washed over Sam, but he immediately shoved the feeling away. They'd share each other's bodies soon enough. Charlotte continued: "Sex Dice are a game. We shake the dice and do whatever they tell us to do. One die says what to do and the other die says to whom to do it."

Luke reached for the dice in Charlotte's hand but Lina slapped him away. She likes slapping. I could get into a little swat. The pain would do me good.

"No!” Lina commanded. “I'd rather see your reaction the moment you have to remove your shirt or French kiss the person to your right."

"Good thing we're bi or that could be awkward." Mirth filled Grant's voice.

"Or enticing," Charlotte nibbled brie from an apple slice. Melting cheese dripped from the corner of her mouth, and the tip of her tongue snatched it up before it could get away, making Sam's cock twitched with delight. "Have you ever seen two straight women kiss? It's very exciting. All the giggling and petting. They love it. They just don't admit it."

"Enough talk! Let's play. Everyone on the floor in a circle." Sam took the dice from Charlotte as the five of them sat on the floor with Sam against the couch and to his right Grant, then Lina, Luke, and Charlotte.

"I'll go first," He took a long swallow of his Tuaca and tossed the dice on the rug.

Double Release Week... and stuff

Ever stare off into space, consumed with a thought you just have to pursue? What is it? What gets you to tune out the world most? For me it's description creation. I know, boring right? I have this weird genetic filter fail. I say things that are on my mind without thinking through them completely. It can be harrowing because I'm actually a very nice person who feels like shit if she says something unintentionally hurtful. I try so hard to be careful, to find the right words, the right delivery, the right moment, but I tend to fail just when I let down my guard. What compounds this is when I fail and don't realize it.

Like OMG *hand clap over the mouth*. I can't believe I just said blue isn't her color! She's WEARING BLUE! That kind of thing. Yeah, it can be funny... like the moments at conference I've shared with you. *At the elevator bay* "Anyone wanna go down?" or at panel of erotic writers. "Hey, I really do know dick!" It can be special special and it by super sucktastic.

Likewise, my sense of humor tends to tiptoe the line of over-share and comedy. It can make people uncomfortable, especially when I'm working on a particularly juice visual image. I love giving visuals. However, if the image is gross and I've been imagining the precision of grossness in my mind and finally hit upon the perfect description, it's a eureka moment I want to share so badly, that I don't always mind my audience. *sigh* That's where some of you might see the twitter feeds fly by about "Mia!!! THE LINE!" from a few of my friends. They have invented an imaginary line that I frequently cross. But really, what's humor without a little bit of line crossing?

And because it amuses me so much, I'm going to share the purple prose that has been in my head for the last three days. I haven't shared it with anyone, lucky you! LOL.

His cock rose like a nervous meerkat.

You're welcome. I'd go into the description about "the desert of her untouched body", but the visual of that meerkat darting into her "den" while "the eagle cries of pleasure soared above," well, it just gets uncomfortable, doesn't it?


In other news, I have two books out this week. Both are by my alter ego, Katie Blu (weblink on the right margin).

On Wednesday, the 7th, my historical m/f shapeshifter book released at Resplendence. Prey Tell is set at the end of the Regency period and the heroine is a cat shapeshifter. As in, house cat. The hero doesn't know. He just wants to marry the beautiful, wealthy Miss Preston. However, he becomes the real prey. Here's the nifty cover. Isn't he pretty?

On Thursday, the 8th (that's today in case anyone missed it), my m/f/m menage comes out at Siren. Staking Their Claim is the erotic journey of a woman post-divorce who comes to realize that she's not only desirable, but is able to shed all her insecurities. It's a love story of renewal, a second coming-of-age, if you will. Here's that cover. Oh and there's a 15% discount on this one through December 15th, at the Siren site.

If you are interested in finding out more, the links to both publishers are on the right margin down a bit. Until then enjoy. And... go research meerkats.

Hey baby, come here often?

I've been just dying for today to come around, because I want to talk at you!

My name is Abigail Barnette. No, I'm a liar. My name is Jennifer Armintrout. Under my real name, I've written a bunch of books. The Blood Ties series, the Lightworld/Darkworld novels, and American Vampire, which was recently named one of the top 10 horror novels of 2011 by Booklist magazine online. But my passion lately has been romance, so I began writing erotic romance as Abigail Barnette. Some of Abigail's books are traditional, with a twist– Bride of The Wolf is a historical romance with werewolves; the Naughtily Ever After series are retellings of classic fairytales. Others, are just twisted– if the idea of a Victorian-era BDSM club with steam powered sex machines intrigues you, All Steamed Up is definitely the series for you.

I'm so pleased to have been asked to contribute to this awesome blog. I think it's super fitting that I'm supposed to blog on Wednesdays. Wednesday is my daughter's name (no matter how often embarrassed relatives introduce her as Wendy). Also, it's hump day. And that makes me laugh. Ha. Hump.

And in the interest of transparency in this introduction, I must tell you all, I look nothing like my avatar. I look more like... well...

You know what, just keep imagining me as that slender redhead in the banner.

YAY I'M OFFICIAL!

Loving those Holiday Movies

Admittedly, I've had a tough time getting into the Christmas spirit this year but, hey, the month is young. Today I'll haul my tree out of it's battered up box, wrestle it into place in my living room and by the time I throw all the ornaments up (and of course sigh a little) I'll be moving toward full-blown holiday mode. Over the years, we've had a number of traditions in my family. Some have gone by the wayside as the kids became adults and others? Well, they stick around. One of them that has never died (and probably never will) is sitting around with mugs of hot chocolate to watch the assorted holiday movies. Like you guys, I have some all-time favorites that I insist on seeing every year. They vary from zany...National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation and A Christmas Story to emotional and moving...A Christmas Carol. Animated stuff is fun too and brings back lots of fun moments of having little ones at home during the season. You're a Mean One, Misssster Grinch!  And let's not forget downright SAPPY.

White Christmas (starring Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye and Rosemary Clooney) is one of the sappier and also one of my favorites. I have a younger sister and when we were teens we happened to be up late one night and took in this particular sugar-coated Christmas musical that featured singing, dancing, sisters (of course) and a Vermont Inn that desperately needed a little (okay...a LOT) of snow. We loved it and a new tradition was born. Every holiday season, my sister and I sat bundled in bathrobes (on the floor) with hot chocolate, cookies and/or popcorn and watched this one. Don't remember how many years in a row we did this but, as the world continued to turn and we were grown women with kids of our own we still managed to say, even long distance..Hey, guess what's on tonight? Are you watching it? I have the dvd version now purchased for the low, low price of five bucks. Think I'll pull it out in a week or so, put it on and remember.

What are some of YOUR favorite holiday movies?

Thanksgiving Let Down

So I've been in the cave. All sorts of caves. The writing cave, the submitting cave, the edits cave. NaNo has come and gone and I hit 38K, which wasn't bad considering I had a new release, did edits on two books, promo for another new release next week and subbed two novellas and a proposal...yep, no grass growing under these furry flip-flops (my slippers, if you're wondering.)

But one thing all that stuff hasn't left much time for? Coming up with fun blogs. So that's where my good friend Marika comes in. She wrote up an awesome blog on short notice and believe me, she's a true friend because she's one busy lady! She's a wife and mother, writer, reviewer and reader...plus she has a full-time job! So please show her some love and tell us how your letdown week went! (And yep, she's right - I have been watching my basketball!)

Take it away, Marika!

Thanksgiving Let Down

Hello, its Fan girl again.  Cari has asked me to blog for her today.  She mentioned something about being in a cave and being behind.  Honestly, I think she’s watching her Orangemen play basketball.  Anywhoos, you get me again.

Have you ever thought about the Thanksgiving Let Down?  Yes, Let Down.  I call the week after Thanksgiving, the Let Down.  This year we had 24 days to prepare for Thanksgiving.  Yes only 24 days before we had the horde of relatives came to your house or you went to theirs.  On 24 days to shop, cook, clean and get ready for that one day that we are truly thankful and overeat.  The day after Thanksgiving is Black Friday or for most retailers it actually starts Thursday night.  Grrrr!  Don’t get me started on Black Friday starting early.  That’s a whole another post.  So after fighting the insane masses to get that deal that you just had to have right now, you go home and hopefully take a nap.  Saturday, you’re looking at the relatives and thinking…when are you going home?  I want my home back.  On Saturday, you are also to that point that if you ate another bite of turkey, you might gag!  ***hint***  Pizza is good either Friday or Saturday.  Just saying…and yes, that’s what we had.

Sunday is the day that everyone leaves, you get your house back and you start cleaning.  Whew…house is clean, football is on or maybe you are reading, right?  Here’s the Let Down part…Monday, you go back to work and you’re thinking to yourself or maybe talking to co-workers about decorating the house.  What???  This year we have a full month between Thanksgiving and Christmas, people.  Think about it?  That’s about 30 days before the most chaotically beautiful day of the year.  So why do people feel like that they have to start with the shopping, cooking, baking, decorating, party throwing, oh shit I have Christmas Cards to get out, panic mode?  For me, the Thanksgiving Let Down is a week to rethink about when we are going to decorate, realize that I’m NOT going to bake anything again, be truly thankful that I have a job even if I complain about it, watch my 6 year old son already whip himself up in a frenzy because Christmas is coming and look at my husband and thank I’m the luckiest woman alive right now.

Of course, the Let Down is a time to think what in the hell am I going to get everyone for Christmas this year, what do I want for Christmas and pray to the gods that no one gets sick during the season.  Think about it…what have you done this Let Down Week?  For me, we went to work and nothing else.  Yep, nothing to even resemble getting into Christmas.  For some, that might sound Scrooge-like but for me…just trying to save up for the insanity that will sure sneak up on me when I don’t expect it.

Oh and Cari…how are the Orangemen doing this year?  My Sooners and Aggies…too early to tell.

Cari here: LOL, Marika, they're ranked #4 in the nation but they haven't been tested yet. We'll see. Hope the Sooners and Aggies do well, long as they aren't playing my Orange. ;)

1984

Thank you, George Orwell, for the reference that never fails to apply. I wonder if you knew how right you'd be--even if the year wasn't quite on target?

I don't know if you've seen, but several smart phones have running background software that tracks everything you do on your phone. Every Google search, every text, logged and sent to your carrier. What they do with it is anyone's guess. Perhaps they're simply chuckling and loading them to DamnYouAutocorrect. One never knows.

If that's the case, enjoy background peepers. You'll have texts from me to another friend discussing baby Jesus night vision and another with my daughter about stabbing people in the head with bullets. It's an exciting life I lead.

That our phones are following and logging our every move is a bit disturbing, isn't it? And yet we've all adjusted to video cams on our stop lights and in stores. While we were angered to learn that some dressing rooms have cameras trained on our bodies, we understood the necessity. Heck, I once made a point of glaring at every broken ceiling tile in the Target store, when I was trying on pregnancy clothes some eleven years ago. Much to my annoyance, I was followed around the store by security for the rest of my trip. Sigh. Hope you had a good look at my naked nine month belly.

But what we don't expect? What really unnerves me is the badgering. I can almost forget that I'm being watched... until, like an electric prod to cattle, the bastards throw me a reminder. It sneaks up on you. It attacks in the unlikeliest of locations. Dundundun-duuuuhhhhhhh!

I'm not sure if I should thank Jin Yuan's Chinese take-out are start looking over my shoulder. Who the f*ck puts this in a fortune cookie?! And of the three cookies we got, TWO OF THEM were this message. Now, I realize that paranoia is unflattering, but I'm pretty sure someone is trying to warn me.

I know what it is! The government has been monitoring my texts and phone tweets to know that I'm researching and writing a book on Navy SEALs! Big Brother is not only watching, but the secret organization of taunters are letting me know that 1984 has become a reality!

I smell a conspiracy. I'll not be hushed! Next time, fortune cookie makers, the camera will be turned on you. Thank you, ever so, for the giant freak out. Pardon me, while I go draw my blinds.

~Mia