Doing it in a Group!

Note: Sorry for missing out on a bunch of fun last week. I was off on a mini vacay and ended up with no internet. What a bummer! It was fixed just as my time away ended. Figures, doesn't it?

First let me clarify (for those of you with minds in the gutter...lol) I don't mean actually 'doing it' in a group. I'm actually talking today about how incredible it is to tackle fun projects with a bunch of fun friends. We all know nothing is better than lunching with the girls or meeting up for happy hour. LIKE minds can come up with some great ideas and buckets of inspiration. Lately, I've been on a journey like this with some of my best buds (including Desiree Holt, Brenna Zinn, Cerise Deland, Samantha Cayto, Nicole Austin and Allie Standifer). If you aren't familiar with their works, you must Google these crazy, talented ladies.

Many of you know how we came together, developed a bangin' friendship and went on to write the Toys4Us series. Now we have teamed up again to write a collection of short stories for Decadent Publishing for their The Edge series. With February coming, our thoughts turn to Valentine's Day where Valentino's Gourmet Food and Wine Shoppe supplies those lookin' for love with all kinds of naughty, sexy indulgences to tempt even the most recalcitrant lover or soon-to-be lover. The first of these super hot stories debut on Friday. It's time to get your 'cupid on' with uber hot reads by Nicole Austin and Cerise Deland. Nobody does it better than these two spectacular writers. Head over to Decadent Publishing and pick them up.

Buy here!

Be Mine
by Cerise Deland

Why shouldn’t an eligible man like Jason Sherwood plan a Valentine’s Day merger with a woman whose elegant body melted at his touch last year on February fourteenth? A mysterious woman who disappeared like a wraith. A vibrant creature who came apart in his arms like only the right woman does for the right man.
But Mara Richardson left Jason for a good reason…and after a year of looking for her, he still doesn’t know why. But he has to learn. Has to get her naked, wild for him again. Give her those little sugary candies that say, Be Mine, and show her that, despite only hours with her last year, he needs her to be his. Forever.

Hard Lovin'
By Nicole Austin

After a grueling graveyard shift in the E.R. and tromping through snow, the only things on Olivia Daughtry’s mind are a nice warm fire, a glass of chocolate wine and some quality time with her vibrator. Being interrogated by a tenacious cop wasn’t anywhere on her list of things to do.
There is too much at stake for Officer Hall to follow department policies or go easy on the sexy suspect. But nurse Daughtry is one tough cookie and the harder he pushes the hotter she gets. From handcuffs and an improvised gag to little blue candies, Hall will do whatever it takes to get the correct answer to his very important question.

Are My Eyes Playing Tricks On Me?

Fetish anyone? I don’t have one. At least I don’t think so. There is nothing that I like doing so much that I could say it’s a fetish. Well…maybe eating peanut butter. But that’s not a fetish—unless you were to smear it on someone’s toes and lick it off and do that a lot. AND!!! It would have to be for the purpose of sexual arousal. I guess. Lol

And no, I don’t plan on licking peanut butter off of anyone’s toes. Or anything else off of anyone’s toes for that matter. YUCK!

So how did I arrive at this particular subject? Hmmm…long story.

I was driving down the road and glanced to my left and saw a billboard. Now I’m traveling 50 mph and, of course, read the sign rather quickly. Here’s what I saw: OVER 60? SINGLES VACATION ….

Then it had an 800 number and a website address. Not that I needed that info. It was the OVER 60 part of it that snagged my attention in the first place. No, I’m not OVER 60---yet. But someday I will be and the sign started me thinking. What will I be doing when I am OVER 60? What is an OVER 60 vacation like? Is there something special that must be done for that age group? There was a part of me that was insulted for the OVER 60 group. Shuffleboard only? Soft foods only?

Then I narrowed my focus and thought about SINGLES. Okay. Makes sense. Similar age group vacations. Usually I’m not so dense, but trust me—my degree of denseness worsens.  First…the rest of my wandering thoughts.

For the next few days my mind kept going back to that whole singles vacation idea and, of course, I had to think about men and sex and all that stuff. LOL I pictured myself on a singles cruise—all vacationers within my age group. LOL  Now my imagination is pretty vivid, so I had a huge pool and waiters dressed in next to nothing serving up drinks. Towel boys, etc. You get the picture. Everyone was having a great time. Then it hit me.

I was in a swimsuit.

SHIT!!! OH HELL NO!!! GET ME OUTTA HERE!!!!

But no matter how hard I tried to leave that freaking day dream, it just wouldn’t let go. My only recourse was to wrestle down a towel boy and steal his stash! Now appropriately draped in white terrycloth, I allowed my gaze to wander and check out everyone’s body.

There were people of all sizes and shapes. Mostly people in pretty decent shape, though. I imagine anyone going on a singles cruise and dressed in a swimsuit would not be worrying about covering themselves with towels. Not perfect bodies but there were SOME. Mostly, I was checking out the women--doing a comparison. You know what I mean. And there were some women who just pissed me off! Why were their boobs so damn perky? Why didn’t their thighs jiggle just a little?

I lifted the towel and stole a look at my southwardly sloping breasts. YEAH!!! SAGGING DAMN BOOBS!!! And I’m not even going to talk about my thighs. And thank GOD I had the presence of mind to daydream my way into a one-piece rather than a freaking two-piece. Sighhhhhhhhh

ALL STOP!!!!

I shifted my focus. Okay…this is what you’ve got to work with ol’ gal. WORK IT!!!  WTF? How do I do that? Well, by now you’ve figured out I’m not normal. So working with what I’ve got meant getting on the computer and logging on to Google to search for—you got it—men who like sagging breasts!

I was surprised in two ways. One: There wasn’t a fetish site for men who like sagging breasts. Plenty of porn sites with videos of women with sagging breasts, though. sighhh Two: Most men who commented to women asking if men liked sagging breasts (yeah, I’m not the only one asking it seems), didn’t really seem to care. A few did, but overwhelmingly? Most men were fine with sagging boobs. They mentioned things like self-worth and body image and love. Hmmm…good job guys.

Regardless, I seriously doubt I’m going to run out and flash anyone, though. LOL

Now all of this “singles vacationing” thing has taken up a lot of my time. Really. I thought about it way too much. Was way too critical about myself.  And all because of that damn billboard. Yesterday I was driving down that same road and saw that same billboard. And that’s what prompted me to write this post.

Remember how I said it read: OVER 60? SINGLES VACATION…

Well…it didn’t say that. I misread it. What it said was this:

OVER 60? SHINGLES VACCINATION…

As soon as I got home I took a nap.

Which of you lucky two people won the book?

Last week, I offered my latest release, BEAST, for your contesting goodness. Thank heavens only two of you entered, because I totally forgot what website that is that pulls random numbers and I was feeling a lot of anxiety. Instead, I flipped a coin- okay, not a coin, a button, I have more crafting supplies than money- and guess what? A Ms. Harlie Reader won the toss. So, look for an email in your inbox, ma'am, you won yourself a book.

In other news, I really don't have any Wednesday awesomeness to share, so I went to youtube and found some guy putting Skittles in vodka. So, I guess what I'm saying is, enjoy your weekend, folks!

Changes and Blessings

Slowly but surely, I am trying to get back into the swing of things. Note the key word: SLOWLY.The writing is NOT going
well. I'm frozen. And it's no ordinary case of writer's block. I've tried everything and nothing works. So I decided to paint some. No. Not landscapes and still lifes. Not watercolors. lol Just paint. Like walls and such. lol And furniture. I used to love decorative painting. Faux finishing. That type of thing. And then I started writing. Hmmm...back to my roots I guess. lol

So the painting, while intense--requires a great deal of focus--is helping some. I think. Haven't written anything yet. But I am thinking about storylines. I am at least being creative. Hopefully, I will get some writing done sooner rather than later.

In the meantime, when I'm not painting I am getting used to the changes in my household. It's quiet here. Too quiet. That may be part of my problem. But the girls are no longer here. They're out on their own. Part of me rejoices. Another part of me grieves. And still another part of me just plain stagnates--like I'm waiting for something. Empty nest syndrome much?
I guess. lol

You'd think that the 15-year old boy would be enough. Well...that kid is pretty self-sufficient. No drama. That is no drama if you overlook his eye injury and such. But I have to say, he even handled that much much better than my girls would have. He's just so down-to-earth and laid back.

He always seems to be part of the solution rather than the problem and wise beyond his years. He's a blessing. Especially now when I am simply floundering. He sees that I am and thinks it's just fine. Maybe I should listen to him. lol

I do hope everyone is happily reading, writing, and editing.

Much love to all!!!!

Tess

Stubborn? Me?

Do you remember those ads on TV where Coast bar soap and Irish Springs used to compete with how their soap "went all the way through the bar"? I won't begin to touch why that was supposed to impress us. As, after all, soap should indeed be solid soap and thus "go all the way through the bar". Still, that was the thing. Irish Springs had the people dressed in green with accents whistling, "Clean as a whistle," with the uber pronounced "h" in Whhhhistle. Remember? And Coast had someone like Joe Montana effortlessly breaking a bar of soap in two, proving the "through the bar" claim. A little boy was in the locker room and couldn't break the bar, so Joe snaps it and the boy's like, "Ooooh, Joe Montana, you're so strong and my  hero for breaking soap in half!"

And again, we'll try not to notice the derogatory Irish references of red-haired dancing people in green with poorly reflected accents, or the fact that it's just weird to have a little boy in a man's football locker room after a big sweaty game. Joe Paterno, folks, Joe Paterno.

So the boy was about my age when that ad came out. I'm guessing here, because it's not like they flash the kid's age on the screen and say, "Look at this little boy who's so strong and boy-like in his rough and tumble boy way of being a boy. Which you aren't, Mia, for you are a girl and therefore not boy-strong." But alas, they might as well have done that because it became like a personal challenge to prove that I was stronger than the twerp. Maybe because it was the 80s and women were wearing bigger shoulder pads than even those football players needed. Maybe it was because the climate of the time was the unstoppable force of womanhood trying to break through the glass ceiling of business. I dunno, but I KNEW I was stronger than that boy. In a quest, rather like my own Labyrinth to self-awareness, I needed to demonstrate my girl-power.

Mom was not pleased to find broken soap in every bathroom of the house. Or otherwise unopened bars still in the cupboard.

I was sad when my challenge to prove I was stronger than boy-ness, and equal in strength to Joe Montana came to an end. But TV provided a new challenge. LAY'S POTATO CHIPS!!!! "You can't eat just one." Wanna bet? Those boys on the ad may be unable to eat just one luscious sour cream and onion chip, hear it crack between their hard teeth and dissolve like greasy sin on their tongues. THEY might not have been able to impress their fawning female girlfriends with their will-power to resist. BUT I COULD. I, in my ten or twelve year old girl-glory COULD!

I was on a mission. I opened every bag of chips in the house and in grandma's. I even opened the ones in the grocery carts before they were purchased. I didn't just stop at Lay's, but their competitor, Ruffles (they have ridges, y'all), Doritos, Frito Lay, Cheetos! Was it really my fault that they went stale so quickly after opening?

Unfortunately, I saw a dilemma. Eating just one needed parameters. Just one at a time? Just one at a sitting? Just one for one entire bag? Because now I'd opened them. When the family had burgers, I couldn't eat chips! I'd already had my one! But did I just have one? I had opened every bag. Didn't that mean I'd had more than one and in my quest to perfect the challenge, I'd crippled myself by eating several of every kind? And did eating just one mean one of each flavor. Egads! What to do?

Simple, I decided I had won the Lay's challenge and there on never ate Lay's again, preferring Ruffles who didn't make up such ridiculous rules. That stubborn streak continued until about five years ago when I wondered why I preferred Ruffles when those nasty little ridges made the roof of my mouth sore.

M&Ms had a challenge to. Do you remember? "Melts in your mouth, not in your hand." I could promise you that they absolutely melted in my mouth. Grandma used to keep a candy dish stocked with M&Ms. Once that ad hit the airwaves, I knew what I had to do. I had to hold M&Ms in my chubby little hand until they melted. I was sadly disappointed. It didn't take long at all. Not a worthy challenge for a girl bent of proving her might. SO I FROZE THEM FIRST! Aha! Brilliant plan, little Mia! They were damn cold but I suffered through. I played, my fist tightly clenched to protect them. I didn't peak for an hour even after my palm felt mushy. Why? Because I didn't just want to win, I wanted to devastate!!!!!!

Now in my adulthood, I'm looking for that fearless little girl again. I knew myself back then. I knew I was unstoppable. I was the queen of my little world and powerful. The only challenge I'd been unable to beat was ripping the phonebook in two. I did compensate by ripping every single page in half, including the cover on both the yellow, white and community books. Again, not a pleased Momma out of that, but I didn't care.

I'm searching for that strength of conviction. Where did it go in thirty years? What happened to make her retreat and by golly where's the key to the door so I can unlock her. I need some of that, "Don't tell me I can't" attitude.

~Mia

Release day!

I'm doing a bit of trickery here, as you probably are aware already that this post was not posted on the proper day. I'm going to try and trick the date/time box into helping me out, because I made a goal for the month to meet all my blogging obligations.

So, because today (not really today, Wednesday) is my release day for the third book in my Naughtily Ever After series. BEAST is a retelling of Beauty and the Beast, with a few twists to make it my own. So, here's a sneak peek at BEAST. And if you leave a comment telling me what your favorite fairytale is, and why you like it so much, you could be a lucky winner, because I'm giving away one copy of BEAST right here! I'll pick the winner via random number generator and announce who won next Wednesday!

Onto the sneaky peeky of BEAST!

Accused of treason by his own father, Prince Philipe of Chevudon finds his flight to safety cut short by an arrow to the shoulder. There is only one person to whom he can turn for help, the only woman he ever loved, the only person he ever truly betrayed…

Following the destruction of her home and family in a fire that left her horribly disfigured, Johanna has lived a life of hardship and pain. When her lost love comes to her, wounded and on the run from his father’s guard, she cannot turn him away. But she cannot forgive him either.

Can a prince who was once a beast earn back the love he cast aside?

A hot bath, a good meal, and a vigorous whore were all Philipe longed for, in that order, as his horse pounded down the frozen road. Knowing that such luxuries were unlikely didn’t stop him from wanting them. He’d been riding hard for three days, his father’s men at his heels like dogs on a fox.

“We’re but a mile from Clatterbuck,” Jessop, Philipe’s companion, once captain of his palace guard, called to him over the thunder of hooves. He was breathless from the ride, and red-faced, and Philipe knew that he might as well have been staring into a mirror. An exhausted, unshaven mirror.

“If Lord Fueil has not forsaken us, I may make it out of the kingdom alive.” He gripped the reins tighter in his swollen fingers, the cold leather of his gloves creaking.

It was a strange position he found himself in, that of the fugitive crown prince. His father, once Albart the Wise, King of Chevudon, had become Albart the suspicious, Albart the confused. Albart the paranoid and vindictive, who’d driven his own son from the palace with allegations of treason.

Philipe plotted the route in his mind. Shelter for the night behind the walls of Fueil’s fortress, then to the border and beyond, where his father’s men could not seek him. But as they rode on, his own suspicions deepened. The hovels on the outskirts of Fueil’s land showed no signs of life. Further into the village, not a chimney smoked nor a babe cried.

“It’s deserted,” Philipe said, scanning the low rooftops. His exhausted horse nickered and stepped restlessly.

“I don’t like this, Your Highness.” Jessop looked over his shoulder. “I think we may already be trapped.”

He’d barely finished his sentence before a thump widened his eyes and he fell from the saddle, an arrow protruding from his chest. Philipe ducked and tugged the reins, bringing his horse around to shield the fallen man. For but a moment, he considered trying to save Jessop. Another arrow sliced through the air, striking his horse in the neck. The animal reared back, spilling Philipe to the ground. He caught the reins of Jessop’s horse. The man lay on the ground, unmoving, as the hooves of Philipe’s wounded, maddened horse struck the mud around him. Jessop was dead, that much was clear, and Philipe did not intend to waste such a noble man’s death. He put his heels to Jessop’s horse, freeing the animal to carry him wherever it may, so long as it was out of this place.

Fueil, you bastard! When this was finished, when Philipe returned to his kingdom to inherit his throne, he would have the traitorous lord’s head on a pike.

Something struck him in the shoulder. A stone? He was nearly unhorsed, but righted himself in the saddle, arm aching. Only when he tried to lift it did he feel the sharp, shattering pain of splintered muscle and bone. The shaft of an arrow protruded from his shoulder, and hot blood wet his arm inside his sleeve. He cursed and reached for his sword, but the pain of the motion made him scream as the world blackened, only for an instant. He fought to clear his head. If he were to fall now, it would be over. He would wake in father’s dungeons, awaiting execution, or perhaps he would not wake at all.

Snow drifted through the treetops as riders pursued him, back the way he’d come, farther from the border that would be his safety. In his mind, he conjured a map of his father’s kingdom. It was thirty leagues to the border, and his horse was good for a few miles, at most. If he could have burned Fueil’s lands with the fire of his rage, he would have.

Fire. The word branded the map in his head with another, wholly unpleasant option. To the northeast lay Hazelhurn. The one place in the entire kingdom he might trade for the underworld. But it wasn’t death that frightened him so. He had to live, so that his father’s throne would be inherited by someone with reason and sanity, not some power-mad courtier who would be worse than the feeble-minded old man.

He would go to Hazelhurn, and the gods help him. But first, he had to lose the men following him. Plunging his horse headlong into the trees, he kept low and prayed that the lord of Hazelhurn would be far kinder to him than he deserved.

Are We Jaded?

Those of us of 'a certain age' who cut our romance teeth on Harlequin Romances and later started picking up the works of authors like Kathleen Woodiwiss and Jennifer Wild remember those first scandalous sex acts we read in our favorite romances. Oral sex? OMGOMGOMG!!!!!! I recall being so shocked but so thrilled by this stuff. Forced seduction? Oh yeah baby! He ripped her bodice....WOW!

These days we are much more jaded and I have to wonder what, if anything, can shock us. The other day I had a convo with friends about this topic. It wasn't all that long ago that anal sex, menage and bdsm were considered a tad over-the-top but these days, not so much. Today these themes are pretty much standard fare, aren't they? I still remember writing my first menage. Couldn't really believe I was writing such a thing but needing to push myself a bit, I dove right into it, discovered I enjoyed it and I haven't looked back. But honestly, even my menages are nothing like other stuff that is out there. It's not unusual to find our heroines getting it on with four or more guys. Now the notion of multiple partners is pretty common.

Have we become un-shockable? I wonder about that. What new thing is on the horizon and  what new 'worlds of sex' are out there for us to discover and swoon about? I wonder.

Snow! And stuff...

So I've been MIA lately but I'm back. Well, sort of. In the past few weeks I've had a new release, NO DRESS REQUIRED (my first sexy contemp romance!) and been working on edits and writing new words...AND AND AND. But that juggling act is something we all know about. There are always a million demands on our time.

One thing that always makes me slow down whether or not I want to is snow. Where I live in upstate NY we don't just get a little dusting. We measure snow in feet. Last year we got 180 inches during the course of our winter. This year so far, we've gotten, maybe 15...and that includes today's snowfall. For the first time this winter I woke up to snow covered roads, which meant creeping along in my little sedan at 20 miles per hour. No matter how much I love to drive fast - and think fast and eat fast and on and on - snow definitely makes me slow down and focus on what I'm doing. And that's not a bad thing.

What have you been slowing down to focus on lately? And...do you like snow? Ask me my true feelings on that topic in a few days as I've been spoiled so far this winter!

Back next week with a longer, possibly more coherent post!

Dumb University

Apparently, blogger chose to ignore the pre-scheduled posting of this blog and put it out last Friday. My apologies if you're seeing it twice...

I'm annoyed.

AOL posted a link to the top ten places you don't want to visit. It's lead photo was one from Rio de Janeiro (BTWs that translates to January River. Pretty right?). Being someone who grew up all over the world, I took one look at that photo and understood immediately why it wasn't a hot spot. It's a favela. Duh, AOL.

Let me explain by way of continuing. I clicked on the link. I went to view these "Do Not Visit Destinations" and I wanted to smack AOL soundly for their article. All ten of the destinations are places of incredible poverty and  military unrest.

Among these places they specifically listed a Favela in Rio. Now a Favela is a shanty town, a slum, for lack of a better word. This is where those individuals who can't afford food to eat, live. They may be fortunate to have structures and walls, they may only be lean-tos. But it's the lack of food, water, basic human needs that collects these individuals together for sharing.

Generations may all live in one room together. Fathers or mothers may travel hours on the city bus every day, one way, to work. Some leave the city for weeks at a time and send money back to their homes, just to pay for food, because taking the bus home would defeat the purpose of working.

These Favelas are where Brazilian street dancing began. It's where Carnival blossoms and communities band together to help each other any way they can. Take a valley and throw a million struggling people in there, and yes, you'll have crime, hot tempers, poor sewage, but they are doing everything they can to survive. It's where the servants and maids of the wealthy come from. Which goes to show you how little they are paid, and how much could be paid them.

Would a tourist want to visit there? No. So well done, you, AOL. You weeded out a city that was never on the tourist attraction list anyway. You pointed your snobby nose at a struggling city of workers and said, "Look at them! Look at them! We are so much better." No, you aren't. They are.

(Clearly, I'm pissed. In rereading this, I have a subject switch and am now yelling directly AT AOL instead of ABOUT AOL)

Another city that made your list, AOL? Port-Au-Prince, Haiti. HELLO! EARTHQUAKE VICTIMS, AOL! Tsunami sufferers in our own country aren't even over the devastation of Katrina and we had government funding and donations, media and world sympathy.

Showing readers a picture of a child walking over debris and garbage isn't good journalism. It's sad. "No, tourists, don't go here either! We wouldn't want your traveling wealth to impact an impoverished, destroyed nation! Walk quickly, don't make eye-contact!" To your shallow journalist Justin Delaney, I say shame on you AOL.

How about not listing slums and sites of natural disasters on your lists of possible-NOT! destinations and list them in destinations where help is needed? How about spotlighting the awesome daily struggle, the honor of these families? How about suggesting that not enough has been done to help them, with a rousing reference of gratitude that we (who are on computers), don't have to struggle the way they do? How about some compassion?

Your references of their situations and the seriousness of their lives is horrifically overshadowed by listing them as do-not-zones. It saddens me with its thin veil.

How about if I create a list of servers not to use? Hm? How about that, AOL?

Am I Rusty?





I guess so. Well…maybe. LOL

My brother wanted to take one of the dogs for a walk on the beach. I hadn’t been out in a few days and decided it would be a good idea. But the fact is, my ankle hasn’t healed enough for long walks on the beach. So I told him I’d have a cup of coffee on the patio of the restaurant where we have beach access and read while he walked the dog.

Bro frowned, thought I was being lazy—and I wasn’t being lazy, lol. Just didn’t want to walk too far then have to walk back in pain! Walking in sand is not easy on my ankle at all.

Anyway, we walked the two blocks to the beach, and he took the dog down to the shore. I headed for the patio overlooking the ocean. I ordered my coffee with cream, opened my book, and settled in for a nice relaxing hour or so.

After a while, I caught a shadow out of the corner of my eye. There were other people on the patio, of course. Conversation and laughter was all around me. I looked up, curious about the shadow, and saw a man to the right of my table leaning against the deck railing—not looking at the ocean, but at me.

I KNOW what you’re thinking. Yep, I do.

You’re thinking: OH! THIS IS GETTING GOOD! TESS IS ABOUT TO MEET A MAN!!

And to that all I can say is, “Don’t put your money on TESS!” I’m rusty. Remember?

I smiled. He smiled. I went back to reading. Yep, I did. So he says, “Nice morning, isn’t it?” I looked up at him, nodded, “Yes. Very nice. Perfect weather.” I went back to reading my book.

I KNOW!!!!! You’re shaking your head. LOL But I’m rusty, remember?

At this point, the hero in my book is meeting with the leaders of an Afghan tribe and the story is getting pretty dicey. The Taliban is everywhere, and I just know that the smart ass young kid is running to them right now to tell them my hero is there.

“We’ll have a few days of cold weather here and there, but it’s usually pretty tolerable. One of the reasons I moved here. Are you on vacation?”

The damn Taliban is about to get the jump on my man and this dude wants to talk weather. Sighhhhhhhhhh… I looked up. “I moved here in September. Guess I’m a local now.” I laughed lightly and lowered my head to find my place on the page.

“Must be a good book,” he said.

“It is.”

“Romance novel?”

I turned the book around and showed him the cover. The Apostle by Brad Thor. CIA type thriller. Not a romantic word on any page. LOL

He nodded and pushed himself off the deck railing. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Didn’t mean to bother you.”

Quickly I said, “Oh you’re not bothering me.” Well, actually he was bothering me but a Southern gal just can’t be rude and say that. Ya know?

He smiled and walked away.

I KNOW!!!! You’re banging your head against the computer screen. So I read a bit more, and then my bro gives me a shout, and he and the dog come onto the patio. He ordered a coffee and told me to put the book down. I did. By the way, the Taliban didn’t get my man. LOL

So bro says, “Did I see you talking to someone?”

“Some man was talking about the nice weather.”

“And?”

“And what? The weather is nice.”

“That’s all?”

“He wanted to know if I was reading a romance novel. Asked if it was a good book. Then he left.”

Bro says, “You’re hopeless.”

“Huh?”

“The man was trying to engage you in conversation for more.”

I said, “More what? There’s only so much you can say about the damn weather.”

“Don’t act stupid, Tess. You know what I mean.”

“You’re trying to make a short, polite conversation about the weather into something it wasn’t.”

“And you’d rather write romance than live it.”

“Oh my GOD!!! A man exchanges a few words with me and you think I should spread my legs!”

“Well…why not?”

The walk back to the house was an absolute blur. I was livid. Bro came strolling in about ten minutes behind me. And the argument continued. No. Not gonna bore you with all of bro’s thoughts on my life and all of my thoughts on his life. HE’S NOT EXACTLY A DAMN CASSANOVA these days himself!!!!

But I have to admit. It does bug me that I didn’t recognize that the man probably was trying to “meet” me for more than talk about the weather. So would I rather write romance than live it? No. I just know that writing it always turns out better than actually living it---at least where I’m concerned.

Do I intend to remain alone until the Grim Reaper takes me? Well…if I don’t learn to recognize the signs a bit better that might just happen. LOL Do ya’ll think I need to get laid? Tell the truth. LOL

Hugs and Kisses…

JUST TESS

Do you playlist?

I'm not an author who usually resorts to music to get her muse jiving. Although now that I think about it, a little foxtrot might be useful for my out of shape little muse-let. But I digress which is of course an oddity for me. I know.

Anyway, I've been in a writing mode lately where most of my books have at least one major deep issue. Something that either made me cry in writing it, or got me to think long, deep, important thoughts. We can't have this kind of chaos, people. It's not rational.

SO! By way of announcing my February release (even before I've announced my January ones, but hey, I have excitement issues), I thought I'd get myself into gear with a little moooooood musik.

To tell you about the project: You know all those books on ARe that make you squint at the incestuous relationships suggested in the titles? Daddy's Little Whore-bag of STDs, Daddy's Little Pocket Runt C*nt, etc etc?

I like to approach such things with a little humor. I pitched six books. Three Katie, three Mia for the "Mommy's Little Series series". Yup. They all release February 15th. *insert cheesy grin* Hope the Daddy people have a sense of humor because I'm making a playful poke at them without actually poking. If that makes sense.

For the February books, I created specific music, unique to each plot. First up? Mommy's Little Succubus (No Mommy's were harmed in the creation of this plot).

Here's the cover and the blurb:

Mommy, an immortal mother-thug, only wants to help when wayward paranormals wander into her diner…



Succubus Liza needs to earn her wings. But what’s a klutzy, bespectacled girl to do when she’s born without the seductress gene—and that’s the only way she can earn her demon wings?


Fortunately for Liza, Mommy has a solution and he’s chained up in her dungeon.

And the playlist:


Jar of Hearts - Christina Perri
Pumped Up Kicks-Foster the People
Rumor Has It/someone like you -Glee mash up
She Will Be Loved-Maroon 5
Fuckin Perfect-Pink
Poker Face-Lady Gaga
Please Don't Leave Me-Pink
Tik Tok-Ke$ha
Grenade-Bruno Mars
Better Than I Know Myself-Adam Lambert
Someone Like You-Adele
Yeah-Usher
I'm Yours-Jason Mraz
Teenage Dream-Katy Perry


If you pick up this book and listen to the music, say off YouTube or something, you'll see why these are all perfect fits. ;) Okay, Pumped Up Kicks was just for me. I hate the words but the music is catchy and I needed some jump in there.

Other books in the Mommy's Little Series series? Mommy's Little Shapeshifter, Mommy's Little Vampire, Mommy's Little Mummy, Mommy's Little Witch, and Mommy's Little Zombie.

Still Wednesday, Still Counts

Today has not been my favorite of days. And when I say "today", I mean in the old school, Pentecostal, Sunday-starts-at-sundown-on-Saturday-or-you-go-cut-me-a-switch-boy! kind of way. Last night, as I chatted amiably on Mr. Bell's machine to my dear friend Bronwyn Green, I, laughing, lifted a cup of water to take a drink. Forgetting that I suffer from a totally-not-made-up ailment called "Alien Hand Syndrome", I threw the contents of that cup not in my mouth, but directly onto my laptop keyboard. No amount of upside-downness or hair-dryertude could save my Macbook Pro from becoming a fourteen-hundred dollar paperweight. I briefly considered this a sign from God to end my writing career, until my husband pointed out that it was only a sign that I'm supremely clumsy.

This morning, I woke with the hopes that the keyboard would have miraculously dried, and the files I had failed to back up because I'm full-time awesome would again be accessible. Not so; I did, however, find the Alphasmart 3000 a useful tool after all, as it emulated my keyboard and allowed me to log in to retrieve my files. Glad that fire was put out! Rest of the day should be super!

Unfortunately, while I dealt with the very real possibility of writing ebooks in longhand (and laughing all the while I contemplated that, I assure you), some dickless piece of shit (I can say that on here, right?) hacked my World of Warcraft account, sold my gold and got my account banned. With no computer to rectify the situation, I was helpless to watch warning after warning flood my phone's email application- I couldn't answer them, as my outgoing mail server suddenly no longer recognized my phone's protocols. This led me to believe that there is some sort of force and order in the universe, and it hates me and wants me to die from confusion and horror. A dear, but conservative, family member of mine is fighting with some of my readers on my facebook page, and the conversation has reached over a hundred heated comments, all about abortion. Or something. I stopped reading. My husband is spending his day off sick. The house, which was clean yesterday, is in utter ruin because, as I said, my husband has the day off. Everything is perfectly, utterly horrid.

Now, I could look at all of this and say poor me. But I did not. I took the day off. I took the day off, played MarioKart, watched Malcolm in The Middle, and lived my life as though I had never heard of computers. And when I remembered that I had to do this blog, I briefly considered doing it in longhand, just for gits and shiggles. I will survive. Because tomorrow cannot possibly be as comically strange as this one has been.

My mood has been greatly helped by two fantastic reviews from the Guilty Indulgence Book Club. And the fact that I managed to somehow c/p that link without too much trouble, even though I'm using a Windows machine for the first time since 2005 and it is throwing me for a mighty loop, I can tell you that for free.

New Year Wishes

I wanted to write something profound for my first post of the new year but PROFOUND eludes me this morning. I will say that 2011 wasn't a totally sucktastic year but it wasn't the most awesome either. Still too many bumps in the road last year but I will confess that it wasn't all bad either. I began last New Years Day telling myself (and hoping mightily) that 2011 would be better for my friends, loved ones and myself and it was. A bit. So this New Year's Day, I wished for the same. Maybe it'll kick in in spades this time. Here's hoping!

One of the wonderful things about 2011 was that we bought a beautiful new lake house. It sets on a high hilltop overlooking a pristine crystal blue lake. The day after Christmas, our family headed out there for a week long vacation and I must say, the experience brought me a lot of peace. In the coming year, I hope to visit as often as possible. Now we're home and back in the real world again. The real world isn't bad though, is it? I began my year as I wanted, surrounded by family and writing. I even managed to finish a book that has been hanging over my head. So this year my hope is to write a bit more, spend more time with family and friends and hopefully shed a few nasty habits. Fingers crossed.

What are you hopes and dreams for the coming year?

Positively Negative and NO to Resolutions!

I’m not so conceited that I believe everyone has been wondering like crazy where I’ve been.

But I’m sure a few of you have definitely thought about it. After all, you had to miss my big damn mouth! HA!!!

First I moved. And between house hunting and actually moving, that took up about three months of my life. I had furniture to sell, furniture to buy (which meant a whole lot of shopping, lol), and meetings with realtors and attorneys. Took a lot longer and was a lot more stressful than I ever thought it would be.

Then came the sickness. I broke my ankle and couldn’t spend any time at the comp because I couldn’t rest my  ankle properly. Then my oldest had a major kidney infection. Her third in seven months. Loads of tests later, we still don’t know why she is getting these infections. Dangerous infections that are damaging her kidneys. So we wait and see. And I just got over bronchitis.

My boy had a major mishap as well.  He was accidentally shot in the eye by another kid while they were engaged in Airsoft play. The situation hasn’t been good. I thought I was going to lose my mind. I didn’t sleep a lot and worried constantly. He’s doing fine now. His eyesight has changed, there are issues to be dealt with, and it may take months if not years to finally pronounce him healed. But we are hopeful that everything is going to work out just fine.

So basically, I’ve been offline taking care of family and business. I have not written anything since June.  And my editing had to take a back seat when my boy got hurt. There was not an ounce of me leftover to do anything else.

So what now? Well, since the boy is going back to school on Wednesday. Since it is a new year. I begin –again—today. Yes, I’m going back to writing. I need it. I’m not making any New Year’s resolutions. Not promising myself a damn thing. No predictions of success at all. Not even going to think about which books I have started that I’m going to finish. I’m half a year behind is all I know, and it’s going to take me a while to fix that for sure.

What worries me is that I have to push myself to get back online. Until this move, until my two kids had these problems, until I had spent so much time offline, I had assumed I was addicted to being online. Apparently not. And dedicating myself to time online isn’t going to be easy for me. But I intend to start slowly. Lol I’m back to blogging each Monday, and I’ll be on Facebook a couple of times a week. Other than that, I’m going to concentrate on finishing up some works in progress.

But just so you all know…

Life has not been all doom and gloom. Nope. Not at all. I love where I’m living. So do the kids. The girls moved out and have their own place now. So it’s very very quiet here. Lol Christmas was great. My sis came for a visit and we had a wonderful time.  Now it’s just a matter of me planting butt in chair!!!

I’m going to leave you today with a funny story.

I had just gotten out of the shower and heard the dog barking like crazy outside. So I went to my bedroom window---naked---and peeled back the blind just a tiny bit. I saw a man walking next to our fence and our dog was raising hell with him. So I leaned forward and tapped on the window---trying to get the dog’s attention to keep her from barking. But I forgot I was naked and…well…flashed the man. Yep, I did. To make matters worse, I didn’t even realize it initially and tapped on the window again when the dog failed to turn around and look at me to get my stern-face scolding. That’s when I realized the man had stopped dead in his tracks and was looking at me. I jumped from the window and fell back on the bed.

The dog kept barking. I tried to settle down—all the while whispering: “OMG OMG OMG.”

I finally got dressed and went to the door and got the dog inside—after a sufficient amount of time had passed and I was certain the walker was gone, of course. I then sat down and told my brother what had just happened. Well, he bent over double with laughter. To be expected. It’s funny. Right? Well, then he had to go and make matters worse when he said: “The man probably thought you were knocking on the window to get HIS attention, NOT the dog’s.”

OMG OMG OMG OMG….

I bet that’s exactly what that man thought.

I wish all of you a wonderful  year!

Kisses and hugs…

Tess