Saturday, September 24, 2011

Saturday Snark

Who can resist some snark?  Not a lot of people, it's starting to look like and Marie Sexton's helping to satisfy everyone's desire for some smart ass with the Saturday Snark Blog Hop.

Hope everyone enjoys my little Snarky, cherry-popping offering.

From my WIP, tentatively titled, "GrovePark Hotel":

Eden Grove is Evan Morgan's best friend and she's not too keen on his latest bed partner...

     She was brilliant and sharp and knew Evan better than he knew himself sometimes.
     “So, how’s Simon?”
     Oh, and he forgot to add: she was a complete bitch.
     She sipped her coffee so daintily, her lashes batting in the perfect imitation of innocent interest, but Evan knew better.
     “I’m not married, for fuck’s sake.” He heaved himself off the table, sprawling out against the wide leather seat they shared, using the excuse of removing the lid from his still-steaming cup to avoid looking her in the eye. “Nothing wrong with admiring the view.” He added with a shrug, licking the foam that always clung to the top.
     Leaning back herself, she mirrored Evan’s posture and spoke behind the lip of her cup. “Thank God for small mercies.”

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Happy Birthday, Hank Edwards!

Internet friendships are a dime a dozen.  You have hundreds of Facebook friends at any given time, follow countless people on Twitter, but how many of those ever actually have an impact on your life?  A random *hug* or *love you, hon* does not a friend make, in my opinion.

A friend to me is someone that reaches out when they don't have to, offers encouragement and guidance while never expecting anything in return...that does things out of the genuine kindness of their heart.

Hank, one of my greatest joys over the past months has been the opportunity to become friends with you.  Your unconditional love, support and belief in me has been a blessing that I can never hope to repay.  I strive to be half the talent that comes so naturally and easily to you.

I wish you nothing but love, happiness and success in the coming year.  No one deserves it more.

Happiest of birthdays and all my love and gratitude.

Now...go party like the rock star you are!!!!

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

My First Time...

Well, it's here, and I've been trying to get Blogger to cooperate all morning so I could post and squee and generally annoy the hell out of everyone, but of course, nothing can ever go smoothly.  The bastard. (Blogger, that is). :P

Like I was, my novella, my FIRST novella, Fragile, was released as part of Dreamspinner's daily dose antho, "First Time for Everything". <Insert ear-piercing *squee* here>

Annnnnd, a <dreamy sigh>. It's such a pretty cover...Anyway....

While I am beyond nervous about anyone ever reading it, I am still very proud of the fact that it's out there to read.  Anyone who picks it up, I hope you enjoy.  : )

Here's the 411:

Dr. Andy Jameson considers the job of team physician for a regional college football team to be the perfect prelude to a specialized residency. But tending to injuries suffered during the brutal, full-contact sport is nothing compared to the injury he inflicts upon himself by falling in love with the ruggedly handsome head coach, Erik Sheridan. Andy’s content to love from afar until he literally sees the writing on the walla message hastily scrawled on the coach’s bathroom mirrorand realizes his last night on the job could be just the beginning of a life with the man he loves.

And, a little sneak peek:


“Doc, you look as tired as I feel.” His voice was deep and scratchy, as if he had been talking too much, though it was probably due more to the emotional overload. He nodded his head toward the stack of papers lying on the desk in front of Andy. “You about finished there?”

Andy’s head bobbled like one of those dolls as he continued to stare up at the man standing in front of him. He must have looked like an idiot, but he was too tired to care. These were the last few moments he’d be in the coach’s presence, and he was going make the most of them.

Andy cleared his throat when he noticed the half-smile the coach had on his face, bringing him back to reality.

“I just need you to sign off on them, here.” He began shuffling the papers nervously, searching to put the ones on top that needed the coach’s signature.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when the coach’s big hand clasped his shoulder. “Bring them inside; we’ll take care of them.”

The warmth of the Coach Sheridan’s palm remained even after he turned to head into his office, leaving Andy to snatch up the papers and follow him.

“It’s been a helluva day,” Coach Sheridan offered, closing the office door as Andy followed behind him. The coach hung his suit jacket on the back of his desk chair before collapsing into it with a heavy sigh. He shoved his fist through his salt and pepper locks, pulling on them in complete frustration. “A helluva day.” He laid his head back against the leather of his seat, his eyes closed, every line of his body echoing the tiredness that was etched onto his face. “That was a career-ending injury.” His voice was barely audible, stretched thin with pain. “Just a kid and his dream could be over.”

This was one of the aspects of the coach that made him so attractive to Andy. Beyond the rugged good looks and the swagger of a man who was keenly aware of his appeal to those around him, he had compassion. To the outside, these players were nothing more than athletes chosen to increase the odds of the team making it to a post-season bowl game, but to those who were lucky enough to see inside the locker rooms and to be present at practices, these were the coach’s kids.

In his late forties, and having never been married, he took these players under his wing. He was always there for them to lend an ear, offer support, to give advice. Those kids looked up to him, and the mutual respect they had was the reason the football team played so consistently well.

 Andy didn’t know what to say… what to do. He sat down in the opposite chair, forgetting the papers for now. “Is that what they said?” he asked quietly, wishing now he had gone to the hospital too. A lot of truth was in what the doctors didn’t say.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

The Next Generation...

I haven't had much to say over here lately. Not really much going on in my little corner of the world to give me anything worth jotting down.

So, today, I thought I would spotlight something that is near and dear to my daughter.  She is certainly growing into her own, just turned 14, bright, sweet and beyond precious (no, I am not biased in the least) ;) But, I also think she's enormously talented!  Her dream is to be a writer...she makes Mama so proud. And, I have to say, for her age, I think she may well be on her way.

Without further ado, I would like to present chapter one in her novel,

Riverbed by Isabel V.

Toward the east, the sun hung low in the sky, peeking through the top most trees of the mountains. Violet pink streaks of early sunlight lightly painted the clouds with soft color. Between the clouds, patches of turqouise-blue sky peeked through. The sun, the clouds, the golden rays of light made the whole sky a patchwork quilt of incredible wonder. 

Outside my bus window, blurring by much too fast to get a clear glimpse, was the thick, verdent forests. The pine trees' and maples' branches were thick and heavy with leaves, and distantly I could hear the faint chirping of birds as the too noisy bus rode by. Occasionally, a stream or river would flow by; the sunlight making diamond-dimensions on the water's surface. Inside the bus, it was much too loud. Well, if you're in a bus full of screaming teenagers then you know its going to be too loud. 

I sit in the back of the bus, trying to keep my eyes away from any eyes directed at me. There is always somebody whispering rumors and lies about me; of course if you're a social outcast, then you get so used to hearing things about you, that you stop caring. But this time the others' conversation is not about me, for which I was grateful, it was about the trip to Tremont they were excited about.

Tremont is the small summer camp located in the deep, mysterious Smokey Mountains. Right now, my entire sophomore class is going there as a year-end field trip for the entire summer, something I was feeling a little nauseous about. Sure, I am excited for all the activities the camp has, its just that I'm scared of meeting new people, since there would be others not just from my sophomore class, but from other schools and kids who have been left there by their parents. The mere thought makes me sick to my stomach. 

Frantically, I searched for something else to think about. I could remember my mom telling me goodbye before I got on the bus...

My mother looks like me only a bit taller than my five-foot-three height. She always smiles, and there's always life in her eyes, but now all I could see was worry as I put my one piece of luggage into the small trailer that would carry all of the kids' and my luggage.

" Lia, honey, you don't have to go", she had said, looking like she's about to cry. I smiled sympathetically at her, with my father dead before I was even born, I'm all she has left. Often I heard stories that before my father died, my mother used to have the most beautiful singing voice. They say when she was out in her garden, she used to sing old, beautiful songs no one has ever heard of. My mother does smile and look happy now, but sometimes I would often see a look that would make me think that sometimes I don't realize how much real pain she's in. I've never heard her sing.

" I'll be fine, Momma", I assured her, as I gave her a warm hug, "I love you."

When I broke out of the hug, she held my hand tightly and gave me a small smile, observing my face

"Alright, just be careful," she spoke, her voice gentle. We both knew about the kids and what they thought of me. My mother smiled sympathetically.

"If anyone gives you trouble, call me. You can come home whenever you want to, baby girl."

"Okay, Momma. Love you"

"Love you too, baby."

Soon I got onto the bus that would take me to Tremont, and she was gone.

People didn't scare me, but it was the fear of talking that made who I am. I try to talk to people more often, yet at the same time I'm not sure what to talk about. Most teenagers my age would worry about where the next party is or who's wearing this or that. Myself, I try to look into the deeper meaning of things, and not focus on the material things that most kids would worry about. My lack of friends and my muteness made me the target of harrassers and, ostracizing by my peers. Now, when I say muteness, I don't mean the muteness that has to make you do sign language or Ariel in The Little Mermaid. I mean the muteness that comes on you for fear of how others might think or react to what you say or do. If only there was someone out there who doesn't judge me based on how I act. Is there anyone out there? Anyone at all?

Aggravated at my unanswered questions, I pulled my earthy-green jacket hoodie over the top of my eyes, hoping that I'll probably sleep the whole way there. As soon as I pulled my jacket hoodie over my eyes, I focused on nothing but silence. Yes, silence. Which is difficult to do in an atomosphere where its so loud, but not impossible. I focused on that as I slowly slipped away. . .

A loud scrapping sound made my eyes fly open in shock. At first, my eyes were blurry and my muscles stiff, but there was something else. Something played in the back of my mind, but it was dense and opaque like looking through thick clouds of smoke. I think it was the dream I had when I was napping, and as I tried to remember I could see a face. Unfortunately, I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman's, but it was a face I could tell you that.

Before I could make out more features of the face in my opaque memory, the bus door suddenly creaked open. A few impatient fifteen-year-olds, got out of their seats as quickly as if the devil himself was on the bus. The driver looked exsasperated at the recklessness of them. Unwillingly, I followed the kids out of the bus. The driver looked pleased that I was the only civilized person in the whole crowd. As I passed, he gave me a smile while I got out of the bus. I quickly smiled back out of politeness. 

As I got out of the bus, I surveyed Tremont. We were parked in a small parking garage that is right next to a small, wooden building that said Office. In front of me, was a steep hill that led up to two much larger buildings that I suspected were the mess hall and dorms. Although, there is one remaining factor that remains the same as I look around: trees. 

And how tall these trees are! Their canopies were hanging heavily with leaves, threatening that if there are anymore leaves their limbs will break. Toward the west, the evening sun cast glorious hues of orange and red into the sky. Nearby I could hear the ever-rushing of the river. I was so immersed in the beauty, I hadn't realized that our small group was headed toward a small field, where we will stay here until the luggage truck will arrive, as the camp counselors said. Immeadiately, the girls and boys quickly seperated and were now situated in small groups. All of those groups I did not belong. Trying to keep from unwanted eyes, I went to a small space in the clearing that was completelyempty of people. Laying down, my entire being felt as if it were being pushed down gently by some kind of massive force. Then, I suddenly felt strangely drowsy, if there were incense in the air, but there wasn't any. Fanning my hair out above my head, on the ground, I had a sudden urge to close my eyes, though before I could slip away completely into unconsciousness, I spotted a subtle movement in the tops of the trees to my right, that at first I mistook it for a gentle breeze, making the leaves bow. Though, as I closely examined it, a sudden gasp leapt in my throat, a quiet shiver softly rolling down my back. I never seen anything like it, even though I've seen that type of creature before in some of my biology books.

For in the trees, staring intently at me, was the largest hawk I've ever seen.

It was a beautiful hawk though, with silky, brown feathers and a well, formed beak; its eyes are a rich, warm brown color, but its eyes seemed too intelligent for a wild animal though.  Even though its eyes are beautiful, they are what startled me the most. In its eyes, I could a look so cold and so possessive, it seemed to stare deep into the basis of my soul. I shivered delicately; I wanted to look away from them so badly, yet at the same time, behind its eyes, I could see a look of longing as the hawk continued to gaze at me. 

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the hawk glanced away to the distance behind him, then made one final glance back at me, then spread its wings, in a manner that looked like it was showing off, then leaping from its strong claws, soared away, into the the forest before it finally disappeared. 

For a few more seconds longer, I stared into the direction the hawk had taken; I was completely frozen in place. The sharp sound of a whistle made me jump, making my heart beat fast. From where I sat in the little plot of land I dominated, I could see the rest of the kids again dissolved into one immense group. A few counselors told us that the truck that carried luggage is finally here, so they'll be showing us to our dorms after we get our luggage. The group started moving up the steep hill I recalled from earlier, though I couldn't concentrate much on where I was going because of the thoughts swirling around in my head about the hawk. And also the new feeling of fear in my stomach.

 No, not the feelings of nervousness I described earlier, this was a new fear. One of total paranoia and the feeling of eyes boring into my back. I looked around nervously a couple of times, making the preps whisper under their breath. Even though I tried to shake the feeling off, I kept thinking that the hawk was watching me. The feeling pricked all over me in uncomfortable pinches, and I felt as if someone was behind me, but when I looked back there's no one. 

When we finally got to the top of the rugged hill, the small truck that held our bags was there. A few camp counselors started relieving the truck of luggage and putting the bags into a small pile so the kids can dig into the pile to find their bags. As if the kids were bees and there was honey being thrown into a pile at their feet, they immediately started to dig at the pile. I couldn't get to the pile because I was, unfortunately, too short to see over the kids to look for my bags. So I, being already irritated and tired, had to wait a few minutes longer for the crowd to disperse. Being bored already, I tapped my foot just for something to do and to keep my mind off the hawk and the new feelings that still churned within me. 

Eventually, the crowd slowly turned into just a handful of kids that I know that are nice and friendly to me, but not exactly my friends. Alecsis Paige, a blonde headed girl, is in my English class, and we're often partners during projects in class. Liberty Mason, is a withdrawn girl, but more sociable than I am. Matthew Johnson is the quarterback back at the high school, but when off the field, he would rather read and write. They all waved nervously at me; I could tell­ they were just as nervous as I am, minus the creepy feelings that I had gotten from that hawk. They each went before me to get their bags; I insisted they get theirs' first. I went to get my bags, but there was another girl waiting there, not just me. She was the exact same height as me, and had an expression on her face that I could only describe as nervous and unsure. She has long, dirty blonde hair, and large blue eyes. I motioned with my hand for her to get her bags first before I did. Looking at me, she hastily shook her head and instead motioned for me to get my things first. Not wanting to start an argument on who gets their bags first, I did as told and got my scrawny little duffle bag. My mother and I pooled our resources to supplement me for my entire trip, but it was still scanty. 

A camp counselor pointed out the way to the girls dorms, and I followed his directions perfectly, leading me up a steep stair case that clung to the side of dorms. The counselor told me that the first floor was the boys' dorm and the stairs on the side lead to the girls' dorm. Once I'm finally to the top, I hesitate outside the door. I took a deep breath before opening the door, then I slowly go in. 

The room is long and rectangular, with little clumps of bunk beds going down through the middle of the room. Small pathways went inbetween the bunks, so people can easily move around. On the sides of the room, are small little "rooms". I say ' rooms' like that because it is'nt really a room, but it isn't really part of the bunk beds either. Each of the "rooms" have two beds on either side of the small space, and a small window was set inbetween the headboards of the two beds. Most of the bunks and "rooms" were already taken, with girls scurrying everwhere, some talking to others while laying on the beds or looking through their suitcases for the hairbrushes, since their hair is tangled and messy from the day of travel. 

Feeling like an idiot just standing there staring, I quickly took one of the unavailable "rooms"to my left, I didn't want to share a "room" with someone who doesn't like me, and there was no hope in heaven that I would be sleeping in one of those bunks, so without any idea where to go I just went to the nearest unavailable space. Unzipping my duffle bag, I unloaded my blankets and pillows and preoccupied myself with making my bed to keep my mind off those stupid feelings and that hawk. After making my bed, and with nothing else to do, I got my small Ziploc bag of bathroom nescessities and hurried into the bathroom that was right down the small pathway. 

The bathroom was easy to spot; there was a large sign that said Bathroom with a large, white arrow pointing to the door. Inside, on the left were the bathroom stalls and on the right side of the wall were the shower stalls. I checked underneath the bathroom stalls for feet twice then inside the showers. Thankfully, I was all alone. I thrust my bag down on the counter beside one of the five sinks. I looked at myself in front of the mirror, my face was twisted with worry and confusion. What's wrong with me? Why am I so scared of stupid bird? Its just an animal for crying out loud. Nothing more than an animal, right? I wasn't sure. I frowned at myself. What do you mean you're not sure? I don't know.

Muttering to myself I yanked out my brush and started to comb through my tangled, dark hair. After the bristles were filled with hair, I looked at my reflection. My blue eyes, my dark hair, my light skin, I'm still me. Lia Stewart. Whom no one gave a care about besides my mother, and my few aquaintances. Still the same average, plain-looking girl I've known for sixteen years; I've never let anyone bother me. But now? A stupid, dumb hawk. I can't believe it.

I sighed deeply, covering my face in my hands. After a while, I pulled myself up and just stared into the mirror at myself, clutching the sides of the sink almost painfully, that I almost didn't notice the thick, smoke cloud that seemed to materialize in the mirror.

Wait, a smoke cloud? In the mirror?

Glancing back behind me, hoping to see some kind of mist or smoke, I could see nothing, but the pale linoleum wall behind me. Puzzled, I turned back to face the mirror, though when I looked I had to stifle a scream that now threatened to build past my throat. 

For in the mirror, was a boy.

Well not exactly a boy; he might be seventeen or eighteen, but there was already an undeniable matureness that you don't often see in a boy. Also the face, wasn't really a face at all, but a soft mist that sort of flickered like the flame of a candle. I was so frozen in shock that I almost didn't notice that the face in the mirror smiled at me, but it was an evil smile of triumph, not the type of smile that people use when they accidentally frighten people. This smile was like the kind a treasure hunter would wear when he found a priceless gem. Also the eyes. . . they looked familiar. . . Oh, my God. . .

Those were the same eyes that I saw in the hawk.

While I staggered back from those horrible eyes, as quickly as the face smiled it disappeared, like turning on the light switch. Frozen in shock, all I could do was stare at the mirror to see if the face would come back. But, after a while, it didn't and I was grateful for that; I didn't want to stare into those eyes again. Slowly, I took a deep breath grabbed my bag of toiletries, and hurried out of the bathroom. I practically almost ran for my bed. Surely that face I saw was just my imagination going over drive because of that hawk I saw earlier. Maybe it was just trick of the light, or somebody's reflection in the mirror. Maybe the person took a shower; that would explain the mist.

Still I couldn't help but feel that something, and I'm pretty sure its bad, was coming after me.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Happy Birthday, Aleksandr Voinov!!

It's hard to believe I have only known you for a year...but what a year it has been.  It is not an understatement when I say that you have made a major impact in my life.

To you, I owe so much.  You have touched my life...brightened it with your kindness and thoughtfulness, your wisdom and selflessness.  I know, I have told you all of this before, but I feel it can never be said too much.

My wish for you the coming year is all the happiness, success and love that you could ever want. No one could deserve it more.

All my love....

Thursday, April 21, 2011


It doesn't come out until 1 June, but it is up for pre-sale right now.  It contains short stories from over twenty great authors.  And, I happen to be included, too. : )

My short story:  Fragile blurb--

Dr. Andy Jameson considers the job of team physician for a regional college football team to be the perfect prelude to a specialized residency. But tending to injuries suffered during the brutal, full-contact sport is nothing compared to the injury he inflicts upon himself by falling in love with the ruggedly handsome head coach, Erik Sheridan. Andy’s content to love from afar until he literally sees the writing on the wall—a message hastily scrawled on the coach’s bathroom mirror—and realizes his last night on the job could be just the beginning of a life with the man he loves.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Happy Happy Joy Joy

Wow, it's been a bit dry around here lately.  Nothing to blog about least nothing that would interest anyone to read about it.  Just real life problems and issues being a drag, but hey!  When aren't they?

But, yesterday was a BIG...HUGE...TOTALLY for me.  In my email inbox yesterday was a message from Dreamspinner Press, announcing the Daily Dose Anthology, First Time for Everything, is available for pre-order.  This is the anthology that will include my very own short story, "Fragile".  My very first published work!!!!!!

(I know, I have mentioned that a million times here already, but sheesh, sue me, I am STOKED!!)

Taking a peek at the link, I got to see the other authors that were included, and, once again, I was blown away.  I mean, these are authors I REALLY admire, so I am skunnered to think I will be published right along side them. 

Someone, pinch me, please.  : )

Oh, and lookie this cover not the sexiest thing you have ever seen???


That's my VERY FIRST COVER!!!!  How did I get so lucky?

I am not resting on my laurels, however.  I am currently working on three projects, simultaneously.  Yeah, my brain is about to turn to mush, but I am eager and hungry for more, PLUS I have a couple of people, really IMPORTANT people, pushing and encouraging me to get more out there.  So, I am striving to do just that.  I hope to get another post up later about these projects because I am really excited about them.

Well, that's it for now, enough with the "look at me!"...there is work to be done. : )

Friday, April 1, 2011


It's Friday and the sun has been shining here for the first time all week, but it's still too damn cold.

So, to kick start the weekend, here's a little sumpin' sumpin' to warm all those chilly bits.

Courtesy of Homotography-
Aaron O'Connell photographed by Mariano Vivanco:

Thursday, March 31, 2011


It's been a while since I've posted anything here.  Seems I can't keep up with anything anymore.  Wellllll, if I stayed off of Facebook every once in a while, I might could get something done. that will ever happen.  I am one of those freakish FB addicts.  Oh, well...c'est la vie...suppose there are worse things to be addicted to, true?

Isn't there?  Please, tell me there is. :P

So, where am I?  I just know there are sooooo many of you dying to know what's the what with me, so here goes...

The past couple of weeks have mostly sucked donkey balls (thank you, Aleks!).  But, only mostly.  While I have had some real problems,  health-wise, which I won't whine about publicly anymore...that's just so...unattractive and unappealing to me.  No more pity parties, please.  Those problems have left me with an over-abundance of...time.  Just lazing about time;  nothing to do time.   I have spent that time writing, and writing a lot, amazingly enough, but just not getting anywhere very fast.  I am currently working on three different things simultaneously, so it seems I am moving in slow motion.

Since this bout of health issues, at the same exact moment that I get my very first contract for publication, I feel like I need to hurry.  As if the other shoe is going to drop at any moment and I want more...more of this elation that getting published has given me...more of the pride and awesome support I am getting from so many talented people.

Do you know what it feels like to have your idol...your all time favorite author tell you that they ate your story up...that they want to see more???

It's like nothing I can describe.

Huh!  Some writer I am.

But, it does something to me...for the first time I have this feeling I have never had before in my life...I don't even know what the word for it is...but that someone so very important to me, has faith and belief in me????

I am so very humbled.

So, for him, to make him proud and prove he wasn't wrong to believe in me...and for myself,  because for the first time, I believe in myself...I am going to keep working as long as I possibly can.

Thank you for believing in me...I couldn't love you more if I tried.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Can you believe it?!?!

It's been a while since I updated here.  Sadly, real life has had me by the short hairs and the little bitch  refuses to let go anytime soon.  But, I am hanging on because I am definitely not ready to let her win anytime soon.

My 41st birthday was a week ago today.  41...holy shit that is insane!  I don't even know how that happened; it literally was in the blink of an eye.  What's weird, is I still feel like that 17 year old high school kid...and probably act like one, too, if truth were told.  I don't care.  I like how I am; who I am.

On my birthday (complete coincidence, btw) I sent off my very first short story in an attempt to have it published.  It was a submission call from Dreamspinner Press.  A very sweet Lee Brazil suggested I try to submit something.  So, I did.  I worried and struggled and was just a complete and total lost mess.  Query letter?  WTF???  I was clueless.  Then, the super supportive and just-as-sweet, Hank Edwards, offered to help.  He read my story, offering me invaluable insight, teaching me to see my writing with new eyes.  I was astounded, and I will be forever grateful to him for that.

Because, I am certain that without his help, I wouldn't now be sending in my signed contract!!!!!!!!!

YES!!!!!!!!  Dreamspinner wants to publish my story.  Mine!  ME!!!!

Getting that email yesterday, of all days, saying they wanted to publish it, for reasons I don't want to post about (MAJOR drag) because I don't want to harsh on my own happy-amazed-skunnered joy.

I just keep pinching myself.  It's nice to hear your friends say they love your writing, but I never know and always question if they are just saying that to be nice.  To have a publishing company offer you a contract??? It's just all kinds of validation and makes me want to get more words down, to keep going.  Stuck in bed as I am, it's the perfect time to accomplish that.  Makes me feel like the universe is conspiring to give me the chance to weird.

So, on this St. Patrick's day, I may not be able to imbibe the green beer like I might want, but I feel like the luck of the Irish is now with me.

May St. Patrick guard you wherever you go,
and guide you in whatever you do--
and may his loving protection be a blessing to you always.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Going For It...

Well, I have decided to leap, head-first...I have decided to GO FOR IT and am finishing up a short story to sub for an anthology.  Gah!!!!

This is my dream.  It has been for a while, but me being the procrastinator and always listening to my inner bitch telling me I could never do it, I have finally shoved a sock down her throat and put my fingers in my ears and am loudly 'lalalala-ing' to drown out her negativity.

Although I am going to send this thing in, and am really excited about just accomplishing that (whether they take it or not), I never would have done this on my own...never would have known about this opportunity...never would have thought this story merited anymore attention than I had already given it if it hadn't been for Lee Brazil.

Yes...Lee Brazil!!  The uber-talented, published author that I consider a dear friend.  He actually is the one that suggested I try to do this.

What the what?????


Ok...let's just stop there for just a second.  Lee is, I think, about the nicest person I have ever met.  Honestly. I have never heard or seen him have a cross word to say, is always gracious and friendly to anyone and everyone.  I read his work and admire his talent IMMENSELY.  He is one of my top faves, to be honest (and NO I am not saying that because I know him or whatever).  So, to have someone whose own talents you so greatly admire, and whose opinion you have them mention that you should try...that HE deems my words worthy to give it a great is that?

It's fucking AMAZING!!!!

So, Lee...whether I am successful or not...I still can't thank you enough for the unbelievable gift that you have given me...your belief in me.

This has kick-started something in me...that little bitch in my head doesn't have as much to say just lately.  And, though I know I am not the next great American author, it doesn't matter...I love what I am doing and that their are other people who are enjoying my little ditties...that is just bonus.

Thank you, Lee.

And, a photo I just had to steal...Thank you, George's hoping. : )

Thursday, February 17, 2011


I was thinking, earlier, that it was this time last year that I read the amazing, epic book, "Special Forces"  co-written by Aleksandr Voinov, and what a turning point that was in my life.

Last February, I was in a very bad place, emotionally.  I was involved with a person that ended up hurting me more than I could almost deal was a very very bad time.  My home life was a shambles, my marriage was bad, I wasn't the mother my kids needed or deserved.  It was the worst time of my life by far, and one of my own making, I fully accept my responsibility, now, for it all.  I did things that were bad, that went against what I had always believed.  It was me.  Completely and totally.  I see that now.  Perhaps it was my own mid-life crisis, but whatever it was, it happened and it hurt beyond my endurance, but I am still here in spite of it all.

One of the things I give credit to helping me find my way was "Special Forces".  It's hard to imagine how a story about the relationship between a Russian Spetznaz and a British Special Forces soldier during the early 80's Russian occupation of Afghanistan could help a middle-aged housewife and mother through her own personal hell, but it did.

In some weird, crazy, totally random and wonderful way, I ended up not only finding that great book but also in becoming a friend of the author.  Yes, fangrrlness CAN become something real and honest.  I sit here now, wearing a very special gift he sent to me, and it makes me smile.

This year since, I have met lots of wonderful new people.  Some have become treasured friends, while others...not so much.  I am the first to admit, I am gullible and trust way too easily, much to my detriment.  But what I hate the most about that, is when I see my friends succumbing to those that never show their true colors.

I am who I am, and if you don't like me, that's your prerogative.  If you want to be that person, behind the scenes, talking out of both sides of your mouth- knock yourself out.  They are always the first ones to cry they are drama-free and above the fray, but always seem to be at the core of all that happens.

Today, I have been struggling with a huge decision.  It isn't easy, and I know it's only going to effect me in the long run and grand scheme of things, but sometimes in your life, you face something that you just can't ignore, and I feel like this is one of those times.  No one understands it, and I am certain that those that are marginally effected could care less, but sometimes you just have to take a stand.

I treasure my friends, the very VERY few that I have, that are real and dear friends...

This is me... STANDING.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Happy Valentine's Day!

Valentine Widget by Widgia

A day dedicated to love...what could be better than that?

How about a day dedicated to love and the latest installment to The Story Orgy???

Oh yeah...........

Now, I have to post this with a disclaimer.  Since posting last weeks, I have been Sick.  Yes, Sick, with a captial 'S'.  Knocked down by the flu, then sidelined with a case of bronchitis that has had me in and out of the emergency room over the weekend.  So, I hope everyone will read this with that in mind.

I haven't re-read it, and I am SURE it is full of some doozy errors.  At some point this week, when I am more clear-headed and ungorked, I hope to rework it.  As it is now, I just hope it makes sense...sigh.

Much love and a whole heap of thanks for giving me a break if it rots.

This week's prompt:  "If I tell you the truth..."

This week's image, courtesy of Jade Baiser:

Revelation- pt. 3

Gus sighed his relief, hearing Chris’s promise.  No matter how mad he may be at Gus, he would keep his word.  Gus just needed time…to explain…to figure out what was going on in his own head.

Earlier at the club, watching Chris with his date, something had clicked inside of Gus, and had simmered all night long.   But, when he had watched as Chris and the guy kissed goodnight, the ‘something’ had become blinding in its intensity and had caught Gus completely off-guard.

Thank God the guy hadn’t been in Chris’s bed when Gus had snuck in...He wasn’t sure what would have happened, but he was more than certain Chris wouldn’t be willing to hear him out now if he had been.

Though he had Chris’s promise, he still didn’t want to give him any wiggle room, literally or figuratively.  So, Gus, slowly slid to the side, keeping their bodies in close contact as he moved to lie facing Chris on the floor.  His leg still rested across Chris’s hip, his arm wrapped around Chris’s middle, Gus rested his head on the other and searched Chris’s face in the dim light.

“Well?”  Chris finally asked, his brows drawn tight, his face unreadable.  It was the first time Gus had ever seen that in Chris; shielding his thoughts for the first time since they had known each other.  It made Gus uncomfortable and more than a little wary, and that was definitely a  feeling he wasn’t used to.

Chris was stiff, his body rigid and unyielding.  Gus felt his frustration rising…why couldn’t Chris see what Gus was trying to say, without making him have to spill it all out between them?

Gus sighed and Chris moved to get up, but Gus held tight, his hand splaying against Chris’s back, his leg holding tighter around his hip.

“You have my promise, Gus, just say what you want to say.  It’s damned uncomfortable here on the floor.”

Chris’s frustration was tangible and Gus knew his reluctance to now speak was only making matters worse, so he took a deep breath.  “Can I stay with you tonight?”

That did it.  Before Gus could react, Chris had jumped to his feet with a disgusted groan.

“You are a piece of work.”  Chris bit off as he stormed off down the hall.  “Are you high tonight?  Is that it?  Drinking’s not enough anymore?”

Gus sat up, hugging his knees tightly to his chest as he listened to Chris rifling through the cupboard and continuing to berate him…and he deserved every word Chris threw at him.

“What the fuck is going on with you?  I don’t understand all…this…tonight?  The theatrics.   Why, Gus?”  Chris came back in the room with an armload of blankets and a pillow he threw in the general direction of the sofa.  “You don’t have to act like you want to sleep with me, you know.  Have I ever turned you away from my door?  When have I ever not been there for …”

“You have always been there for me.”  Gus interjected quietly, his chin resting on his knee as he stared at the floor at Chris’s feet.  “Always…”

“Yeah, trust me, I am aware of how much of a doormat I am when it comes to you.”  Gus closed his eyes against the acid of Chris’s words.  

He was totally aware of the corner he had painted himself into, whatever Gus said now Chris would automatically have his defenses up against.  Hell, Gus couldn’t blame him.  He had taken advantage of Chris’s feelings over and over in the past and hadn’t ever given it a second thought.  Yes, he was paying for that dearly now, as he looked up from where he sat on the floor to the dejected and rightfully pissed off Chris standing on the other side of the room.

“I don’t think you’re a doormat.”

Chris barked a bitter laugh.  “Thanks, but we both know I am when it comes to you.”  Chris shoved his hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture.  “It’s late, I’m tired and I’m going to bed.  Everything you need is there,”   He motioned with a quick nod of his head at the sofa and the pile of bedding he had pulled out for Gus to use. 

With nothing else to say, Chris turned and headed back down the hall to his bedroom, as he passed Gus reached out and took his hand. 

Swallowing the fist-sized lump that was threatening to choke him, Gus held tight to Chris’s hand, staring intensely where their fingers entwined.  It hurt that Chris refused to look at him, but there was no going back now…not for either of them.

“Not everything I need is there.”  Gus informed Chris, finally rising up out of the floor, still clasping his hand tightly in his own.  “You’re not there.”  Gus whispered, lifting Chris’s hand to his lips, pressing them gently to the smooth skin on the back of Chris’s hand, letting them linger as he felt Chris tremble.

“Gus, don’t…”  He meekly tried to pull his hand away, but Gus held firm, letting his lips and breath skim each knuckle.

“I want to stay with you tonight, not on your couch…I want to be with you tonight, Chris, in your bed.”

Gus felt Chris freeze solid in place, heard the sharp breath he took and held.  Gus lifted his eyes to look at Chris and was crushed by the frightened, wide-eyed shock that marked his best friends face.   His heart cracked wide open and he cursed himself with everything he had that he had put that look on Chris’s face.

“I don’t understand.”  Chris managed to whisper and it caused another ripple of pain to tear through Gus.

“I know.”  Gus quietly admitted, ignoring the involuntary flinch Chris gave as Gus lifted his free hand to gently cup the side of Chris’s head.  “We need to talk…about so many things, but…later, ok?  Just for tonight, pretend I am the man you deserve…”

With that, Gus claimed Chris’s mouth and after only a brief moment of hesitation, Chris returned the kiss, sinking into it, sinking into Gus and the warm solidness of his embrace.  Gus left Chris unable to think, to hesitate as they somehow found their way down the hall, tumbling into Chris’s bed in a tangle of arms and legs.

They were naked within minutes, mouths trailing hot kisses over smooth, tight skin; teeth biting into firm muscle; hands kneading and stroking steely hardness; the sounds of lust and burgeoning love fueling their need.

Gus held nothing back, the time he had denied that he had felt anything for Chris roared out of him.  His body covered Chris’s, his mouth devouring Chris’s neck as Chris groaned  and writhed beneath him, arching for greater reach and to allow Gus all he wanted at his throat.

Their bodies were fused, sweat forming on the skin trapped between them.

“God, Chris.”  Gus panted heavily in Chris’s ear as Chris dug his fingers deeper into Gus’s ass, grinding their pelvises together hungrily.  “I want you…”

Chris groaned and shuddered hearing those words, knowing it wasn’t a dream or fantasy, but true and real and…now.

“I want you, too.”  Chris whispered into Gus’s hair.  “Do it.  Just go…slow.”

Gus raised his head from Chris’s throat.  “Are you sure?  We don’t have to do that…”

Chris smiled, wiping the damp tendrils of Gus’s hair back from his forehead.  “I want it.”

Gus’s face burned with high color as he smiled down at Chris before kissing him long and slow and deep.  “Just tell me if I do it wrong…”

Chris couldn’t help but laugh, more than a little shyly.  “I’m the last person you should ask, probably.”

Gus lifted himself up on his elbows, looking down at Chris.  “What do you mean?”

“If I tell you the truth…”  He trailed off, letting his eyes drift to a point beyond Gus’s left shoulder.

“Hey, you,”  Gus soothed, tipping Chris’s chin with a finger, so that he could see his eyes.  “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Chris visibly swallowed, his throat working nervously before he spoke.  “I’ve never…I didn’t…”

Gus took a deep breath, his heart swelling with a combination of love and awe.  “Because of me?”

Chris only shrugged, his eyes refusing to meet Gus’s now.  “I just never wanted anyone enough to let them…”

“But, you want me enough?”

Chris closed his eyes and stifled a groan.  “Is this turning into an ego trip for you?”

“No!”  Gus insisted, vehement in his denial.  He kissed Chris roughly until he felt the other start to respond again.  “Never.  I am…amazed.  I am touched and…humbled, Chris.  I don’t deserve you…I never have.”

Chris leaned up, kissing the soft spot just beneath Gus’s chin.  “But, that’s where you are wrong…”

***to be continued***

Please check out the blogs of the other Story Orgy members:

The Story Orgy

Monday, February 7, 2011

Story Orgy: Week 4

A whole month has gone by since the birth of the Story Orgy, and somehow that just doesn't seem possible.  But here it is, week #4, and we hope you all are still loving reading them as much as we are loving writing them.

As always, you can find the links to the other members offerings directly following this installment.


This week's prompt:  "I'm going to ask you to something I've never asked you before.  Promise me, you'll say yes."

"Promise,"  he said.

This week's image, courtesy of Jade Baiser:

Revelation- pt. 2

“Don’t you get it?”  Gus roared, sitting up in a rush.  “I want to be him!  I want to be that guy you want…the one that kisses you and sings with you and should have been in this bed if he wasn’t such a fucking wanker!”

Chris had reeled, stumbling out of the room before Gus could say another word.

He just couldn’t handle it; couldn’t handle hearing the feelings mocked that Chris had dreamed of Gus reciprocating since they were kids.  Gus knew how Chris felt, he had always known because Chris had never made it a secret…no matter how much it had hurt.

How could Gus be that cruel?

Fucking drunk bastard.

He sat on the sofa in the dark, his head hanging from his shoulders, his elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor beneath his feet.

“Get out.”  His voice was barely above a whisper, beyond desolate when he heard Gus step into the room.  Chris refused to look up, he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Gus dressed, heading out the door.

He wouldn’t look at him because he knew it would be for the last time, and as much as he hated Gus’s insensitivity at this moment, the thought of watching him walk out...


Chris braced his hands on his knees, gripping tightly, his fingers digging into bare skin.  He shook his head.  “Don’t say anything.  Just go.”

Gritting his teeth, Chris struggled to hold himself together as he waited for the sound of the door closing, but there was nothing but silence.

“Would you just listen to me?” 

“Why?”  Chris snapped, lifting his head just as sharply as his question bit the air.

Big mistake.  Why, did he look up?  He knew he had no defenses when it came to Gus.  None.  And, seeing him standing there in the doorway, the light spilling from the open bathroom door behind him, highlighting the broad width of his bare shoulders, the lean line that led to his waist, and the strong thighs that were now encased in faded denim of the jeans he had, mercifully. put on, seemed like a dream and a nightmare…everything he wanted but could never have.

Gus’s face was shadowed, but Chris could feel his eyes staring back at him. 

“Why, Gus?  Why should I listen to you?”

Gus shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans.  “Because you love me.”

The darkness of the room was flooded with red as the anger rose in Chris.  “If you don’t get the fuck out now, I’m…”

“I’m not leaving.”  Gus took a step into the room but Chris lunged before he could take another, barreling like a freight train into Gus’s mid-section, sending them both crashing to the floor.

It wasn’t a fair fight, the only reason they wrestled now was that Chris had taken Gus by surprise, and quickly and as gently as he could, Gus had Chris, face first, pinned to the floor.

With both of them breathing heavily from the strain and the emotion, Gus felt the tension ease in Chris’s body beneath him.  But this gave way to an entirely different sensation.

Chris shivered, resting his forehead on the cold floor.  He should still be fighting, shoving, kicking, trying anyway he could to get Gus off of him; away from him, but he just didn’t have the energy.

Gus took a deep breath, his body on the verge of some unknown brink…his feelings, his wants a new and frightening aspect that he wasn’t sure he understood.

What he did understand was that Chris was warm, his back smooth and sleek beneath his chest, his legs powerful and intoxicating entwined with his own.

What he did understand was that Chris had loved him always…no matter what Gus had done, no matter how many times he had fucked up…Chris had always been there, loving him.

With a shudder, Gus moved, his fingers cupping the back of Chris’s head, touching and feeling, for the first time, Chris’s surprisingly soft hair.  He felt Chris shudder in response as he placed his lips on his back, not really a kiss, but…something more.

Chris shook his head.  “Gus, please…”  He whispered, but stopped.

Please, what?  What was he begging for?  Please, don’t stop…don’t kiss me…don’t break my heart?

Gus’s fingers tightened on his scalp, stopping Chris from saying anything else as he moved to Chris’s ear.

“I’m going to ask you to do something I have never asked you to do before.”  Gus whispered, his lips brushing the outer shell of Chris’s ear.  His mind reeling, he closed his eyes, shivering, waiting for Gus to continue.  Promise me, you’ll say yes.”

Gus tenderly kissed that spot just below Chris’s ear and Chris swallowed hard, answering before he had time to think.


***to be continued***

Please check out the blogs of the other Story Orgy members:

The Story Orgy