Hello, Dolly

Can you feel it, too?

Even in the south, in the sweltering heat, we can feel the shift about mid-August. It’s barely perceptible, but it’s there. It’s the sense that summer is giving way to the fall and soon darkness will have its way with the light. From light to dim to dark.

Also, the rhythm of our lives changes just a bit, doesn’t it? Thoughts of beaches and bathing suits turn to fall leaves and sweaters – from cold drinks to hot apple cider.

It’s instinctual, I think. At least, it has always been that way for me and mine. I can only presume that you, too, sense the veil thinning. The veil between this world and the other side.

Each day as we drifted closer to the fall equinox, the balance of light tipped in favor of the night. At the same time, the barrier between the worlds grew ever slimmer. It continues to do so right up until All Hallows Eve. Some believe that passing between the veil only happens on October 31st. That’s not true, though. That’s just when the weakest can pass unhindered. Stronger spirits and entities can pass much sooner. Perhaps that’s why our minds turns to darker things, spooky things, creepy things. Maybe we can sense them among us. Could it be that we hear their whispers in our ears?

I only ask, because this strange little poem came to me from nowhere. I do believe Halloween is upon us, friends.

I love my little dolly, sweet;
She’s my best and only friend.
I bring her other kids to meet
But, they don’t come back again.

I suppose they just don’t like me,
Though, I can’t imagine why.
We’re both as sweet as we can be,
‘Cept when someone makes me cry.

My dolly doesn’t like me sad;
That is when she’s not so nice,
Bad things happen when she is mad,
So, it’s best that you think twice.

Celebrating Fathers, Dads, Daddies & More

For the Men of Honor,
Let’s take a moment to celebrate the men who have been there for us, lifting us, supporting us, encouraging us, protecting us and celebrating us. Sure, many are fathers by virtue of birth, but it takes more to be a Dad, Daddy, Step Dad, Uncle, Adopted Dad or any other name of honor that we give our personal Warriors. You are our Heroes.
With Love,
Just Another Daddy’s Girl

Wayward Words

Let us paint the worldWith our wayward wordsFrom fingertips and tongue. Letters mixed and swirled Trilled by mockingbirds – Poet, not poem, unsung. ~~*~~Written for World Poetry Day 2019, this little verse gave me a reason to switch hats from novelist to poet. And now, I’m switching once again from poet to blogger. I know. Read More

Image by Alejandro Tuzzi from Pixabay

Let us paint the world
With our wayward words
From fingertips and tongue.

Letters mixed and swirled
Trilled by mockingbirds –
Poet, not poem, unsung.
~~*~~
Written for World Poetry Day 2019, this little verse gave me a reason to switch hats from novelist to poet. And now, I’m switching once again from poet to blogger. I know. I know. I’ve been lax in updating this blog.

Mea culpa.

However, that doesn’t mean I haven’t been busy with writing projects. Because I have!

Thanks to my small but fierce team of beta readers, I’m 80% done with rewrites, edits, and whatnots of The Call. The plan is to have the entire manuscript polished by the end of the month. Incidentally, The Call was a finalist in the Sexy Scribblers contest and a partial manuscript (the first 14 chapters) is being read by an Editor at Carina Press who promises feedback. If liked, they may select it for publication, too. Fingers crossed.

Now it’s time to put on my laundress headwear before I get back into novelist-mode. I’ll save you the suspense and let you know that tomorrow’s attire includes both housekeeper and novelist. A writer’s life is so sexy ain’t it?

Blame it on Valentine’s Day

I opened the door and there he was holding a heart-shaped box of chocolates and a fistful of roses, beaming proudly, “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

“Damnit! Not you, too!” I blasted him and shut the door as I turned on my heel.

He opened the door and followed behind me. “What? It’s Valentine’s Day. I brought you gifts,” he whined.

I spun around to face him and snapped, “No. You brought you gifts. Those aren’t for me.”

His brows furrowed as we stood there staring at one another in an awkward silence. I folded my arms over my chest, not budging. Finally, his shoulders slumped and his arms dropped to his side, still holding the offerings in his hands. He eventually just looked down at the floor.

He was crestfallen, but I kept at him. It was for his own good, “I get it. You got all caught up in momentum of the day. But, that’s just not me and I thought it wasn’t you either. You were quite clear about that last year after that girl broke your heart,” I reminded him.

No more stupid, messy, useless love for me,‘ you said.

I drove the point home, “Remember? We…you and I…both of us…we were crystal clear about that.”

He shrugged and looked back up to me with that sheepish smile of his and those big, soft puppy dog eyes. “Well, it’s also our anniversary today.” He said. “One year since we met. I wanted to make that special at least.”

That’s when I felt it.

Love.

I thought I’d sensed it for some time, now. Those all too familiar angsty pangs were hitting my heart. The butterflies were fluttering in my stomach. Tendrils of aching need began to slither along my flesh. My mouth went so dry that I could barely speak. Somehow I managed to croak out, “Leave.”

But, he didn’t leave. He began walking towards me, his arms wide. I stumbled backwards trying to get away from him and his gifts and, mostly, his Love – that all consuming human emotion that wraps its hungry, suffocating tentacles around you squeezing until you gasp your last breath. Then he uttered that phrase, those three cursed words.

I tried to make him stop – to make it stop. Truly, I did. I demanded that he go away. I pleaded with him to just go outside and walk it off. By then, he was too far gone, I think. That damnable holiday pushed him over the edge. And, by the way, how they co-opted cupid into that commercialized mess is disgusting.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, so you can just spare me the disapproving look. I’m immune to it by now. It’s all my fault, right? I should know better. Blah, blah, blah. I’ve heard it all before. So, you can save the lecture.

In any case, I didn’t do away with this one altogether. Surprised, huh?

That’s right. While he was unable to maintain his self control, I kept my head and let him keep his…sort of. Let’s just say that he’s not the man he used to be and leave it at that, okay?

In all sincerity, I’m going to miss him. I really thought this one was a keeper. I thought he’d be able to resist the urges, the compulsion. Silly, weak mortals.

It’s a pity. Things were going great for almost a year. A year! Instead of blaming me this time, I say that we blame it on Valentine’s Day.

Passionate Hearts & Sexy Scribbles

January was a blur of excitement and I’m shickled titless to share two tidbits of uberniftiness with you.

First – A Hot New Release!

Just in time for Valentine’s Day, the Passionate Ink chapter of the Romance Writers of America has a hot new book out called Passionate Hearts: A collection of Erotic Romance.

Guess who has a story in there? Yes, really. I want you to guess.

No, not her.

No, not him either. Guess again.

Yup. I do! I have a naughty little tale in this steamy anthology. It is called Fluidity.

“Cool title. What’s it about?” you ask?

Well, I’ll give you a hint.

Fluidity is a gallery that draws an audience with very specific tastes. The management caters to those preferences with an ever-revolving selection of art offerings exclusively for those with a refined appetite for the heightened pleasures that flow like sweet honey – thrilling, expensive and utterly intoxicating. Tonight’s Valentine’s Day theme is Living Art for Lovers.

Want more details? Buy the book!

But, wait. There’s more!

From dancers at a masquerade ball to Olympic ski medalists to bakers to lovers from out of this world, there is something for every romantic to savor in this sexy collection! Erotic adventures include:

The Crazy Chick from Valentine’s Day by Cameron Allie
The Huntress and the Hawk: A Masquerade Club Story by Kim Allred
Lower: The Real Fling #1.5 by Lyla Bellatas
Flame’s Burning Valentine by Trinity Blacio
Accidental Cupid by M. Jane Colette
A Jinx, a Journal, and a Juliette by Jane Colt
Just Friends by Cynthia W. Gentry
Fluidity by Moxie Malone <—This is mine!
The Masquerade by Katherine McLellan
Forever Valentine by Kathleen Samuels
Valentine Cookie Magic by Cadence Vonn

All profits from sales will benefit the American Heart Association and ProLiteracy. So, click a link to get your copy.

AVAILABLE ON AMAZON:
USA: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07MMKM1NM/
CANADA: https://www.amazon.ca/gp/product/B07MMKM1NM/
UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B07MMKM1NM/
AUSTRALIA: https://www.amazon.com.au/gp/product/B07MMKM1NM/

Also, I’m a finalist in the Sexy Scribbles contest for my entry of The Call. It’s a story about…oddly enough…a phone call. More details about that story can be found on this site on the “Coming Soon” tab. Feel free to click it right after you click the Amazon link to get your copy of the Passionate Hearts anthology.