Tag Archives: friends

Post 1,000 Woo-Hoo

Here it is! The 1000th post on my blog.

Seems like it should be more impressive than that, doesn’t it? Hm. Well, I can’t exactly give y’all fireworks and mostly naked men dancing around, but I do have a giveaway scheduled.

First though, let me just say that it’s been a wild ride. Blogging isn’t all that easy when you’ve been doing it a while because you don’t want to start regurgitating posts. Which I think I’ve done a few times. I’ve blogged about writing, getting through the rejection process, getting an agent and losing an agent. I’ve blogged about sexy men. Lots and lots of sexy men. I’ve even interviewed several of them. By the way those were some of my most visited posts. I also blogged about life in south Louisiana, shared some Cajun French with y’all. That’s the set of second most viewed posts. Yup, seems everyone is curious about how to pronounce things or what have you.

Secondly, I have the best friends ever. The writing community is amazing. Simply amazing. I’ve met a lot of wonderful people on my road to publication, through the rocky pass of being a published writer and everything in between. If you ever embark on this same wild ride, be sure to surround yourself with people who will tell you like it is, but do it with their shoulder and a bottle of booze handy, who won’t run you down to make themselves feel better, and who’ll understand what you mean when you start talking about the voices in your head talking to you while you’re taking a shower and not think you’re insane.

So saying all that…here’s the giveaway. I have several of these awesome people offering up prizes. Be sure to enter and tell your friends.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

And because it’s What’s Playing Wednesday…I just gotta share this song with y’all. Because it says everything. Let’s get this party started!

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Monday, Why Oh Why

I woke up this morning thinking…it really should be Sunday. Because there’s no way I’m ready for Monday to be here already. Not just because it’s the start of the work week, but because I’m still not ready for RomantiCon.

Okay that’s a lie. I’m mostly ready. I have everything I plan to wear put to the side waiting to go into the suitcase. I’m waiting to make absolutely sure I don’t change my mind before putting them in the vacuum packs and sealing them. By the way, if you travel and don’t want to lug around ten bags, those vacuum packs are lifesavers. I can fit my whole wardrobe in them. I’m hoping I can fit everything in one bag this year. With the still iffy shoulder, I don’t want to have to drag two big suitcases through the parking garage *shudder*

The rest of the weekend went well. I got my hair done on Saturday and then ended up shopping with my sister. She’s the worst sort of influence on me. Was it really necessary for me to buy another pair of shoes? Forget that the soles are made of memory foam and therefore are guaranteed to be comfy at the conference, did I really need another pair? Honestly! By the time I got home that afternoon, I was numb with fatigue and passed out for a couple of hours.

Did I feel guilty about that? Not really. Just like I didn’t feel guilty for watching football all day yesterday. All. Day. Why? Because on Friday evening, I wrote “The End” on “Touched By Lightning” (Working title) and sent it to my critique partners. And it’s probably a damn good thing I was book free this weekend. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy my nephew or realized that he’s the good luck guy for Saints games. When Bennett was at my house, we were kicking it. When he left, we weren’t. So my brother brought him back. And we won.

Yup, good luck guy.

So that’s my weekend. I’ll be mostly quiet this week because of the conference but I promise I’ll have plenty of stories to share when I get back!

How was your weekend?

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Um Yeah

I hope everyone has had a good week. I’m still trying to get back in the swing of things here at the evil day job. It would help if I could sleep through the night without waking up at least twice. But we all have our crosses to bear. This weekend though….Oh this weekend isn’t as innocent as last weekend. There’s no trivia night in sight. Nope. Seems that A.M. Griffin is going to be in town which means we’re going to go buck. Wild. In New Orleans.

I’ve warned Lea Barrymire she might get a phone call at some point asking for her to hit up the Cabal funds to bail us out of jail. I’ve even warned my sister she might get a call but she told me I was on my own since I wouldn’t let her stalk Peyton Manning. Whatever. Anyway, we’re going to be tearing it up in the Quarter this weekend. Just not too much I hope. I am still recovering from surgery. If we hit a strip club I can only wave my dollar bill with my left hand. Darn it.

But we’re not at the weekend yet. And it’s a three-day weekend at that which means most people are going to be kicking back chillin’ or sleeping as much as possible (the way I want to) or barbecuing and stuff. And you need inspiration to get down to your groovin’ or grilling or even your sleepin’. Which is why we’re have Freaky on Fridays.

Yup, it’s another chance for me to play DJ (and if you have songs you want to feature, let me know and I’ll add them to my list) and share songs that will kick off your weekend. Sexy songs, party songs, anything that I feel is a good way to start off your Friday night fun. I’ll also be including once a month guest posts. I’m working on getting my guests lined up now and hope to start that in September. It’ll be fun!

So…I’ll admit I changed my mind about what song I was going to play because I just heard it in the car and this song took me back to a time when I was sitting in a theater watching Channing Tatum hump a stage. It was the first time I ever found myself jealous of an inanimate object. I’ll also admit I only went to see Magic Mike for Matthew McConaughey and Joe Manganiello. Until I saw Channing Tatum perform to this song. Is it superficial? Yes. But as Lea told me, at least I’m honest. Because holy snikey, but this song puts me in the mood. Like Pavlov’s dog, I associate it with uber sexiness.

Happy Friday y’all. Have a safe weekend and sit back, let this song work on your mind…and if you’ve seen Magic Mike…picture Channing Tatum dancing on you like a good bad boy. *sigh*

 

 

 

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Private Mountain

I had a decent weekend. I didn’t get a lick of anything written. Sure, I did revise and add to what I already have on my WIP, but two hundred words did not impress me. I need to kick it into high gear and stop letting myself get distracted by messed up toes, curly-haired nephews, fat cats and studly men. And food.

Really. This is what has been distracting me lately.

I could have worked on my stuff last night, but after a day spent slow-cooking white beans (which kicked serious ass, y’all) and smothered cabbage, I was done. I watched a little football, except not a single team I wanted to win, won. It was disgusting so I gave up on that. I watched my youngest nephew on Saturday afternoon, trying to coax him into eating something and finally got him to chow on a banana. I went to my oldest nephew’s house on Sunday afternoon and did this whole jaw-dropping thing. It’s so nice. The kitchen is…well, I don’t really cook despite my recent spurt of domestic goddess-ness, but that kitchen could make me want to cook. *drool*

But that has nothing to do with the title of this blog post. Nothing at all.

When I got home from my nephew’s house, I took a pain killer and plopped on the sofa to watch Island Hunters. It seemed a natural progression for me to go from House Hunters and House Hunters International to people buying islands. I didn’t know you could just buy an island if you had the money for it. I watched these people wander around sandy beaches with tropical…things on the trees and realized these people aren’t buying islands just for privacy or in preparation for the zombiepocalypse. They’re buying it because when you can throw a million dollars down on your own island…well, that says something about you.

So I posted on Facebook that I was going to buy an island when I made my millions. I forgot the people who follow me are wonderfully creative people. It didn’t take much for someone to talk me into buying a mountain instead. In Costa Rica. I’m more than happy to buy it as long as burly, sexy mountain men are included. Someone in the Cabal recommended we cash in all the bail money we’ve been pooling together (in case one of us ends up in the tank) because we won’t need it there. Hello? We’d be our own law. I get to be sheriff. But I put my foot down. We’re not having a brothel. We won’t need it since it will be a Cabal only retreat. (and I don’t share very well)

The idea has merit. Maybe not owing mountain men, but a writing retreat sounds wonderful. It has to be a place where writer friends can get together and hash out plot points. I know myself and I wouldn’t write with people around me. I like to talk too much for that. However, hanging out with other writers, bouncing ideas off them, laughing and sobbing over the publishing industry sounds wonderful.

Maybe that’s something I can aim for in my dotage. A writers retreat deep in the swamps (because despite my dislike of beaches, I’m afraid of heights more). What do y’all think? What kind of writers retreat would you like?

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2012 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

19,000 people fit into the new Barclays Center to see Jay-Z perform. This blog was viewed about 63,000 times in 2012. If it were a concert at the Barclays Center, it would take about 3 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

Isn’t that cool? I had more views than Jay-Z did at a single concert! Okay, that doesn’t sound as impressive as I thought it would.

2012 was a good and bad year in many ways. In February, my agent and I parted ways after having difficulties selling Immortal Love. She did her absolute best, but New York wasn’t looking for sassy half-immortals.

From February to June, I went on a book writing binge, submitting Immortal Love to Evernight Publishing as well as a short story for their Keyboards and Kink Anthology. I sold You Bet Your Banshee to Siren and got bumped up to a hotter book level because of my stripping banshee. I wrote Primal Song in February, attended the Silken Sands Conference in March, got a request for work from Grace Bradley with Ellora’s Cave and had a sign contract by June.

Thus began my strange induction into the wild, erotic world of Ellora’s Cave. After Primal Song came out in August (amidst several trips to the hospital because of kidney stones for me), Primal Design came out in September and football season really kicked off. I’ve figured out (after three years of being a “serious” writer) that I can’t write during football season. I’m too engrossed in the games to pay attention. So I have to write a lot during the off-season.

I attended RomantiCon in October and had more fun than I ever have at any conference, no offense to anyone or their wonderful conferences. But there were half-naked cover models at this conferences and half-naked, muscular men trump everything else except for completely naked, muscular men. Just sayin’.

It was at this conference that I met some very interesting people. I went to the Pro Football Hall of Fame with Christine d’Abo, met Frances Stockton, Cara McKenna, J.K. Coi, had my hand on Caveman Nick’s rock hard ass, hooked my fingers in Caveman Georgio’s pants, got spanked by Caveman Georgio and spent several days cleaning up drool.

This is also where I met Lea Barrymire, A.M. Griffin, Cara Carnes, Piper Trace, Sasha Devlin, Cassandra Carr, Sky Robinson and Cristal Ryder. We spent a lot of time together, laughing (in my case dancing until I hurt), talking about spoofing erotic romance and later, we’d start the Cabal of Hotness. By the way, we’re kicking off our formal introduction to the world today. You should stop by to find out what you can about us before we take everything over starting January 2. Hint, we’re holding a giveaway in January.

I’ve met a lot of people in my writing career, some of them soul mates from the moment I speak with them, some of them frightened me (I’m not going to talk about her but she held me captive at my very first conference telling me about her soon-to-be-written eight book series), but for the most part, the people I’ve met in 2012 have helped push me to push my limits.

Sure, I’ve discovered I have a very dirty mouth. Orbitz would love me. But I’m okay with that. I enjoy what I write. I enjoy the person I’ve grown into. 2012 saw me becoming more confident in myself as a woman, as a writer and as a human being. I’m not quite as intense that I’ll start carrying a razor blade in my cheek to “cut a bitch”, but I’m not far from being Honey Badger bad ass either.

So here’s hoping 2013 will bring even more changes. And more sales for everyone. And more happiness in this world because God knows we need it.

Now, be careful out there, my pretties and Happy New Year!

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Randomness

First off, I nearly overslept this morning. I could blame it on nyquil because I took a dose before bed last night, but that stuff sort of wears off after four hours. No, the blame for me waking up too late to work out or even have a cup of coffee this morning goes to my characters.

It all started innocently enough. Sort of. I was waffling on a story. Okay, I was waffling on several stories and it occurred to me that others in my group—yeah, that group, The Cabal of Hotness—were suffering from the same inability to write. One night, after being frustrated by my characters yet again and hearing of another author’s problems getting the story out, I decided we needed to make a pact. And so we did. We’ve all vowed to complete and submit a story to a publisher by December 31, 2012. Failing to meet this deadline means at RomantiCon 2013, you’d have to buy the cabal drinks. The motivation here is money because some of us are lushes *cough “not me”*. If we meet this date we get to toast ourselves and pat ourselves on the backs for a job well done.

This brings me back to my original point. Seeing as how I don’t want to have to buy drinks for everyone, even though I’ll probably get toasted and start playing Lady Bountiful and buy drinks anyway, I realized I needed to get off my ass and write a friggin’ book. I have so many stories started, so many characters who don’t want to friggin’ cooperate with me, I’ve been pulling my hair out trying to decide which one needs to be the “one”. Writing on more than one wasn’t getting me anywhere, so I closed my eyes and picked one and that’s what I’ve been working on slowly. Very slowly.

I was supposed to write six thousand words yesterday, but only managed about 2500 before I got distracted by Duck Dynasty. But I have been trying to figure out where the first “real” sex scene because that’s what I dreamed about in my nyquil haze. Sex, sex, and more sex between my hero and heroine. In a gym, positions I’m still trying to figure out, you name it, they were doing it. Is it any wonder I woke up all bleary-eyed and exhausted?

So yeah, I’ll be writing lots and lots of sex it seems. I figure I can probably eek 15k in sex scenes which will put my story in the novella category. Throw in the conflict, the dark moment and the happy ever after and I can probably push this story to 38k, possibly 40k. Now, if I can do all of that, edit it, send it off to CPs and revise it one more time before sending it off on December 31st, I’ll be good.

*crosses her fingers*

What did you dream about last night? Oh! A few quick announcements to make. Don’t miss today’s edition of Demystifying the Male over at Lea Barrymire’s blog. And if you have any questions you’ve always wanted to ask a man but were afraid to, be sure to let her know so she can pass it along. Also, tomorrow I have the sexy and fun Taylor Cole on the blog talking about nearly anything I could think to ask him. It’s a great interview so be sure to stop by.

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The Weekend Wrapup

So did everyone have fun learning more about the sharp-tongued Justin Alan Whitfield on Friday? I know I had a blast reading his responses to y’all questions. I hope you’re gearing up for this week because he’s stopping by again, this time to talk about his and Taylor Cole’s book, Take It Off! The Naked Truth About Male Strippers. I asked them some questions I’m sure would leave me blushing if inquiring minds really didn’t want to know. Be sure to stop by to learn more about the book and the naked truth about male strippers.

Other than Justin’s very funny visit on Friday, the weekend was kind of tame. I got my hair did, went shopping with my sister and I swear, I only ever spend money when I’m with her. It’s as though her very presence encourages me to open my wallet. I ended up buying a blender (which I did need, by the way), makeup (OMG, Urban Decay. Yay!) and a wicked cool, blue fingernail polish…and other stuff.

These are not my fingers. I have a crooked middle finger from having it broken years ago. Just thought I’d mention that. But this is the color I have.

I also had a hell of a time chatting with the Cabal of Hotness. Have I mentioned them? They’re a group of writers I met at RomantiCon, or afterwards, who somehow became like sisters from many other misters to me. We’re A.M. Griffin, Anya Richards, Amy Ruttan, Cristal Ryder, Cassandra Carr, Cara Carnes, Lea Barrymire, Piper Trace, Sasha Devlin, and Sky Robinson. They’re hysterical and they leave me in hysterics. I’ve tried to share some of their witty conversations with others and get a puzzled, slightly pitying expression in return. *mutters* Meh.

And then there was the time change. Did anyone else feel as though they were running late for work today because the sun was shining? I did. I drove faster because I kept thinking I’d miss the whistle and arrived ten minute early. Oops. It’ll take some time to get used to the change and by the time I’m settled in a routine, they’ll go and screw it up again. Mais!

So…was that everything this weekend? I think so. Watched Sergeant York, probably my absolute favorite war movie behind Kelly’s Heroes, watched a little football, brainstormed book three of the Cajun Heat series and slept. Oh, wonderous naps, how I love thee!

What did you do this weekend? I have no doubt it was more exciting than what I did.

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