I’m bleary-eyed this morning. Went to help dd with algebra homework last night, then had to get critiques prepared to distribute to the Rose’s Colored Glasses critiquers. Didn’t hit the pillow until 2:30 AM. Grrrr…need coffeeez. Sound zombie-ish enough?

If your life were literally flashing before your eyes, what are three moments or scenes from your past that you would expect to stand out?

My answers will be in the comments.

So, she’s a day late. That’s actually my fault because she sent me her posting late Tuesday night, but I rolled out of bed, didn’t check my email and assumed she’d forgotten all about me. It’s funny that the topic of yesterday’s post had to do with the two miniature books I picked up in the bookstore with her… ~DD

“All the women I know feel a little like outlaws.” ~ Marilyn French

I’m not going to promote any of my stories, upcoming or past, in this guest spot. Uh uh. Nope. I’m gonna talk about something else. That quote is from a little book called The Goddess Within, and it’s full of quotes from women about life, love and happiness. I love that little book. It sits by my desktop computer and I flip through the pages often. When Delilah came up here for out roadtrip a couple weeks back, she saw it, and immediately wanted one. I almost gave her mine, because I’ve had it forever and have read through it over a dozen times, but I couldn’t bring myself to offer it up. Instead, we traipsed to the bookstore and I prayed that we’d find one for her, because I knew if we didn’t, I would give her mine. It’s a great book, and Delilah would appreciate it because she’s a great woman. She’s also a bit of an outlaw.

I know, I know, I didn’t need to tell you guys that. I mean, this is her blog so I’m sure you’ve seen that aspect of her a time or two, right?

Everyone knows that any business has it’s ups and downs, and by the time we’re adults most of us have learned that friendships are that way too. And that not everyone who pretends to be your friend is indeed your friend. Well, surprise surprise, writing is no different. In some ways it’s even worse because most of your writing friends are online, and you don’t get to have the in-person contact that often. Also because us creative types can be pretty intense about some things. Well, I know *I* can be intense, and a bit mercurial at times. Anyway… I’d planned to blog about our roadtrip, and share some things that happened. (Did y’all know that Delilah is oblivious to her surroundings most of the time? I mean, we passed some old hippies on Harleys on the highway and she didn’t see them, which was forgivable. But when we passed the hot hot guy standing at the rest stop next to his shiny Harley—dressed in faded jeans and fabulous black leather chaps that cupped his firm round ass—and she didn’t notice him. I was shocked. )

Anyway, back to what I was saying. I’ve had a ‘down’ period in my writing career the past couple years. It was deliberate. I wrote too much too fast and burned myself out to the point that I thought I might never want to write again. Let me just say that very few of my writing friends stuck with me once I took that break from writing. And the one thing all of those that did stick with me have in common? They all have outlaw attitudes. They believe in following their own path, and doing things their own way… and they accepted that my way was to take a few steps back before going any further. They’d still be my friends even if I did decide to never write again (which isn’t what I decided by the way). My friends would still be my friends because they know sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do—even if what you gotta do is a bit crazy. Make sense?

So, when I saw the above quote this morning I though of my friends Vivi Anna and Delilah. And this shot I took of them when we were having lunch in Calgary a couple weeks ago. I wish fellow Canadian author and friend Cathryn Fox could’ve been there too, but she’s way over on the east coast. Maybe next year Delilah and I will do a roadtrip that way. Maybe Vivi will want to join us.

Look out, world, here we come!!!

Where to find Sasha: Her Website and the Genreality blog!

The winner of Tueday’s contest is…Ilona! Ilona, be sure to email me privately to arrange delivery of your prize!

Be sure to post today for a second chance to win yesterday’s prize! I’ll announce the winner tomorrow!

I was supposed to have a guest blogger here today, but she forgot to mail me stuff. So here I am—wondering what I should do with today’s posting. I could talk about the pool, talk about my dogs, my new dragons, slap another excerpt up here, but I do like to change things up a bit so that you (AND I) don’t get terribly bored.

While I was in Canada, Sasha and I hit a bookstore. I know, so cliché, right? Anyway, we were looking at those mini-books in the racks at the front. You know the ones that are usually dedicated to Mom, to Irish limericks, to living the bountiful life.

Well, I found a couple of little books that I think I can have fun with here if I use them as topics to start a conversation. The one I’m looking at this morning is The Woman’s Book of Simple Delights. It has suggestions like:

* Wear your absolute greatest pair of shoes even if they are out of season
OR
* Dress up and try on expensive jewelry at Tiffany’s

I thought we might have some fun sharing some of our own Simple Delights. So here go a couple of my special things I like to do:

* I don’t dress up, but I go to my local jewelers. They know me by name now. I like to try on everything in the store, and usually have at least one nice item on lay-away.
OR
* I go for a morning swim when the air is cooler than the temperature of the pool. Very refreshing and sensual. The perfect way to start my day.

So how about you? What are your simple pleasures. Hmmm…if we came up with enough, we could write our own little miniature book of Simple Delights!

If you post a comment today and you’ll be in the running
for a free download of this book!

I have a new book coming out with Samhain on September 7th—another Lone Star Lovers book. Just thought I’d mention that. 🙂

Here’s another Samhain story that you can order right this minute. Don’t you love gargoyles?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“…STONE’S EMBRACE is a wonderfully descriptive story…The mix of Greek mythology with Christian elements is intriguing and adds to the subtle layering of eroticism and exoticism…this story is fantastic and a super-hot read!”
5 Angels, Fallen Angels Reviews on STONE’S EMBRACE

“…The sex in the book was off the charts hot!…It was a wonderfully different story with a strong characters and a fun plot that left this reviewer breathless!”
5 Stars, Just Erotic Romances on STONE’S EMBRACE

Lust trapped them in darkness…only love can free them…

Petra Pedersen has lived as a recluse all her life thanks to a genetic double whammy—a strange deformity and a shameful power inherited from the father she will never know. The power to incite lust in men and women with just a touch.

Exploring the garden of the mansion she’s just inherited, she comes across a fascinating stone gargoyle whose raw, passionate expression draws her to caress its broad chest. Her imagination follows her fluttering fingers. As she closes her eyes and gives herself up to the arousal, something shifts beneath her touch.

Long ago, failure to stop a demon battle trapped Octavius in a prison of stone. Freed by the woman’s incendiary touch, he doesn’t hesitate to unleash his pent-up rage and desire in a blistering fury. Yet once the haze of lust clears, he discovers he isn’t really free after all.

They are both trapped in another realm where he must choose between his last chance for redemption or returning Petra home…

Warning: Sex with inanimate objects, lusty m/m/f ménages with gods…it’s all good when the reward is freedom.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Louisiana 1909

Octavius rammed his shoulder against the heavy oak door. The lock and hinges gave and the door crashed backward with a satisfying thud, raising dust that sifted through the air like silver-gilt fireflies in the moonlight. Wary, he stepped across the threshold. Inside, the house was dark, the air thick—too heavy to be natural.

He knew, without reeling in the psychic tether that kept him chained to the Grigori, that Bacclum was here. That the bastard had found the demon. He prayed he wasn’t too late to save Bacclum from his own insatiable lust for power. The consequences of his failure would mean his own end.

He should have known that Bacclum planned mischief that night. The mixed-blood angel had been too eager to see Octavius take a rare walk among humans, encouraging him to attend a masked ball at a wealthy residence inside the French Quarter.

While Octavius had enjoyed the rare opportunity to mingle among sweet-smelling women, secretly laughing as he pretended a lever inside his vest controlled the movement of his wings and thrilling to the many strokes of soft hands along his ribbed folds, Bacclum had snuck away. But not before he’d assured himself that his watcher’s vigilance had been dulled by the herbs stirred into his drink. If Octavius hadn’t noted the uneasy glances of the sloe-eyed woman who’d gulled him, he might have drunk the full measure. As it was, his head still swam and his loins throbbed with unabated lust.

The sound of crashing furniture and the low rumble of a masculine voice drew him up the staircase and down a hallway toward the sliver of golden light, fanning outward from a partially opened doorway. Sliding his back close to the wall, he gently pushed open the door and peered around the corner into a room lined with shelves of books.

Bacclum’s dark head was bent toward his chest, his thighs braced around the demon, his hands wrapped around a straining throat.

I’m not too late, thank the gods. “Let go, Bacclum!” Octavius growled as he stalked toward the Grigori steadily strangling the demon he clasped.

“Not until he gives me what I want.” Bacclum grunted, his face screwing into a fierce grimace. “I want all of it.”

Octavius stepped deeper into the library then felt a slight, telltale rumbling beneath his feet.

Bacclum seemed unaware of the heightening danger, so intent was he on murdering the demon and claiming his power for his own.

Octavius cursed beneath his breath. He should have suspected what Bacclum had intended when he’d entered this demon’s realm. The angel’s thirst for power was unquenchable. The council had warned Octavius long ago of Bacclum’s unrelenting quest, but he’d believed the core of the creature squeezing the life force from the demon was good and honorable. He’d believed that Bacclum understood the uneasy balance that had to be maintained between the forces of light and darkness. In the end, he’d misjudged him, underestimating his need for vengeance. Now it was up to him alone to set this right.

Octavius folded his wings forward, scraping the leathery tips against Bacclum’s slick, hot skin, intending to wrap his wings around Bacclum’s face and smother him into unconsciousness. The rumbling increased, fed by the faint chanting echoing inside his head. The demon was far from vanquished.

“Let go, Bacclum,” he roared, leaning closer to pull Bacclum back, but something lashed around his own wrists. Invisible bonds tightened then jerked him off his feet.

He landed on the floor on his knees and growled. The air around them grew dank and humid like a demon’s breath, and the voice chanting in an ancient tongue inside his head grew louder and stronger.

The house shivered violently. The wood flooring creaked. Windows rattled then shattered. Glass shards, like silvery projectiles, peppered his wings and back and shredded his clothing, drawing blood from hundreds of cuts.

Bacclum’s head jerked back and canted to the side. At last, he’d caught the chanting voice and had to know he’d awakened the demon’s inner fire.

The breeze sweeping through the shattered window intensified and swirled around the room, tightening into a devil wind that picked up more slivers of glass and jagged bits of shattered furniture that pinged against the paneled walls but sank into tender flesh.

Octavius’s chest, back and wings were flayed, scraped raw. He reared back, fighting the phantom manacles holding him. Suddenly he was wrenched from the ground and held still inside the fulcrum of the whirlwind.

With only a moment to suck in a deep breath, he was flung forward, forced to ride the arc of an invisible whip, then shot backward like a cannonball through the gaping window onto fragrant grass.

Frogs croaked. Crickets chirped. Moonlight silvered the damp grass. He shook his head clear and ripped off the ragged clothing hanging from the belt at his waist.

Freed at last, he knelt, breathing deeply and gathering strength. He flared his wings and dug his knuckles into the turf. He pushed upward—but his feet never left the ground. His wings never caught the wind beneath their leathery folds.

Frozen, first by horror, then irreversibly by magic, he could only stand there, his terrified gaze watching as his body was slowly consumed, inch by inch, by stone.

Before I got on the plane to Canada, I added music to my iPod. Sasha and I have very different tastes in music, except for songs she calls “Cock Rock”—music to you-know-what by. And I knew I’d want something of my own to plug in because we’d be stuck in a car for hours and hours and there’s only so much Nickelback I stand. 🙂

My last minute adds were:
Indestructible by Disturbed
Hard to See by Five Finger Death Punch
I Stand Alone by Godsmack
Be OK by Ingrid Michaelson (sometimes I just need a bubbly voice)

During our first day’s drive, Sasha stuck a CD in the player that she’d made from her iPod downloads of her latest “Cock Rock” adds. There were several I hadn’t heard before, and I loved them. They are of course completely inappropriate to play in public, but that’s why I dig them. So first time we stopped for the night, I had to add them too:

Addicted by Saving Abel
Use Me by Hinder
Satisfied by Social Code

And because iTunes recommended it on the same page, I tried Dead Memories by Slipknot and added it immediately. It’s my new favorite song.

What have you been listening to lately? Dont’ be ashamed to say Sinatra (I have him on vinyl) or Nickelback (I have two songs of theirs on my iPod that I can tolerate).

This posting is like three Sundays of reports because I’ve been gone so long.

What I accomplished while I was away:
* I completed True Heart, a western novella.
* I brainstormed a new project with a new writing partner.
* I completed copyedits for Four Sworn, which BTW, releases on September 7th!

Good news since the last report?
* I sold my anthology concept for Girls Who Bite to Cleis Press!
* A Long Howl Goodnight was accepted for publication by Ellora’s Cave!
* The Red Stilletos anthology released!
* I published Textile Free on Smashwords!

I’ve only got a little over a week left in the month and have to ramp up. This next week, I want to be four chapters into the next Lone Star Lovers book and be through chapter four of the Viking book (that book’s deadline is creeping up on me!). I also hope to finish chapter four of the next Cat Tails installement.

Be looking this week for pics from my trip to Canada and Kent, WA!

And one little note on the side, Un, Deux, Trois, Menage! is on Amazon now, but needs reviews! So if you’ve read it, please make sure you leave a comment!

I’m heading out on the road early today. I have my monthly Diamond State Romance Authors meeting, and sis (Elle James) is coming down from northern Arkansas for it. Can’t miss that!

While I’m away from my desk, I have a question for you to ponder…

Almost everyone can recall a missed photo opportunity because he/she didn’t have a camera. What moment above all others do you wish you could have caught on film?