Some places I've been in the past few weeks...you see, I've got your back when you want to find me...um...yeah that does sound kinda weird doesn't it? *shrugs and giggles* Funny...weird works for me. *big smiles*
Here I'm doing a great interview hosted by my special yin, Jade...
The days are 25 hours. You spend that extra hour in the garden or in the kitchen?
Well it's been a long time since I've done anything in a garden...you know the dirt gets into places that...what? *leans closer to Jade* Oh...again not what you meant? Well in that case I'm reading about what I shouldn't be doing in the garden or kitchen.
Wanna read more? Gotta click on over! hehe...and BONUS!!!! If you leave a comment you are in the running to win one of my e-books for free...so click on over and leave a comment...good luck! *hugs*
*eyes go wide* Another interview of mine...um...yeah no one needs to know this much about me—but I kinda like talking so...lmao...yeah :)
Where did you come up with the idea for your freaky flash?
Ideas are fickle, they come to you when they want to...not when you want them to. Let's just say I have a LOT of voices in my head and every once in a while one of them will out scream the rest...and their story becomes the next one with those two fabulous words The End on it.
Ah ah ah...that is just a teaser...you know what to do if you wanna read the whole interview...*winks*
What a freaking GREAT 4.5 star review Macky gave Wicked Incarceration! I mean hot diggity dog I'm chair dancing like no one's business...thank goodness no one is exactly who pays attention to me at work...hehe
"...Another brilliant addition to my favourite series Pulp Friction that in my opinion just seems to get better and better as it goes along. Love it!
Wick is snarky, annoying, in your face and full of it, but you can't help loving the guy...."
Click on over to read the whole thing...I really appreciate this review and absolutely adore writing Wick's series!
So you see...I've been a little busy lately...let's hope I have even more to update you on next week! Oh...including the winner of any one of my e-books...don't forget to enter that contest! *big smiles*
So, I've been working through some stuff—nothing major, mind you...just regular day by day trials and errors. They just seem bigger and badder when they happen to you, right? When they are yours to triumph over...the "over" seems tall and wide...*sighs*
But then I stumbled across this cute little story—one that vaguely rings a bell in my mind, I'm sure I've read it somewhere before. I researched it and can't seem to find the author, but it is all over the place and I just wanted to share it with you. Maybe someone hasn't read it and would like to...maybe someone forgot it—like me—and the reminder is exactly what they need...or maybe someone would just like to sit down with their cup of coffee and read it again.
I wish I knew who the author was...
but this sure does help me enjoy my coffee more...*winks*
Grandmother says... Carrots, Eggs, or Coffee; "Which are you?" A young woman went to her grandmother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved a new one arose. Her grandmother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water. In the first, she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs and the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil without saying a word.
In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her granddaughter, she asked, "Tell me what do you see?"
"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.
She brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they got soft. She then asked her to take an egg and break it.
After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg.
Finally, she asked her to sip the coffee. The granddaughter smiled, as she tasted its rich aroma. The granddaughter then asked. "What's the point, grandmother?"
Her grandmother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity--boiling water--but each reacted differently.
The carrot went in strong, hard and unrelenting. However after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior. But, after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened.
The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water they had changed the water.
"Which are you?" she asked her granddaughter.
"When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?"
Think of this: Which am I?
Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity, do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?
Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff?
Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and a hardened heart?
Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you.
When the hours are the darkest and trials are their greatest do you elevate to another level?
is something Jennifer Cozel knows very well.
up with a father who hates her, Jennifer suffered through hell. After her
father gets killed in a drunk driving accident with no will, no money, eighteen
year old Jennifer Cozel is left to fend for herself.
She moves to Barley and settles into the mundane existence of small town
waitress she believes she deserves. That is until Sheriff Rone Jennings steps
into her life with a glimpse into a world she so desperately yearns for.
But how do you fix someone that is so horribly broken?
Sheriff Rone Jennings takes one look at Jennifer Cozel and wants her. Something
about her just screams a real woman. But getting to know the voluptuous waitress
is not easy for she is fighting him at every turn. When he finds out about her
past, anger like he never felt before surges through him but what good will
that do? Rone is determined to not only help Jennifer heal, but to make her
see not all love is painful
What day is it?
The rain had long stopped
pounding against the class and the old tree just to the right of her window
hadn’t crashed into the side of the house for a good ten minutes. Still those
thoughts seemed almost trivial to what was happening inside Jennifer Cozel’s mind.
Her heart didn’t care as well for it was too busy pounding inside her chest as
though it wanted to hop out and run away. Another loud bang sounded from
somewhere in the house and she jumped. Her eyes caught the chest behind the
door then lifted to see if the door handle would twist to the right then to the
left. When nothing happened but another loud crash of something hitting the
wall hard, she shifted slightly to alleviate the pain her legs were starting to
send through her.
Jennifer trembled at her
father's footsteps storming through the house. He'd been on one of his binges
again which put him in a mood. Two days of a steady intake of alcohol with no
food always did that to him. Each morning she had to lug the bag of liquor
bottles to the recycle bin at the back of the house once he’d gone off to work
or fallen asleep after a night of hard drinking. Lately, she’d made more than
two trips. How one person could drink so much and still be able to function was
beyond her. The nights when his favorite baseball team lost were the worst and
the mornings after even harder. She learned a long time ago to stay out
of his way when he drank for when he was drunk the really mean side of him came
out—which was all the time. The sad truth was Jennifer couldn’t remember a time
when her father was sober. He drank to wake up, drank to fall asleep and drank
to silence the demons inside his head. She often times heard him yelling at
them when he wasn’t screaming at her. He drank when he was happy, when he was
sad but most importantly, he drank whenever he looked at her then sobbed. As
far as she knew his problem was her fault.
Whenever he was really
hammered, he remembered his dead wife and Jennifer paid for it because he would
break into her room and beat her until she was unconscious. Afterward, he’d
fill a bucket with cold water and toss it in her face. That was a horrid way to
wake anyone up for she’d jerk upright, screaming then clawing at her neck. The
cold water against her body left her gasping for breath.
Jennifer would never get
used to that.
She was on her final
semester in high school and was pretty sure she was going to fail. She'd
been cooped up in her room for three days for her father forbade her to go to
classes. He saw school made her happy. He couldn’t touch her while she
was at school and every fibre of him hated that. When she was at school she was
someone—people knew who she was. After she turned eighteen, the county no
longer required her to go to school. If she missed too many classes no one
would call the house or threaten to call child services. He smirked as he told
her she was no longer to leave the house for school, as a matter of fact—she
must no longer leave the house period. Jennifer was terrified so she listened
and remained hidden in her room.
Whenever she heard the
car leaving, she would peer out her window and watch until the car had long
since gone before tiptoeing out of her room to get something to eat. But she
couldn't take anything he would miss. Luckily she'd stashed a couple of
Jamaican buns with a tin of cheese in her room so all she really needed was
water. As long as she didn’t open the can with the cheese, she could keep it
hidden in her room for as long as she needed. Filling her traveler’s mug with
cold water she drank the whole thing and refilled it. The next thing on her
list was to look around ensuring nothing was moved or out of place before
returning to her bedroom, locked the door and shoved her chest holding her
sheets behind it.
The buns she'd bought
were getting smaller. Jennifer wasn't sure how much longer they would last.
After that she was out of money, out of food and out of luck. Sometimes her
best friend would sneak something over and she would quickly eat it. Gale was
good for Jennifer, but she couldn’t let her father know about Gale. When
she was ten, her father came home to Jennifer sitting in the living room with
another little girl from school. After he pushed the girl out the door
and tossed the books after her, he tied Jennifer to a tree outside until the
next morning. He then cut her loose and left her lying there weak and half
She made a mental note to
see if she could get a couple extra shifts at her school cleaning up after the
girl's rugby team. If she could manage that she should be good for what she
needed for a little bit while she scrounged for more.
Breaking a piece of the
bun off, Jennifer shoved it into her mouth. The sweet of it flooded her senses,
causing her to moan and rest helplessly against the bed. Her eyes caught
the scars on her leg when she stretched them out before her. Swallowing
the lump in her throat, Jennifer used her free hand and tugged her dress down
to cover them. When it didn’t cover her ankles, she curled her legs beneath her
bum and took a breath. Suddenly she wasn't hungry anymore.
In a state of heightened
fear, she sat in the same position until her legs cramped, throbbed then went
numb. Still, she daren't move. The darkness flowed in through the window
and still she didn't move. Her eyes burned and from time to time she forced
herself to blink. Though she yearned for sleep, she couldn't. Every time
her eyes closed she remembered her father then jerked awake. He was
drinking that evening.
She wouldn’t be getting
A loud bang on the front
door pulled her upward. She grabbed the bun she'd still have out, wrapped it up
and shoved it into her bag. She pushed the bag under her bed and pulled the
sheets down over it. Glancing around to ensure nothing was out so he could see
if he broke in. She took a breath and rose. Her legs trembled, weak by
the position they'd been in for such a long time. She slumped forward,
catching herself on the edge of the bed. Shaking her legs, Jennifer tried
working out the numbness. When she finally got some feeling back into her legs,
she had to wiggle them more to get the pins and needles feeling out.
The knock came again.
The fact she'd missed a
car pulling up was scary to her. But she was exhausted. The knock sounded once
more and by this time, Jennifer sucked in enough courage to actually leave her
room. She pulled the chest from before the door, and stuck her head
out. The hallway was spotless, silent. The walls were devoid of
pictures. The halls empty of any kind of fixture except a solitary light bulb
on at the end of the hall on the centre wall.
On the tips of her toes,
she scurried from her room and peered over the balcony before hurrying down the
stairs. She peeked into the scantily furnished room. Marshal wasn't
there. When she got to the front door, she pulled her sleeves down over her
arms, took a breath and pulled the door open.
To her shock and relief
her father wasn't standing there. Instead, two police officers faced her.
"May—may I help
you?" Jennifer asked softly, ensuring not to meet their eyes.
name?" one asked. He gave her a grim smile, one she’d recognize anywhere.
Jennifer was used to sadness.
"Do you know a
Jennifer nodded. She
couldn't speak for the lump in her throat just wouldn't allow the words to come
out. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “He’s my father.”
"I'm afraid we have
some bad news." The other officer spoke up. "Your father was killed a
little earlier in an accident."
Jennifer stood before the
police officers with her arms wrapped around herself. If her father was dead it
was no accident. He was probably too wasted or too hung over to see where he
was going and crashed into a tree.
"Did you hear me
ma'am?" the cop asked. "Your father is dead. He ran a red light and
was struck by a drunk driver going the other way."
Eighteen year old Jennifer
blinked, then nodded. "I heard you. He was drinking.”
“We figured. There was a
bottle of Jack Daniels in the car after they managed to cut him out with the
Jaws of Life.”
“Did anyone else got
hurt?” she whispered.
“Yes. The driver in the
other car but nothing life threatening.”
“What’s good. My father
is always drinking.”A sinking feeling pulsed through her, leaving her feeling
empty. Still she was left with a profound sense of something urgent, something
on the point of breaking inside. "Thank you for informing me
officers," Jennifer squeaked. "Where can I...can I..."
"His body is at the
morgue." One of the cops handed her a card. "You can go here
and identify it."
She wrapped her fingers
around the card and nodded again. They probably thought she was a bloody mute.
"We're really sorry
for your loss."
smiled tightly and backed into the house and closed the door.
The Story Orgy has a new anthology coming out with two guest authors and lots of good music!
It was a time of
unprecedented prosperity and incredible disparity, one of astounding scientific
discovery and breathtaking paranoia. The Cold War, the Space Race, the fledgling
rumblings of Civil Rights movements – all of these were part of the consciousness
of the time. Amid all these discoveries and rapid-fire changes, some of the world’s
most exciting and innovative music sprang up.
The 1950’s – when Rock was born.
Join Total E-Bound and a fabulous collection of authors as they appropriate some of these iconic songs for a 50’s Mixed Tape Anthology:
Walkin’ After Midnight by Hank Edwards – Floyd has trouble staying interested in men, but meeting Gavin changes everything. Until Floyd learns his boss is dating Gavin. Now Floyd wants him more.
Chantilly Lace by Em Woods – Shea Laporte is a twenty-four year-old professional twink. He gets his way with a bat of his eyelashes and a swish of his hips. Coffee bars, nightclubs and late, lazy mornings in bed are routine for him. But neighbor Murk Rouse finds out appearances aren't everything...
Rush Around the Clock by Silvia Violet – Finn McMurphy convinces himself his spoiled dogs are all the company he needs. Until he meets his sexy new neighbor, Crawford, and everything changes.
His Dream Lover by Lee Brazil – In a private hospital room, motionless and still beneath a sheet, lies Joseph Caldwell. Anesthesiologist Oliver Gideon is racked with guilt and confusion. Could he have somehow done something wrong?
It’s Only Make Believe by Havan Fellows – Acting out or acting up, Dyer's whole life has been nothing but a game of make believe. When he needs his best friend's gay brother Derrick to help him land the role of a lifetime, the line between fantasy and reality doesn't just blur, it disappears altogether.
The Line by Angel Martinez – Rafael Schiller, vampire and sexual god without peer, believes he’s the top of the food chain, until a bizarre creature feeding in an alley scares the deathless hell out of him.
Come join the party this October for songs that inspired the last fifty years of music and stories that’ll melt your old 45’s!
Well it finally happened...Wicked
Incarceration (Wicked Ways #1) is out and about—and only one day late! *wiggles
and hip bumps to the right*
And OMG it already has a kick assets
review under its belt! I'm all verklempt and whatnot...(and yes...I did spell
that word correctly without the help of my dictionary app *puffs out chest and
struts around* lol)
Thank you to Sid Love's blog
for posting the review and to Macky for reviewing Wicked Incarceration...*big
Macky gave the 3rd book in my PulpFriction series Wicked's Way a 4.5 stars and had this to say...
"Another brilliant addition to
my favourite series Pulp Friction that in my opinion just seems to get better
and better as it goes along. Love it!"
Here is the entire first chapter for
your enjoyment...*winks*...hope you like! :)
Pulp Friction collection – Wicked's
Sometimes the only way for justice to prevail is to get a
Who knew that meant
Wick Templeton would end up on the wrong side of the cell door and looking for
trouble—the kind of trouble that lands inmates on the funny farm and turns
their brains into jelly.
Now he’s calling in
favors and using his prize weapons—his charm and subtle wit—to plant himself
smack dab in the middle of the party. With help from his willing friends and
not-so-willing acquaintances, he plans to rule the cellblock. Criminals, watch
out. Wick's burning, and nobody better get in his way.
Caution: With Wick in jail anything can
happen. A little mild violence and a whole lot of attitude never hurt anyone.
A big hand connected to the middle of Wick's back
and roughly pushed him through the open door and into the narrow cell.
"There you go, Mr. Templeton, penthouse suite
just for you. I hope you get along with the other A-listers bunking in this
block, because they don't play well with people they don't like." The
guard chuckled at his own joke and stepped back so the detective accompanying
him could approach Wick.
Detective Jenkins crowded into the cell, nodding to
the guard in what could only be construed as their "special code" to
take a hike.
Wick figured this should only take a couple of
minutes if he kept his damn mouth shut and just nodded and smiled. Scratch
that, smiling in this situation might not be welcome, people always interpreted
his smiles as being false or condescending or even wicked.
So he schooled his features and leaned against the
back wall, the only solid wall in the six by nine foot rectangular space. The
dick sat on the bed and tilted his head to the open door.
"You want to run right now, don't you?"
Wick shrugged, all decked out in his bad ass mode.
"Wouldn't be the smartest move I could make, now would it?"
"Oh, Wick, you've never been about what was
smart. You just like to bulldoze over everything that doesn't suit you. It's
what got you kicked off the force: your rhinoceros complex."
Okay, no smiling or
snarling. Though Wick
desperately wanted to take this asshole and show him a rhino complex—which
wouldn't be anything like the detective imagined, that Wick guaranteed.
Instead, he behaved. He knew an egging on when he saw one—hell, he invented the
phrase and wouldn't fall prey to a bad imitation of it.
Anyway, this shit had no idea why Wick left the
force. Kicked out? That was a joke in the making.
He twisted his torso and deepened his slouch, then
brought his hand up and nonchalantly picked at the peeling paint on the wall.
"So what are you doing here, Detective Jenkins? You and I both know, no
matter how lax this block of the jail is, detectives visiting prisoners in
their cell isn't the norm."
"I'm just here to make sure you settle in all
nice and cozy and to inform you that your lawyer isn't your hero in this case.
She won't get you off." He stood and stepped the whole foot to get in
Wick's face. His breath smelled of stale cigarettes and onions, what a mixture.
"I finally got your ass. You're behind bars due to your own stupidity. Not
surprising, it was bound to happen. You'll stay behind them thanks to me. No
matter how many hours I have to put in, no matter how exhausted I get in the process…I'll
nail your ass."
Wick widened his eyes in mock surprise. "Well,
that's why they kicked me off the force; I obviously made a lousy detective. I
never knew you craved the finer aspect of my physique." Wick glanced up
and down, lingering very obviously on certain areas of the detective's anatomy,
then finally raised his gaze and smirked. "You know, I've never thought of
you like that before…but…you aren't terribly bad to look at and your body could
do with a little wicked workout. Of course, we'll have to do something about
that stick shoved up your ass, I don't like competition."
Jenkins sneered. "You go ahead and make your
funny jokes. I know you and how you work, but that won't get you shit in here.
You can't charm the inmates or guards. You're not that damn good."
"Why do people keep telling me that? If I hear
it another couple million times, I might get a complex."
Jenkins snorted and crossed the threshold of the
cell, turning back to Wick and resting his wrist on the bars. "The only
reason you survived as long as you did was because of your friends and
connections. You have none of them here and no access to them either." He
turned his head and projected his voice, "Guard! I'm done."
As soon as the guard stepped up, Jenkins started to
walk toward the exit gates. Wick yelled after him, "Next time you come to
visit, wear green. I think it will make your eyes pop."
The guard's massive frame completely blocked the
entrance to the cell. He eyeballed Wick as he pulled out his Nextel and rattled
off some numbers then declared for the door to be closed.
"You seem to make friends real well." His
gruff voice held a hint of amusement to it.
Wick plopped down on the lumpy mattress and
immediately winced when four coils poked through the fabric to abrade his skin.
At least the coils were so poorly made they didn't have much bite to them.
He rested his head on the side by the bars in order
to look up and see the guard, well, an upside down version of the guard.
Tucking his hands behind his head, he winked.
"It's a gift. I'm a real people person."
The guard looked down at him and shook his head
slowly. "Yeah, well watch the people you try that line with in here."
Wick nodded. "Advice received, Randy. Now, I
need the red phone that I was booked with, a secure area to make a phone call,
and a caramel latte with an extra shot of espresso. All within the hour if you
Randy looked up and down the corridor then
whispered, "What about a tall, halfway decent, and extremely hot cup of
plain old coffee, nine cream and sugar?"
Wick curled up his lip then sighed. "Oh,
whatever you can manage."
"Give me twenty or so minutes and I'll have
your stuff for you." The guard nodded once quickly before adding,
"Hey, thanks again for clearing my cousin in that vandalism case. He isn't
a bad kid—"
Wick waved him off. "Yeah I know"—he
mimicked Randy's deep voice—"He isn't a bad kid, just started hanging
around a bad crowd…" Wick looked him in his upside down eyes. "I've
heard it all and I don't give a shit. I helped him for a few very short
reasons; one of them being it's easier to stop him now rather than beating the
hell out of him later. I'll continue to make sure he stays straight, my word is
Randy straightened and nodded one more time.
"Whatever your reasons for being in here, I'm not sure. I personally think
you're a loon of some sort. But my sister stands by you and I stand by family.
So thank you." He disappeared down the corridor.