Thursday, November 5, 2015

Thursday Think Tank: Write Like the Wind and Other Encouragements

Dear Authors Who've helped,
That's you, Jambie, Zam, Patric, Amy, Belinda, Ally, Megan, Aleks, Rhae, Erica, Zathyn, Kris, Val, Caraway, J.p., Carol, Ethan, and a slew of other authors who encouraged me via their literary works or their actual words of encouragement and guidance--thank you all so much. I love what I do, and I love that in some small way I can contribute to making the world a better place, or at least a bearable one. And I do that thanks to all of you. So, nothing profound today. Just a simple note of thanks. For all you've done in the past, and all you continue to do.
~Cherie Noel~

Thursday, October 22, 2015

Thursday Think Tank: A San Diego 2015 Recap--Almost

Oh my. I swear, next year I'm going to do a day by day posting, because I just know I'm going to forget a zillion things!

And URK, my "add pics" function is broken! Oh, boy, that puts quite the damper on the fun.

Urm...I shall have to delay doing justice to this post until the minion comes home from school. I pinky promise, it will be done by Saturday!

Until then, smooches.

Saturday, October 10, 2015

Saturday Special: Victoria Blisse Sending Kisses~A Cover Reveal for Something Brave

“You can call me Sir.” Something Brave Cover Reveal
Victoria Blisse’s newest BDSM novella is available for Pre-order at Totally Bound now. It’s the story of a shy vanilla woman and how she meets the only man she’s ever wanted to submit to. Felicity discovers her kinky side with the help of a Man she only knows as ‘Sir.’

Blushing, hesitant Felicity does something incredibly brave and submits to a man she only knows as Sir, but will his demands push her beyond her limits?

Felicity attends the local burlesque fair just to sell her Quietly Cute jewelry. A handsome stranger offers to spank her, and she surprises herself by submitting. Sir makes her choose the implement he will use to take her spanking virginity—and uses it to great effect.
She finds herself becoming the sexy, self-made billionaire’s sub, who is punished with bondage, forced into exhibitionism, hot wax and other delicious tortures. Felicity submits willingly, becoming braver with every interaction. But when Samuel offers her the means to establish her business and pulls her out of the poverty she lives in, she snaps, seeing it as an insult to her pride and possibly even a payment for her sexual services.
Can Samuel convince her otherwise, or will she walk out of his life forever? 
General Release Date: 17th November 2015

“Oh, I think of you all the time, Felicity. When I’m meant to be concentrating on the figures, one…” She felt an explosion of heat just above her belly button a second after he paused, and she gasped and pulled her stomach in.
“Two.” Another drop landed a little higher, between her ribs, and she felt the two hot impact spots melting together into a river of warmth.
“Well, you get the idea.”
She heard the mirth in his voice. He was enjoying watching her squirm. Another drop of wax splashed between her breasts. The impact burned, and she writhed against her bonds. It wasn’t nice, it wasn’t pleasant, but the warmth and the condensing pull of the cooling wax was strangely sensual. She wanted more as much as she wanted it to stop.
“I think of you over breakfast, whenever I see a pretty item of jewelery, when I look out of my office window, when I touch my desk. I see you there, stretched out and eager for your spanking. I think about you when I pick up my briefcase, when I loosen my tie. All the time, Felicity. You’re always on my mind.”
She heard a rasp, sensed movement beside her. Had he put the candle down?
“I get overwhelmed by thoughts of you all the time.”
Another dribble landed at the top of her left breast and the drop turned into a stream that burned a trail down to just before her nipple. She clenched her teeth, expecting the burning to explode on her sensitive nub, but it didn’t. She relaxed.
“Another confession, Felicity. When I think of you, I get turned on.”

You can Pre-order Something Bravefrom Totally Bound now, Early download will be available on the 20th October exclusively at my publisher’s site and general release is the 17th November.

Victoria Blisse is a mother, wife, Christian, Manchester United fan and award winning erotica author. She is also the editor of several Bigger Briefs collections, and the co-editor of the fabulous Smut Alfresco, Smut in the City and Smut by the Sea Anthologies.
Victoria is also one of the brains behind the fabulous Smut events, days and nights dedicated to erotica, fun and prizes. Check out  for more details.
She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England and her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories.
Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.
You can find often find Victoria procrastinating on Facebook, Twitter  and Pinterest 
To find out more check out

Friday, October 9, 2015

Fabulous Friday: Even when it Rains

I woke to the sound of rain pattering down on the porch roof outside my window. The grey half light that accompanies rainy days here in Tonawanda was not yet at full strength, but the sky was starting to lighten a little around the edges. About half of me wanted--okay, three-quarters of me wanted to roll over and let the soothing patter of water drops on the roof lull me back to sleep. However, there was one excited voice that rose up louder than all the rest...

Do you wanna know what that little voice was stage whispering right in my ear?

"Get up, fool. You only have four days left to get ready for GRL."

Seriously, I get no respect from my inner voices. Heh. But, it did have a point. Today is the Friday before GRL. It's like a big gay Christmas/Pride/Bestest-Sleepover-with-400+Friends.

And that?

Is simply fabulous. So I'm up. I'm writing. And I'm feeling a lot of joy about it. Nothing profound here, folks. Just simple joy. And to celebrate, as well as in honor of my fabulous Kidlet who makes me smile more than I frown, let's kick off this day with a little old school Motown from the Temptations.

Thursday, October 8, 2015

Thursday's Think Tank: Pulling Triumph from Unforseen Adversity

Today's Think Tank post has been brewing in the back of my head for a few weeks. It's seeds are in my admiration for the perseverance and determination of a man many of you know, Eric Arvin, the extremely talented author.

You see, Eric's been through some tough times. And yet he keeps going. It made me think, really think about how the challenges I've faced in the last year or two can be reframed, even turned into opportunities to triumph.

So, I hit my head, *pauses to let everyone get their laughter over with* the summer before last. And my brain hasn't been quite the same since. Now, I could whinge and cry about how hard things are, or I can look at this from a different angle. I write differently now. I have to take more time. I have to double and triple check everything from daily meds to making a list where I can check things off as I go through my days. And while all of that is a bit of a pain in the keister, I've decided to look upon my new normal as an opportunity to be more deliberate in my life.

I'm planning out times to spend with my Kidlet. I'm having to relearn how long it takes me to accomplish tasks, and that's not a bad thing. It lets me look at everything I do with fresh eyes.

Oh, I intended this post to be so much longer, and more profound. But I have commitments to meet, and not enough time in my day to get everything done. So I'll leave you with this thought: I didn't know what I could accomplish in the face of adversity until I got slapped down a few times. No matter what you're going through, try to look at it from the a different angle. You may find that it's more a blessing than a curse if you can achieve that.

Oh, and if you want a sterling example of this, go check out Patrick Rummerfield's website. You'll be amazed.  This quote tops his page: "Every adversity, every failure, every heartache carries with it the seed of an equal or greater benefit." ~Napoleon Hill

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Work in Progress Wednesday: Oh, there's oodles to choose from...

Here's what I'm working on right now. :)
Blurb: On the surface, Jackass Flats seems as common as ticks, tornadoes, or tumbleweeds on the plains of North Texas. But, scratch past the small town charm of Mama Cee's restaurant, or Gear Grinders Garage & Machine Shop, and you'll find a whole mess of interesting goings on. Mix a DEA investigation running off the rails, a Paul Bunyan sized French émigré dealing exotic cars, a long eared, lonely deputy scouting for stuff and nonsense at the infamous local casino, and a bow-chicka-wow-wow romance track playing at full volume, and things get spicy with cayenne, cilantro, and a heartwarming dash of good natured hilarity. 

As Sheriff Drayton Jeepers likes to say whilst stroking the road kill he claims is a toupee, "No one south of the highway lives in their own skin." 

Yeah, we don't know what he means either, but finding out promises to be fun!

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Tuesday Newsday: 6 October 2015

Have I got news for you?
Woo-hoo, yes I do, news, news, news, news, oh yeah, glorious news.

1) The day before yesterday I sent the revised and ridiculously expanded version of Kiss & Tell--Kevin and Tony's story--off to my fabulous editor, Val L. Hughes. *gives a happy sigh* I lurve my editors so verra much.

2) The Super Seekrit Squirrel Project with Rhae Camdyn has finally been revealed. *massive grins*
It's a sweet, naughty, over the top tale of two bunnies-rabbits-jackrabbits-shifters--aw hell, two hot-tas-tic fellas full of fun and shenanigans. Set smack dab in the middle o' nowhere, Texas. *cackles*
And here's a sneaky peaky at the fantabulous art work that Catherine Diar has come up with for us. *points up at the pretty picture*

3) I'm also in the final stretch of two more for another favorite editor, Kris Jacen, and one that will be releasing next week, Nightflyer. And here's the cover for THAT: 

Okie dokie. Enough news for the day. Time to go make some more magic. :)

Monday, October 5, 2015

Monday Mayhem and Foolishness: On the Road to GayRomLit 2015

Eight days and a wake-up. That  is all the time I have before I'll be hanging out with my tribe at GayRomLit 2015-San Diego. Wooooooooooooo! I 'm so very excited. And terrified. Because, reasons. Serious reasons. What?
You want an explanation?
Um...okay. See, I have a ton of things to accomplish between now and then, and the attention span of a gnat. No, really. A freaking gnat. And we're not talking the most focused gnat of the group. Heh.

So, while I'm thrilled that I'll be able to see Carol Lynne, Ethan Day, Jp Bowie, Reese Dante, Teresa Emil, and the rest of the crew at GRL, I'm quaking in my support hose over the idea that I might drop the ball and not pull off all the cool things I have planned for this trip.

Eh, I guess that happens to us all on some level, hmm?

Okay. So, there are things I want to do. I can do this, right? I just need to get organized. More organized. Um, sure. I can do that. Make a list, check it twice, and plan to be both naughty and nice to the characters of my stories releasing that week, as well as all my fellow GRL attendees.
I'll have some giveaways--both during my super-awesome panel with Daniel Kaine and Erica Pike:

Woo-hoo, this is going to be AWESOME-SAUCE.

*que the soundtrack*

Friday, September 18, 2015

Fabulous Friday: Sneaky Peeking!

Ta Da...I'm so pleased with this cover I want to break into song. Or, you know, finish the story and get it rushed through edits so that it can publish on October 12th, a mere two days before the start of 2015's GayRomLit Retreat in sunny San Diego.

Hee hee hee. A fabulous Friday indeed.
And now, some music from our Dj...something with angels like my fellow up there on the cover, hmmm? Thankee kindly, maestro. Enjoy the music, dear readers. I know I will.

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Work In Progress Wednesday: Traumatic Brain Injury, Domestic Violence and Other Dark Matters of the Heart

You might be wondering what TBI has to do with matters of the heart. Well, in my current work in progress, a greatly expanded (over 30k added) and heavily revised 2nd edition of Kiss & Tell, I introduce you to a main character who suffers from Traumatic Brain Injury, or TBI, as the result of an assault.  Tony is an old hand at dealing with devastating acts of domestic violence, having lived through several years of abuse at the hands of an older brother before moving out of one bad situation only to fall into another, arguably worse one.

Like many LGBTQ domestic abuse victims, Tony has little recourse. His support system is negligible, his resources strictly monitored by his abusive partner, and his options for community assistance seem impossible to locate. Until a dedicated nurse throws him a lifeline in the shape of a one page resource access card.

Please, if you know or suspect someone is living in a domestic violence situation and/or has suffered from a head injury, share the resources at the end of this post with them--but remember to do so in a manner that will NOT place them at higher risk for assault/injury.


The unedited version of that lifesaving interaction:

Tony flinched back, head jerking up and gaze darting to the door. Ugh. That tore it. Kevin had never seen that response in a patient who got injured in an accident caused by sheer clumsiness.
Big, beautiful, and seemingly tough Tony Giuliani needed one of Kevin’s LGBT friendly cards more than Lindsay Lohan needed a five year AA/NA chip and a sympathetic director/casting agent. And Kevin was going to make damn sure the big guy took one. Kevin quickly folded the card into thirds.
“See, I even had them made so you can fold them up and fit them in your shoe. In case your friend or you know, whoever, needs to keep the card hidden. It’ll fit right under the lining of your shoe. There’s always a little gap—well, in most shoes—right where the side of the shoe meets the arch. At least in my not nursing shoes.” Kevin laughed and held up his foot to show the crocs he currently wore.
“You can fold up one corner so it makes a little tab. Use that to lift the edge of the—oh, can I borrow your shoe to show you? So you know how to show someone else?” Kevin held his breath as he waited for Tony’s answer.
Tony’s glance ping-ponged from the card to the exam room door. “Uh, sure. I don’t mind.”
Kevin’s pulse thundered in his ears. Every time he passed one of these cards out he thanked himself for having them made up. After he read the cards the hospital passed out to suspected domestic abuse victims the first time, he realized any gay man—scratch that, any man period—in an abusive situation could expect zero help from the places listed on the card. And women in same sex relationships were in almost as bad a spot, because while they might have an easier time finding a shelter, so would their abuser. With a little research, however, he found a couple of shelters that were both gay friendly and willing to forbid entrance to abusive partners regardless of the gender and/or sexual orientation of the parties involved. His card wasn’t perfect, given that it left little recourse for straight men in abusive relationships. He’d had no luck finding shelters for men abused by women. Then again, little in this world was perfect, and at least his cards covered more of the possibilities than those the hospital routinely passed out.

Kevin reached into the side pocket of his scrubs and pulled out another of the LGBT friendly Domestic Abuse cards he’d made up. “Why don’t you try to fold that one up and then see if you can get in into your shoe? That way you’ll know how to show someone else.”

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Tuesday Newsday: All the Stuffs and Nonsense that's fit to Print

Guten Morgen, my dears!
Erm, that's good morning in German.
Dunno why I'm speaking German to you.
It started last night. Eh, I just nod and smile these days, because who the heck knows what my brain is going to get up to when I leave it unattended for hours at a time. I suspect it's been sneaking into memories of my time serving at Budingen Kaserne in Germany.

O.O No, seriously.
I swear the slippery little sucker takes off on holiday while I'm sleeping and I don't always get the notes about where el Brainio has been. Again I say, O.O

Okay, so news, and a few more gratuitous pics of the town of Budingen, where I was stationed with the 69th chemical company from 1998 to 2001.
Erm, the news is exciting. Sort of. Nothing new out yet, but Hey Presto, I've got my mojo back!
Wrote over 4k yesterday, so it looks like the long dry spell is over. With enough rest and a semi-quiet environment I should be able to maintain a 2,500 to 6, 000 word count daily. And that means some exciting times for readers who like my particular brand of madness. Because at this pace, I'll have six stories written by the end of October. Some will be revised and expanded versions of older stories, some will be brand spanking new tales. And that is worthy of a fancy do at the castle in Budingen. Heh.

I've got my party hat on and my happy feet a'dancing...not to mention my fingers tappity-tap-typing in hopes that the finished stories will feel like a party to you as well.

Be Well, Babies. I'll have some yummy new stuffs for you to read soon. I pinky swear.
~Cherie Noel~

Monday, September 14, 2015

Monday's Mayhem and Foolishness: 14 September 2015

 I'm busy, busy, busy as a bee. Writing like mad. Because, deadlines. You know the drill, because EVERYONE has deadlines of one sort or another.

So I'll just leave you with these cute busy bee pics, and a little song by the Blind Melons. Cause that me, that little dancing bee. Heh. Dancing as fast as I can, and paying no mind to to the meanie-butts of the world. You do the same, hmm?
I'm hoping by the end of the day I'll be covered--heh, I mean my manuscript will be covered in as many new words as this little guy is in pollen granules.
*crossing all possible points of crisscrossingness on my body and getting my fingers flying on my trusty laptop's keyboard*

~~Cherie Noel

Friday, September 11, 2015

Fabulous Friday: 11 September 2015

The Teardrop Memorial is a little known memorial to ending world terrorism. Located at the former Military Ocean Terminal in Bayonne NJ, and created by Russian artist, Zurab Tseretel, the sculpture is a moving tribute to the tragedies of September 11, 2001. 

If you'd like to visit the memorial, or simply learn more about it, here's a link to the webpage for the site. TEARDROP MEMORIAL.
Please feel free to share any stories you have concerning 9/11/01 (events of that day, visits to memorials, planned events, questions, thoughts, etc.) in the comment section below.

May you all Be Well,
Cherie Noel

Thursday, September 10, 2015

Thursday Think Tank: What will the privatization of National Geographic mean?

What will it mean for this icon of factual information to come under the control of a conglomerate known for deliberately spreading disinformation? A fantastic article in the Washington Post poses some likely answers. Please read about it HERE, and then come back and share your thoughts. I'm giving away a story to the person with the most thoughtful answer.

~~Cherie Noel~~

Thursday, August 13, 2015

Thursday is for Think Tank: 13 August 2015

Normally Thursday is for Think Tank.
But I'm overwhelmed.
Seven projects to get done in the time it would normally take me to do *mumble, mumble, mumble*
So I'm off to the writing section of Ye Olde Writing Cave.
I'll be back with provocative thoughts about the greater world soon.
Very soon.
I pink-swear.


Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Tuesday Newsday: The News is, there is No News...yet.

Tuesday is for news of writerly stuffs and things which will amaze, astound, or at least entertain you.

We've agreed on this, yes?

The thing is...I wasn't able to keep up with my writing schedule for the first half of 2015.


I fell down on the job, as it were.
So this is me, picking myself up.
You know, fall down eight times, get up nine? It's a good motto. Now I'm working on getting up and getting a whole lotta writing done, so I'm outta here. On my way to make some Newsday stuff and things happen, so I can report them next time Tuesday rolls around. Until then, the news is, there's no news except I'm hard at work. I'll see you sweet babies in a bit, when I hope to have important progress to announce.

Friday, August 7, 2015

Fabulous Friday: 7 August 2015

It's Friday!

All by itself, that's reason enough to feel fabulous...and although I call Fridays, "Fabulous Friday", I really feel that way about every day of the week. 

It's easy to love every day when you're always doing something you love. Also key for me in loving every day is the simple act of getting up and remind myself, every single day, of the many wonderful things there are to see, be, do, and share--with friends, with family, with everyone who is in my life. 

So, here's to Fabulous Friday, my beautiful babies. 

Fabulous Thing #1 
Here's a picture of the Galapagos, Ecuador. My kidlet is freshly home from there, and still chock full of wondrous tales about the island, the people, and how very much she learned on her trip with Sustainable Summer. 

Fabulous Thing #2
My sweet kidlet is out and about with her dear Step-Meredith today...which makes for a supremely chill atmosphere in my beloved writing cave. No looming mama duty. Loads of coffee. Good times, good times. 

...and on that note, I'll leave you to find your own bit of fabulosity for the day. I've got a manuscript calling my name. 

Ciao for Now

Thursday, August 6, 2015

Thursday Think Tank: 6 August 2015

I googled images for Think Tank.

I was thinking, you know, a bunch of brainiac looking sweet geeks. 

Google be blessed, this picture to the left is what popped up on my browser. 

Oh, Google.
You are so winning the internet today, one hot Colin Farrel pic at a time. 

I had all sorts of savvy stuffs and things to talk about, but really? 

Who cares?

Let's have a hot Colin-fest instead. 



 This right here---->

These smoking hot guys cuddled up together.

Oh, now you're just messing with me, Google. Because this picture? I'm pretty sure this picture made my ovaries explode, and I don't even have ovaries any more. 

And last but far from least, this little gem from the Alexander/Hephaestion slash fandom...thank you, Google. 

Do you really need any other reasons?

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Work In Progress Wednesday: SooperSekritStuffs

I am in the final hours of the first draft of a sekrit project. 
A super-duper, secret-squirrel, EYES_ONLY project. 

I realio, trulio want to share this with you.                     

But...I can't. 
I am only an indentured servant, and...
My Squirrel Overlords will not allow it.
Disobedient grunts who unbutton their lips and spill the beans? 
Those fools anger the Squirrel Overlords.
Angry Squirrel Overlords revoke all ident-cards, party passes, and anything resembling fun for their indentured servants. 

Let me put this to you another way.

You know that wacky game, 
Exploding Kittens? Well, it's like when you're playing that game, and you get a certain card. You know the one. ------>
That one right over there. ------>
So instead of grooving along in your lowly indentured servant with a working squirrel ident-card status, you are suddenly whisked out of your happy writing cave--BAM--and thrust into a place where you are irrevocably at the mercy of those infamous Sekrit Squirrel Overlords.

Is it a little clearer now?

I mean, at this point all I can do is bow to them and write as fast as I can. 

Trust me, no one wants to be at the mercy of ANGRY Squirrel Overlords.
Not without a viable Sekrit Squirrel Ident-Card. 

...which brings us right back to why I can't share the current W.I.P. with you.
The Overlords have deemed the project EYES ONLY.

And the only eyes they're letting in on this are their own, my trusty co-author's, and mine. 

On pain of having my secret squirrel card removed if I crack, I must stay strong. 

Because this?
Is serious business. 
Serious squirrel business. 
On pain of punishment sooper sekrit serious squirrel business.

But don't worry. The party of the century, a.k.a. getting hints, sekrits and stuffs about the effing hilarity going down in this current W.I.P.---which by the way, I am expressly forbidden to speak of still---yeah, getting in on all that, plus a Sekrit Squirrel ident-card, some espresso, and various party favors, will be heading your way soon, my precious readers, soon. 

Well, at least for them that's kept their beans buttoned up and not told tales out the side of their sekrit-killing pieholes. 

Those as keep their beans where beans belong are invited. Given party hats and espresso. And this party is going to be THE party of the century. 

So buckle up, babies. Hold on tight. Squint your eyes shut if you must. 

I won't let the tiniest morsel slip. 
Sekrit Squirrel Overlords see everything you know...
I promise, in the end, the party will be worth the price of admittance
I triple pinky-promise on my sekrit squirrel ident-card.

Soon, my precious readers, soon.

Ciao for Now 

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Tuesday Newsday: Upcoming Stuffs and Things

Today is Tuesday. August 4th, and seriously, where the heck did the first half of 2015 go? 
Oh, yeah, that's right, it disappeared in a blur of bad tequila and dodgy brain days. Heh, just kidding about the tequila. That stuff is way too hardcore for me. Realio, trulio.

Anywho, you knowwhat I'm talking about, right? I mean those days where you start to do something, turn around and wonder how the heck you got in the kitchen in the first place? Then you turn around again, and it's 6 pm or 11 pm and you haven't done a damn thing all day. Well, none of the things you planned on doing that day. 


Here I am, and between the doctors and I, we've figured out a tentative plan for keeping my brain-pan from leaking too much. 

*I mean leaking in a figurative manner--no actual brains have been depleted of their juices in the making of my dodgy brain days*

A minimum of 4-6 hours of sleep a day. Plenty of quiet time. Keeping my exposure to overstimulating situations like crowded malls, etc. to a minimum. And the biggest thing of all, getting Kidlet on board with the whole "Help Mom's Brain Work" thing. She waits until I've had my first cuppa joe before she attempts conversation with me. She stops talking is I let it be known I've maxed out on my ability to comprehend conversation. If it's a bad enough for the record books kinda auditory processing day, she switches to ASL and signs to me. 

Eh, the process is not perfect, but at least we now have a working work in progress. 

And on that note, I have a writing newsflash. Heh. I'm writing again. Realio, trulio writng. Over the last week I've been managing to write a minimum of 2k a day. Considering the loooooooooong dry spell I've been through writing-wise this year, 2k a day is cause for celebration. 

And I CANNOT spill the beans entirely yet, but know that Rhae Camdyn and I are heavily engaged in bringing a SooperSekrit project chock full of hilarity to you in the near future. 

That's it for this weeks News. Hopefully I'll have more actual Stuffs and Nonsense to report next week. Barring that, I'll at least have some time to clean up this writing cave. 

*glances around at the somewhat frightening accumulation of suspiciously cobwebby type things and old gidgets and whosiwhatsits lining the walls of the cave...*

Phew. This place really does need sprucing up, doesn't it? I'll get to that as soon as I finish off this pass of working on my current *soopersekrit* Work In Progress. 

Ciao, Cherie

Friday, April 24, 2015

Book Blast Blog Tour for Storming Love: Flood

It's today, it's today!! Woo-hoo! 

I may have forgotten to check...erm, you know, dodgy brain and all that, to see if the various blogs even HAVE comment sections....

So, if you read a blog of mine, or heck, for any of the Storming Love:Flood authors, and want to comment but don't see a comment section? Simply get yourself over here to the Writing Cave, leave a comment HERE, and we'll call it kosher. Just make sure to leave these things in the comment section:

1) Which Blog you are commenting for. Yes, name it by the actual blog NAME and Author Name in the comment.

2) Your contact Information. This means a working email address. If you want to enter but don't like leaving your email address where peeps you don't know can get to it, then say, IN THE COMMENT, "Will pm you on Facebook/tweet you a direct message/email you directly Cherie" *whichever of those apply* I'll leave my links at the bottom of this post. Heh. It'll even say, "my linkys" or something like that, so it will be super easy for you to find.

3) An actual comment. Say something about what you read, what you're hoping to see in the stories, what you ate for breakfast...just say something that will interest and or amuse me. I'll be giving away a bonus prize for the most *according to moi* intersting/amusing/intriguing comment I read today. That bonus prize is ONLY for peeps who comment today, Friday 24 April 2015. 

Hehehehehe. And you are welcome to tell everyone there is a bonus giveaway on my blog. 

Right then, on to the actual talking about the stories from the Storming Love: Flood Anthology...they rock. No, seriously. I had the pleasure of beta reading N.j. Nielsen's and as usual, she rocked my socks right off. Jambrea, Pelaam, AC Katt, and Jenn Dease also joined this fun anthology, and are all such favorites of mine as authors that I pretty much have them on auto-buy...and getting the opportunity to write in an anthology with them has been both an honor and a privilege. 

Did I mention that they are all quite brilliant?

So, here's an excerpt from my story, Patric & Sam, which will publish on May 8th. 


Patric and Sam 

Chapter One 

Sam’s first indication that the damnable duo of Céleste and Delphine Touchet-Smith were plotting about his love life—again—came during Sunday dinner. The twin terrors of Copper Creek, Texas, a.k.a. his beloved maman and mostly tolerated sister, couldn’t go more than six months without interfering in les affaires de coeur, or if you wanted it in plain English, matters of the heart. Sam’s heart to be precise. They called it trying to get him settled. He called it a damned lot of tom-foolery. Seeing as Maman and Del were well into their eighth month without any shenanigans, Sam let himself get a touch too comfortable. He couldn’t help it. He liked the lack of what his maman called—and good Lord did the woman ever lay on the French accent thick as anything when she said it—eligible bachelors showing up out of the blue for Sunday dinner. He really should have seen it coming, though.

Sadly, he didn’t. Instead he tumbled through the weather beaten door of the hundred year old farmhouse where he’d grown up with only seconds to spare—if he was lucky—before his maman decided he was late. Lord help him if that happened, because then she’d start to think up ways to punish his “lack of proper decorum”. His mind firmly fixed on the delicious meal in his immediate future, Sam hot-footed it into the house blind as a new kitten and innocent as a fluffy little baby chick. With his mind more on squeaking in under the wire than being alert to signs and symptoms of meddling, he was ripe for their not-so-subtle machinations.

His wind-milling arms and rubber-chicken legs were half excessive speed on the well waxed floorboards of the front hall, half pure nerves, and one hundred percent Sam. He thanked his lucky stars he wasn’t in Del’s line of sight when he came in, because that would have been fuel for her to heap on the bonfires of their lovingly antagonistic sibling rivalry. She got plenty of mileage out of his clumsiness as it was. His whole life had been plagued by the same trademark lack of grace–it happened anytime he got too nervous. Today’s occurrence made perfect sense in light of his late arrival and the possible revocation of all beignet and crawfish étouffée privileges for a full week. Sam whimpered at the thought.

While enduring a longer span of time than seven days without Maman’s famous étouffée caused severe mood swings, more than three days without beignets might well be a death sentence. That was Sam’s philosophy on the matter and he saw no reason to ever risk such a dire outcome. So he zipped out of his Jeep, sprinted across the front porch, and then yes, tumbled through the front door with no thought to who or what might be on the other side.

Maman and Del’s chattering voices flowed from the kitchen, echoing back and forth down the hall. Paying them all his attention, he tripped over Cletus, otherwise known as Cletus the Lazy, Maman’s old brindle mess of long legs, floppy ears and slobber. Maman insisted he was an example of canine perfection. If you asked Sam the mutt was far from achieving the pinnacle of dogdom. In point of fact, the disreputable lump spent ninety percent of his time masquerading as a throw rug in the front hall—directly in the path of anyone coming in the door. Therein lay the problem. The dog too, or Sam might have gotten all the facts quicker and hightailed it out of Maman’s front door before he got caught in her matchmaking scheme.

All Sam knew in the moment was that he was sweating like a whore in church and praying Maman was in a good mood. Then, he swore he heard Del saying his name with intent as stepped forward to shut the front door. He tip-toed along like a ninja or a spy—at least in his mind—but was foiled by Cletus. The mange infested throw rug yelped out a piteous aaaarrrhhh—oooo—wee and followed that up with a snuffle-whuffle and the doggy sad-side-eye. All sounds from the kitchen ceased. A weighty beat of silence passed, and then Sam’s maman called out. Her dulcet tones dripped false innocence as they echoed along the passageway. Good Christ, he really should have known.

“Samuel, cher, we’re just finishing up in the kitchen. You go on mon fils, wash up now. We be through to the dining room in a moment.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Maman, we ain’t in de Louisiana bayou no more. You gotta use English. Proper American-style English. I know you speak it, what with all the times you done tanned my backside for not speaking proper when I was in school.”

A choked off snort followed by a thwapping sound came from the kitchen. Then the amusing melody of his sister’s indignation. “Maman, you didn’t have to smack me with the spatula. You got to admit, Sam talking his personal proper Texas-American style language is pretty damn funny.”

Another thwap echoed down the hall. Sam snickered. Del yelped, louder than Cletus had, and then Sam’s maman was talking. Her tone, all edge of the bayou Creole haughty with a dash of pure southern belle temper made it clear he’d gone and stepped in a heap of trouble. Between her conciliatory tone, the lack of reprimand for stepping on Cletus, and her handling of Del, the handwriting was on the wall. It was too late for him to escape altogether, but he stood a fair chance of mitigating the damage if he could figure out what the heck those two half-crazy bayou belles were plotting. Waiting in silence should push one of them to fill the void. Maman’s long, soft vowels and deliberate Parisian-style French warned him. Whatever they were planning, he was gonna be madder than a twice baited bull.

“Ah, we-el, mon fils, je suis tres desole. No matter. I will do my best to speak only the finest King’s English, no?”
Delphine appeared around the edge of the kitchen door before Maman stopped speaking. Her soft brown eyes huge in her little heart-shaped face, she hissed at him. Waving her hands back and forth like angry birds picking at a scarecrow, she advanced.
“Oh my gosh. Sam, I swear Maman dropped you on your head every day you was a boy! Lock up your lips tout de suite before Maman kicks us both out without supper. Just think about it. No more homemade beignets, no crawfish étouffée…and a whole week long to wait for another chance at them.” 

Narrowing his eyes, Sam sniffed and pointed at his sister. “I can make my own red beans and rice, little cat, so put your claws away. And…ah, hell, get out of the way so I can go apologize to Maman.”
His vain attempt to camouflage the utter terror of going so long without Maman’s beignets only caused his sister to smile, flip the long tail of her braid over her shoulder, and murmur as she sashayed around him. “Suck up.” 

Sam grunted. “You’re damn skippy I am, cher. Ain’t a body on Earth can cook like Maman…I plan on staying in her good graces forever.” 

Del laughed, just like he knew she would. Warmth spread through his chest. Sisters. Shaking his head, Sam curled one side of his mouth up and flicked the end of her braid. He never got tired of being able to predict how she would react. Chuckling quietly, Sam ambled through the kitchen door. Spreading his arms, hanging his head and gazing up through his lashes, he gave his best little boy grin. “Sorry Maman. I didn’t mean no disrespect.” 

Céleste tossed a small kitchen towel over one shoulder. “Hmmpf.” Sam snuggled up to her, bending down to hug her tight. “Je suis tres desole, Mamam. Ne soyez pas en colère contre moi.”

Laughing, Céleste pushed him toward the dining room doorway. “Delphine is right. You are a suck up. You sit down, cher. I still be serving crawfish étouffée, you terrible boy. Non, non, you were late getting here, Sam, and you think I did not notice? On second thought, you get right back up. Go help your sister set the table if you want to earn your way back into my good graces.”
They waited until he was stuffed fuller than a suckling pig destined for the table before dropping the bomb. When Del met his eyes directly, and Maman cleared her throat twice in a row, Sam froze in place. Del’s smile wobbled ever so slightly as she began to speak.
“Now, Sam, we done paid already, and there’s no refunds possible.” 

Eyes closed to mere slits, Sam waited her out.
“The thing is, you been working too hard. Everybody says so. And wel—”
Maman folded her napkin with small, neat motions, and Sam dropped his head forward to rest his forehead in the palms of both hands. “Just tell me what the two of you have cooked up besides the delicious étouffée I done just ate too much of?” Del turned beseeching eyes toward Maman. The elder Touchet-Smith woman at least had the grace to get a splash of red in both cheeks. “Samuel, cher, we done booked you a little hiking trip. With Carselowey Tours. You work so hard taking care of us, ever since your père et grand-père, ah, father and grandfather passed. We just wanted to say thank you.”

Sam choked, coughed, and sprayed a mouthful of étouffée across the table, missing Delphine by inches. The bright smile Maman wore as she spoke dimmed. She and Delphine both stared down at their plates. Del grimaced. 

“Oh, Sam, it was such a good deal, but because we booked so close to the departure date they can’t offer a refund. Well, except in case of death or extreme medical emergency. And I’m pretty sure bull-headed refusal to take a vacation don’t count.” 

Closing both eyes, Sam sucked in a steadying breath before giving in as gracefully as he could.
“Ah. I guess that clears up the issue of what to do with my vacation days this year. When do I leave?”
Delphine cornered him in the front hall after he’d made his farewells to Maman and before he made good on his bid for freedom. Wrapping a strand of her curly brown hair around one finger, she plunked her back against the front door and pressed both little palms against the center of his chest. “Listen, you hard head—I been hearing some things. I want you to promise me to go on this trip. I know you got some kinda powerful dislike for Patric Carselowey, but Maman put down a heap of money she had put by for something else just so’s you could take some time away from that store. I—just you promise to go, you hear me? Go. And maybe find out if there might have been some reason he did whatever made you come all over fulla hate for him so quick. Can you do that for me, cher?” 

Sam glared down at Del. “You so fulla yourself. One day somebody going to throw a little magic your way bayou girl, and we see how you like that.”
Del huffed out a breath. “I never!”
“Ha. I’m going on this trip. For Maman. But you? Best admire those eyebrows while you still got them.” Sam backed away as he spoke, knowing Del would do the same thing as always in three-two-one…
“I’m gonna tell Maman you threatening my eyebrows again!” she screeched and lunged toward him. Sam dodged around her, jerked the front door open and ran like the wind. He laughed his fool head off all the way to his Jeep, too.

Linky-Dinky stuffs for me: 

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...if you find my sneaky little easter egg I'll add $15 to the big ole gift card. You have to name what you think the "egg" or "eggs" is/ Good luck! *grins*

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Monday, April 20, 2015

Slow week

So it's been a slow week here. It's starting to get hot in GA & my AC is broken & I'm having a hard time with getting anyone out to take a look at it & get an official diagnosis. Luckily we have a little money in savings so we can afford to replace it if necessary, but since we plan to be out of here in a year, I hate to spend the money. I'll be honest; I hate to spend the money anyway, but it's really necessary -- I've had at least three massively ugly headaches over the last week due to the heat/humidity combination.

Also, it's Stanley Cup Playoff time! And my beautiful beloved Penguins got in by the skin of their teeth, almost literally! They beat 30th place team the Buffalo Sabres in their final regular season game, AND Boston Bruins lost *their* final game, either of which clinched us that spot, but had they both gone the other way, we would be done. But I'd probably still be watching all the games. As I write this, I'm watching the final period of game three in the Montreal-Ottawa series; Chicago beat Nashville earlier today to put themselves up 2-1 in that series, and the NY Islanders beat the Washington Capitals to bring their series 2-1 Islanders. Later tonight, Vancouver & Calgary play their game 3, and tomorrow, the other 8 playoff teams play game 3s. I just really love hockey.

Also, hey, if you're not already aware -- there's an awesome webcomic about hockey and college and a sweet Southern gay figure skater-turned-hockey player called Check, Please! It's more-or-less on the live timeline; there's also a Twitter account that goes along with it. Hit "Start the Comic" to read the main comic in chronological order (including some informational comcs illuminating hockey lingo) and then go back through the whole tumblr for extras & Q&As. Learn hockey while crushing on the adorable Eric Bittle (and his pies!) and Jack Zimmerman. And if you're already a hockey fan, and you have any recommendations for me, books, comics, whatever -- COMMENT! Let me know! That stuff is like catnip for me!

I'm trying to get Cherie into hockey, partly because she's up there near Buffalo (despite everything, I think the Sabres have a pretty good cast of characters & if they can capitalize on their #2 overall draft pick position this year, maybe they can move up the ranks), and partly because it's just full of possibilities. & she said something about a plot bunny involving hockey but she's gonna have to learn at least a little about the sport to be able to write it. I'm collecting helpful info, and honestly, this last season is really opening my eyes to the extent of the really toxic attitude hockey has toward injury -- players playing through injury on their own (Pascal Dupuis) despite the life-threatening nature of their illness, getting touted for it as "showing leadership" (Jamie Benn)... I just. No. Not Good! How many of these guys are going to find themselves knocked out of their sport early because they've damaged themselves beyond repair, when if they'd just not played through it, they could have healed before it reached that point?

Anyway. Ranting is over.

Lots of love; gimme all your hockey!

Monday, March 23, 2015

Monday's Minion is...still in recovery mode, kind of...

I feel like I'm a bit lost, still, Trying to figure out what to do and where to go and how to prioritize my list. None of it quite seems to gel.

Loss does that to you. My family lost an important part of our makeup a little over a week and a half ago when my mom's father died. He was the rock that a LOT of us leaned on -- he had four children, 13 grandchildren, 25 great-grandchildren... and we've reached the scattered stage when we're more likely to all be in the same place for a funeral than for any other event.

But anyway. Everyday stuff like "What should I blog about on x date?" seems to have fallen a bit by the wayside. So, let's see...

I know there's a blog tour coming up sooner-than-soon-ish; shall have to make sure I have full details so we can get up a "Find Us HERE" type post.

Revised editions of all the Rescue Twinks books are going up apace; The Counterfeit Claus is available in an expanded version for $0.99 at AllRomanceeBooks and Smashwords. Book Two is Worth a Thousand Words, also available at AllRomance and Smashwords. Book Three is By Any Other Name (AllRomance|Smashwords), and up next should be Glitter and Shamrocks!

In the meantime, I'm going to start getting better at keeping myself on schedule, remembering to keep up with my bullet journaling (surprising no one, this is far more helpful when one doesn't lose the journal under the sofa for a month...), crocheting (and keeping Obnoxious Small Dog from sleeping *in* the various bags that hold various parts of several in-process projects), and trying to decide what cake I want to make for my upcoming birthday. Apparently, DinoBoy thinks that I should let him & Girl-child make a cake for me; in theory I'm fine with this but in all honesty I'm not sure I can ever be actually prepared...

Friday, March 13, 2015

Fabulous Friday: The Party Continues!!

If you're keeping track, this is an all day party. We had Louise Lyons kicking things off in the early morning hours... she's still here *points up* so go take a look, babies. 


*I may be a tad excited about this next bit o'fabulosity*
Worth A Thousand Words 2nd edition released this morning. You can pick it up at Allromanceebooks

There's a sweet deal going on for the next week. 15% off the normal price. Heh. Get them while the gettins good, babies. 

The next rescue twink novel is releasing a week from today, so I've got to get in the cave and writing. Talk with you soon.

Oh, and btw? I'm putting 100% of my sales this month towards getting the kidlet to her Galapagos Conservation course with Sustainable Summer. Just thought you might like to know. :)

Fabulous Friday: Double Release Day Party!!

Today at the Cave, we have a double release day party going on. First up we have Louise Lyons, and I couldn't be more pleased. Welcome, Louise. Glad we could have you here.

One Snowy Night – Individual Release from Wayward Ink Publishing


                                Originally released within Wayward Ink Publishing’s anthology Stranded, in October 2014, my short story One Snowy Night is now available as an individual short story.
One SNowy Night
One snowy night, Keith Brambles learns that appearances can be deceptive.
After yet another disastrous date, Keith drives home much to fast for the snowy conditions. When his car skids and crashes, he thinks he’s going to spend the night freezing in his car, until a man in a white van stops to help him. But Keith fears his rescuer may not appreciate his rather obvious preference.



Another half hour went by, and at last Keith heard the sound of an engine. As he looked out of the window, headlights blinded him, and he blinked and squinted. He unfolded his arms and legs, and groaned as he tried to put his feet down on the floor. His limbs had stiffened and everything hurt. He fumbled for the door handle with numb fingers. As he struggled, suddenly the driver’s door jerked open, and a face appeared.
Keith stared at the hulking figure, stooped over to look into the car. He could make out a moustache and goatee, and bright eyes, but the rest was obscured by a beanie and the collar of a heavy winter coat.
“You alright, mate?” a gruff voice asked.
“Y-y-y-yes,” Keith stammered. He was shivering so badly, he doubted he could utter another word.
“No injuries?”
He shook his head in response.
“Can you get out?”
“I…d-d-d-d…” Keith meant to say I don’t know. He shoved the other door open, and extended one leg, until his foot reached the snowy ground outside. He groaned as he tried to move the other leg. His knee was locked and he couldn’t feel his foot at all.
“Fuck. Wait there.” The driver’s door slammed and seconds later, the man appeared at the other side of the car. Large arms reached out and scooped Keith up. He clutched at the thick neck of his rescuer, as he was plucked from the Audi and carried to a waiting white Transit van. White Van Man. Keith cringed, and hoped the man wouldn’t recognize him. His type probably wasn’t very tolerant. Then again, it wouldn’t really matter whether he knew who Keith was or not. Keith was wearing a purple silk shirt, heeled boots, earrings and eye makeup. He thought his preference must be fairly obvious.
“There you go.” White Van Man managed to pull open the passenger side door of the van and hoist Keith up onto the seat without much effort. He slammed the door closed, went around the other side, and climbed behind the wheel.
The heating in the van was blowing at full blast, and Keith leaned forward and placed his frozen hands over one of the vents. The interior of the vehicle was like a furnace, and he knew he would thaw out quickly, but painfully.
“What happened?” White Van Man asked.
“Um…I…um…I came up to the bend too fast and braked. Stupid.”
“Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“Bruised, maybe, from the seatbelt. The airbag went off. I’m okay, just frozen.”
“How long have you been there?”
“An hour and a half, or thereabouts. Thanks for stopping.” Keith glanced at the man, as he unzipped his coat and pulled the beanie from his head. He had thick, dark hair and dark eyes. Keith could see something on his skin above the neckline of his T-shirt, which could have been a tattoo. Oh, God, White Van Man is probably a biker or a head banger as well.
Keith looked down, and took the plastic cup from the man’s hand. It held strong black coffee. Keith hadn’t noticed him pick up the flask and pour it.
“You’re Kent Brambles,” his rescuer said; a statement rather than a question.
Shit. “Uh…yes. Keith, actually. Kent’s just my…um…my…”
“Stage name?” The man grinned, but then grimaced a little.
“Yeah. I’m guessing my…uh…my music isn’t your cup of tea,” Keith said nervously.
“I’m into my rock and roll.” He smiled again and extended a large hand. “Mike Talbot.”

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