Writing The Grunt: Why This Volume of The Lonely Heart Series Hit Home
By: Latrivia S. Nelson
Submitted Exclusively to Beautiful Trouble Publishing
The Lonely Heart Series is supposed to be comprised of novelettes only, but The Grunt was 309 pages long. Why? It hit home. Being married to a Marine and having lived at Camp Lejeune for nearly four years, I took in a lot of experiences. So, when I sat down to write The Grunt, I found that what I wanted to say would not fit into my normal formula for a short book.
Just to give you a little background, here is the synopsis of The Grunt:
Staff Sergeant Brett Black has a bad feeling that something is going to go terribly wrong. And as a Recon Marine, he pays attention to his gut. Only nothing can prepare him for what he encounters when he arrives at home from the base. His wife is leaving him, and there is nothing he can do about it.
Abandoned with a kid, the super alpha-male has to become domesticated quickly or find a willing substitute to help him with his son. Only the substitute he finds is no substitution.
Courtney Lawless is a true wild card. The budding librarian loves the classics and carries herself like a lady by day. But she also is full of life and surfs the waves of the Atlantic Ocean by night. Since her parents won’t pay for college because of bad decisions in her past, the reformed bad-girl takes a job as Brett’s live-in nanny to finish paying for school.
Brett has never seen a woman of such complex duality. Used to a wife who won’t clean, cook or even talk to him, when he starts to live with Courtney, he realizes what he’s been missing his entire life. Educated, amazing and refreshingly honest, the only thing that that this transparent beauty hides from her new boss is that she’s also the Lieutenant Colonel’s daughter.
Faced with another deployment to Afghanistan soon, the brooding Marine is forced to come out his shell to fight for what he loves, only this time, the war is at home.
Back to the Conversation:
Adam and I started out our marriage as an active duty family in the Marine Corps. During that time, I witnessed a lot of different types of relationships. Some were the most beautiful that I’d ever seen and some were the most deceitful. Interracial couplings were normal too. It was one of the few places that no one ever stared at you because you were with someone different. And the children were so beautiful. Mine fit right in. It was great. Plus, the coast of North Carolina is beautiful. The sunsets will take your breath away and the beaches are some of the most peaceful that I’ve ever walked on.
I was always writing notes in my little book while I was there. And I promised one day to write a story about love in the Corps.
This surely won’t be my only one but it is my first. I’m happy about it. It was a joy to sit down and write about a sexy alpha male who was also a killing machine, but we all know how much I love that concept. I’ve been beating that dead horse for three years now and counting.
The Grunt hits home because love while serving the military is never easy. No matter what you do, your relationship will always be second to their responsibilities to our country. Now, they don’t want it that way. The men and women who sacrifice and serve the country are always torn. They feel horrible about being away from their loved ones, but they have a responsibility that is sworn by an oath. And we need them to fulfill that promise. It’s the only way that we stay safe (not to say that in a way that takes away from God’s unyielding protection that protects us all).
Anyway, in the story Brett took that oath and is now bound to it. So, when he is widowed, he has the option of getting out of the Corps and watching his career flush its way down the toilet, or he can recruit someone to help him keep his family and his position in Recon, one of the hardest special operations units to get into.
Intro to Courtney: I loved writing her character. If you notice, she’s a normal person. True, she has her issues, one of them being the inability to follow through. How many of us can raise our hands on that one? But her endearing qualities far outweigh her issues and her capacity to love shines as bright as the sun.
The combination of the characters is supposed to give you hope. You see two people who need each other, who meet a need in each other’s life and ultimately find love because they are able to just be.
Speaking of people that fit that storyline…
I remember when Adam was hurt during the last tour to Iraq while he was in Light Armor Recon. I was nine months pregnant and had gone back to Memphis to give birth to our daughter when a phone call came telling me that Adam had been blown up. It was like the life had been sucked out of me. I remember the way the room seemed to spin around me, getting smaller and smaller with every evolution. I went into labor right then in a frantic hysteria that lasted a few days.
Ultimately, God blessed us. Adam survived, but men with him did not, some were so badly injured until all the surgeries in the world couldn’t make them whole again. Their sacrifice was and is huge. They do it every day, quietly, unnoticed and selflessly. It’s funny how you can walk around and see heroes every day and not know it.
I have a special place in my heart for anyone who has ever served and for every spouse, child and parent of a service member. We all play our role.
You can see the inner-workings of the family in The Grunt. Even if you’ve never known a military person before reading this story, I think that you’ll walk away with a greater appreciation for the Corps and for love at first sight.
What about you? What makes you tick when you write or read a story? Everyone has a thing. I’m always looking for new ideas.
Drop me a line and tell me what you think of The Grunt or send me a picture of your Grunt. I’m working on a book trailer right now for the book and we’ll release the paperback on August 30th, but I’d also like to put together a Grunt book trailer comprised strictly of military personnel from my readers.
Hope you enjoy and it’s always great to be on this blog. I love you guys and the way that you connect people together.
XoXo and all that jazz,
Latrivia S. Nelson
Monday, August 1, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
"If a butterfly flapped its wings..." by Shirelle Higgins
Have you heard of the butterfly effect? If a butterfly flaps its wings over here, will it cause some weather catastrophe or prevent one somewhere else? Can something so insignificant really have such a profound effect? I think so. At least in my life it’s happened. A little “butterfly” is why I chose to try my hand at writing novels.
I never used to read romance books. GASP! I know, right? But it’s true, I didn’t. My mother read them, and so, by default, they just weren’t cool. (Sorry mom!)
I used to read dark thrillers, or horror. Dean Koontz was my favorite author and I’ve read every vampire book Anne Rice ever wrote. Those were the kind of books I liked. Romance was just pretty, and flowery, and frivolous.
Then one day, my little butterfly said to me: “You like vampires, right?” Duh. Who doesn’t like a good vampire story?
Anyway, she loaned me the first book in The Circle Trilogy, by Nora Roberts. She did NOT tell me it was a romance book, and I did NOT know who Nora Roberts was. (Yes. Apparently I DO live under a rock!) I was halfway through the book before I realized what my sneaky friend had given me, and I was hooked!
After I read those, I read more. I read at least half of that author’s books before I started reading others. Now I can’t live without romance. Who knew my mother was right?
But inevitably it happened. I read two separate books, by two different authors, that disappointed me. OBVIOUSLY the heroine in these novels had chosen the wrong man! The stories may have had a happy ending but I was not happy! If I had written those books, I would have ended them properly. Can you see where I’m going with this?
It took me some time to work up the courage, and even longer to finally finish my little project, but eventually I wrote the story I wanted to read.
My dear friend with the butterfly wings passed away a few years ago. She is sorely missed and this story is for her. I think she would like it.
**Shirelle**
I never used to read romance books. GASP! I know, right? But it’s true, I didn’t. My mother read them, and so, by default, they just weren’t cool. (Sorry mom!)
I used to read dark thrillers, or horror. Dean Koontz was my favorite author and I’ve read every vampire book Anne Rice ever wrote. Those were the kind of books I liked. Romance was just pretty, and flowery, and frivolous.
Then one day, my little butterfly said to me: “You like vampires, right?” Duh. Who doesn’t like a good vampire story?
Anyway, she loaned me the first book in The Circle Trilogy, by Nora Roberts. She did NOT tell me it was a romance book, and I did NOT know who Nora Roberts was. (Yes. Apparently I DO live under a rock!) I was halfway through the book before I realized what my sneaky friend had given me, and I was hooked!
After I read those, I read more. I read at least half of that author’s books before I started reading others. Now I can’t live without romance. Who knew my mother was right?
But inevitably it happened. I read two separate books, by two different authors, that disappointed me. OBVIOUSLY the heroine in these novels had chosen the wrong man! The stories may have had a happy ending but I was not happy! If I had written those books, I would have ended them properly. Can you see where I’m going with this?
It took me some time to work up the courage, and even longer to finally finish my little project, but eventually I wrote the story I wanted to read.
My dear friend with the butterfly wings passed away a few years ago. She is sorely missed and this story is for her. I think she would like it.
**Shirelle**
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
We're Growing
We're getting new authors and our veteran authors are becoming even more badazzed, thus we needed new categories. If you haven't stopped by the BTP website lately, swing by and check out our new categories...and authors.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Introducing Author Dréa Riley
Why I Am NOT Allowed WeaponsThe short answer?
Jayha says I can't.
However, if you ask her, she will say "Unless you: have disposable amounts of cash are willing to provide unlimited valid alibis; can bring Cochran back from the dead on retainer and are willing to sit for numerous sermons and ass-chewings, I suggest you refrain from giving the Texan any weapons. Should you meet those qualifications and I at anytime have to break my sister out of any sort of prison, especially a foreign one, and she then has to begin living a life on the run, I will break my entire foot and the foots of several ninjas off in your entire ass. What’s that, you don't understand? Well, let me ask you this, can you whip my ass? If not I suggest you kiss my ass and don't give her anything that can be a weapon. IF you can whip my ass can you out run a bullet? I didn't think so, the answer is no."
Now y'all may be looking at that li'l speech with your mouths open.
"Drea why you exaggerating?" I am not exaggerating I’ve heard her give that speech. That chic means that more than Obama meant "yes, we can"
The Jeanie says I am allowed. Obviously, she too is biased in her love for me. I am after all The Baby Gurl. But, The Jeanie also unabashedly displays her blood lust.
"If they believe so fiercely, then what have you done to deserve such a vehement response?"
Nothing. It wasn’t me, AND IF BY CHANCE, HYPOTHETICLY SPEAKING IT WAS ME, you can't prove it. I am always where I was supposed to be doing things that are perfectly innocent and legal. *smirking*
I have been accused of allegedly being a menace to society,(Shara says I goaded pharaoh into the starting the plague and teased Attila into become the Hun, Tempted Napoleon into the Russian Winter) being unruly and wild. I don't know where people get these idea (it's not my fault they left me to my own devices in Mexico). I mean like most native born southerners and surely in the same spirit as my entire home state, I just don’t' take shit. I learned to shoot and ride before I could really form complete sentences. I learned the value of a well timed bird flip right about the same time. My first word was four letters and my first full sentence roughly translated from Choctaw was I wish you would.
My first sentence in English was so filled with explicatives that an entire mission group fainted right there in the 'amen' pew.
I firmly believe that if I had hypothetically committed any of the alleged acts then there was a very good reason for my doing so.
People tend to let my jovial zest for life fool them into a false sense of security. I am what they think I am. It's a glamour, a facade, a mask. They rarely see the stealth, intelligence, anger, vulnerability. If they do they convince themselves otherwise. *shrugs*
Make no difference to me.
Two of my favorite quotes are "the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was making the world believe he didn't exist" and "I’ve never done/said anything that didn't need doing or saying"
I am all that you see and hear if that makes you comfortable.
I am also everything that you hope you didn't really glimpse. I am all that scares you. Makes you look over your shoulder and wonder.
And that's why I'm not allowed to have weapons. Because allegedly, I might just be dangerous enough already.
--
I think that a lot of our worldly problems come from trying to classify folks as one thing or another instead of just recognizing them as folks to begin with. —Drea Riley
Dréa’s listings at Beautiful Trouble Publishing:
https://beautifultroublepublishing.com/xcart/Drea-Riley/
Dréa’s Author Bio:
Dréa Riley can always be found one of two favorite places; the kitchen or the computer. A relaxing time for her would be concocting a delicious dish while connecting with her coterie online. Whenever something off the wall happens, Dréa will most likely be found in the middle of it, trying to look innocent and usually failing. With a heart bigger than the Grand Canyon and a mouth more lethal than an injection, this diva might save the world and cuss it out at the same time. This steak-loving sister always finds a way to juggle work, reading, and sleep. She channels the support from her family, friends, and fans into her sitcom lifestyle and stories.
dreariley@gmail.com
Jayha says I can't.
However, if you ask her, she will say "Unless you: have disposable amounts of cash are willing to provide unlimited valid alibis; can bring Cochran back from the dead on retainer and are willing to sit for numerous sermons and ass-chewings, I suggest you refrain from giving the Texan any weapons. Should you meet those qualifications and I at anytime have to break my sister out of any sort of prison, especially a foreign one, and she then has to begin living a life on the run, I will break my entire foot and the foots of several ninjas off in your entire ass. What’s that, you don't understand? Well, let me ask you this, can you whip my ass? If not I suggest you kiss my ass and don't give her anything that can be a weapon. IF you can whip my ass can you out run a bullet? I didn't think so, the answer is no."
Now y'all may be looking at that li'l speech with your mouths open.
"Drea why you exaggerating?" I am not exaggerating I’ve heard her give that speech. That chic means that more than Obama meant "yes, we can"
The Jeanie says I am allowed. Obviously, she too is biased in her love for me. I am after all The Baby Gurl. But, The Jeanie also unabashedly displays her blood lust.
"If they believe so fiercely, then what have you done to deserve such a vehement response?"
Nothing. It wasn’t me, AND IF BY CHANCE, HYPOTHETICLY SPEAKING IT WAS ME, you can't prove it. I am always where I was supposed to be doing things that are perfectly innocent and legal. *smirking*
I have been accused of allegedly being a menace to society,(Shara says I goaded pharaoh into the starting the plague and teased Attila into become the Hun, Tempted Napoleon into the Russian Winter) being unruly and wild. I don't know where people get these idea (it's not my fault they left me to my own devices in Mexico). I mean like most native born southerners and surely in the same spirit as my entire home state, I just don’t' take shit. I learned to shoot and ride before I could really form complete sentences. I learned the value of a well timed bird flip right about the same time. My first word was four letters and my first full sentence roughly translated from Choctaw was I wish you would.
My first sentence in English was so filled with explicatives that an entire mission group fainted right there in the 'amen' pew.
I firmly believe that if I had hypothetically committed any of the alleged acts then there was a very good reason for my doing so.
People tend to let my jovial zest for life fool them into a false sense of security. I am what they think I am. It's a glamour, a facade, a mask. They rarely see the stealth, intelligence, anger, vulnerability. If they do they convince themselves otherwise. *shrugs*
Make no difference to me.
Two of my favorite quotes are "the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was making the world believe he didn't exist" and "I’ve never done/said anything that didn't need doing or saying"
I am all that you see and hear if that makes you comfortable.
I am also everything that you hope you didn't really glimpse. I am all that scares you. Makes you look over your shoulder and wonder.
And that's why I'm not allowed to have weapons. Because allegedly, I might just be dangerous enough already.
--
I think that a lot of our worldly problems come from trying to classify folks as one thing or another instead of just recognizing them as folks to begin with. —Drea Riley
Dréa’s listings at Beautiful Trouble Publishing:
https://beautifultroublepublishing.com/xcart/Drea-Riley/
Dréa’s Author Bio:
Dréa Riley can always be found one of two favorite places; the kitchen or the computer. A relaxing time for her would be concocting a delicious dish while connecting with her coterie online. Whenever something off the wall happens, Dréa will most likely be found in the middle of it, trying to look innocent and usually failing. With a heart bigger than the Grand Canyon and a mouth more lethal than an injection, this diva might save the world and cuss it out at the same time. This steak-loving sister always finds a way to juggle work, reading, and sleep. She channels the support from her family, friends, and fans into her sitcom lifestyle and stories.
dreariley@gmail.com
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Introducing Author Billy London
Between a Spank and a Hard Place
When I say there's a skill to a good spank, I'm not just writing to amuse Nevea Lane. There be method to my madness. One of my favourite things about men is their hands. Hands are always a good indication for what you'll find in the trouser department; moreover, I want to see if it's a broad, slap my bottom silly type palm. Hard, calloused, raw, rough and capable of turning brown skin red. It's doable, believe me!
I did wander in the wilderness for a while, bereft of a good smack. I was sad. I was blue. I suffered with men who would hesitantly state ‘well not too hard, she's only five foot three and a bit’ and the even worse ‘I'm not comfortable with this really but as she pulled on my balls until I agreed, I'll doing it.’
I wanted to throw them out of the nearest window into the street where the next available truck would run them over for being so lame. What's so wrong about it? Make that jelly shake! I mean, dude, you know that thing I do when I have an orgasm, and you think you're going to lose your member because I'm squeezing so hard? Yeah, give me a good meaningful spank on either butt cheek with your palm and you'll get a preview, if not a whole damn encore when you're finished.
I'm not going to go all Freud and explain why I like it. That's not important. What is, is finding a man worthy of alternating styles of spanking. The swipe smack with the stinging tips of the fingers, or the clapping kneading-dough-with-your-globes smack or the best open handed-what-I'd-do-if-I-was-in-a-soap-opera with both hands slap! That's why God gave man two hands! —to spank his woman good and proper. A brilliant spanker will be intuitive as to how hard to do it–he'll read the resulting yelps from 'not bad' to 'getting there' to 'praise be!' to 'where's my gun?' Oh lord yes! That rush of sensation combined with the depth of rhythm you only get with length and girth guarantees that I start speaking in tongues... I freaking live for moments like that.
Don't worry, no one's hurt me. I haven't recalled any bad memories from some horrible school with the cane and I haven't reported anyone for assault. If I'm asking, begging, pleading, waving my bottom in a man's face he needs to take up that invitation pretty damn quick or jog on. I want it! So do it! For the love of mercy, spank that ass!
I'm going to get myself a glass of water and calm down. Next time, paddles!
Billy’s listings at Beautiful Trouble Publishing:
https://beautifultroublepublishing.com/xcart/Billy-London/
Billy’s Author Bio:
Ah, poor Billy. The only girl between two boys who each have nearly a foot on her. Didn't stop her from starting physical fights with them. She still thinks she can take them. So while she used to hide away in her wardrobe to read a book or four, she started to question why the heroines in those books would just lie there and take it. No, not just sex, but downright James-Bond-backhand-slapping, do-as-you're-told-woman, inappropriate lie there and take it.
She couldn't understand it. These women were just playing that mental woman from Coming to America, Miss “Whatever You Like” who barked like a dog and hopped on one foot. Billy didn't want to do that. Definitely not because one empty-headed fool with different anatomy told her to. So she started to create characters and worlds where the women could own their sexuality, their intelligence, their right to turn around and say “jog on, mate” without apology.
The small problem was that other people wanted to read what she was had written. “Er...why?” didn't cut it as an answer. After years of prodding and pleading and come on and for goodness’ sake, what's the point otherwise, she closed her eyes and pressed “submit.” Actually, she had Prosecco, limencello and white wine, then pressed “submit.” Who would have thought people would actually enjoy reading about the crazy characters who live in her head? But they have done, and Billy feels rather proud of that connection with her fellow man.
Billy lives in London with the most patient family in the world and doesn't forget for a minute how lucky she is. Well, she wouldn't mind a BBC adaptation of one of her novels... Ooh, with Richard Armitage!
When I say there's a skill to a good spank, I'm not just writing to amuse Nevea Lane. There be method to my madness. One of my favourite things about men is their hands. Hands are always a good indication for what you'll find in the trouser department; moreover, I want to see if it's a broad, slap my bottom silly type palm. Hard, calloused, raw, rough and capable of turning brown skin red. It's doable, believe me!
I did wander in the wilderness for a while, bereft of a good smack. I was sad. I was blue. I suffered with men who would hesitantly state ‘well not too hard, she's only five foot three and a bit’ and the even worse ‘I'm not comfortable with this really but as she pulled on my balls until I agreed, I'll doing it.’
I wanted to throw them out of the nearest window into the street where the next available truck would run them over for being so lame. What's so wrong about it? Make that jelly shake! I mean, dude, you know that thing I do when I have an orgasm, and you think you're going to lose your member because I'm squeezing so hard? Yeah, give me a good meaningful spank on either butt cheek with your palm and you'll get a preview, if not a whole damn encore when you're finished.
I'm not going to go all Freud and explain why I like it. That's not important. What is, is finding a man worthy of alternating styles of spanking. The swipe smack with the stinging tips of the fingers, or the clapping kneading-dough-with-your-globes smack or the best open handed-what-I'd-do-if-I-was-in-a-soap-opera with both hands slap! That's why God gave man two hands! —to spank his woman good and proper. A brilliant spanker will be intuitive as to how hard to do it–he'll read the resulting yelps from 'not bad' to 'getting there' to 'praise be!' to 'where's my gun?' Oh lord yes! That rush of sensation combined with the depth of rhythm you only get with length and girth guarantees that I start speaking in tongues... I freaking live for moments like that.
Don't worry, no one's hurt me. I haven't recalled any bad memories from some horrible school with the cane and I haven't reported anyone for assault. If I'm asking, begging, pleading, waving my bottom in a man's face he needs to take up that invitation pretty damn quick or jog on. I want it! So do it! For the love of mercy, spank that ass!
I'm going to get myself a glass of water and calm down. Next time, paddles!
Billy’s listings at Beautiful Trouble Publishing:
https://beautifultroublepublishing.com/xcart/Billy-London/
Billy’s Author Bio:
Ah, poor Billy. The only girl between two boys who each have nearly a foot on her. Didn't stop her from starting physical fights with them. She still thinks she can take them. So while she used to hide away in her wardrobe to read a book or four, she started to question why the heroines in those books would just lie there and take it. No, not just sex, but downright James-Bond-backhand-slapping, do-as-you're-told-woman, inappropriate lie there and take it.
She couldn't understand it. These women were just playing that mental woman from Coming to America, Miss “Whatever You Like” who barked like a dog and hopped on one foot. Billy didn't want to do that. Definitely not because one empty-headed fool with different anatomy told her to. So she started to create characters and worlds where the women could own their sexuality, their intelligence, their right to turn around and say “jog on, mate” without apology.
The small problem was that other people wanted to read what she was had written. “Er...why?” didn't cut it as an answer. After years of prodding and pleading and come on and for goodness’ sake, what's the point otherwise, she closed her eyes and pressed “submit.” Actually, she had Prosecco, limencello and white wine, then pressed “submit.” Who would have thought people would actually enjoy reading about the crazy characters who live in her head? But they have done, and Billy feels rather proud of that connection with her fellow man.
Billy lives in London with the most patient family in the world and doesn't forget for a minute how lucky she is. Well, she wouldn't mind a BBC adaptation of one of her novels... Ooh, with Richard Armitage!
Friday, March 11, 2011
Introducing Author Shara Azod
Driving is Dangerous
Save a Life- seriously. Follow these simple tips and pass them on and YOU could be saving a life.
Do not cut me off, get in front of me, and then slow down, because if you do I will follow you home and burn every car in a five mile radius just in case one of your neighbors even think of letting you drive their car because yours is a smoldering torch
Do not ride up on my bumper—go around, because I will slow down, then when you do move over I will get in front of you and slow down.
If you are driving under the speed limit, get the fruck out of the fast lane; I am serious because I will take you out slowly and without mercy.
Take the keys away from grandma and grandpa. I mean for real. If they are 157, they don’t need to be on the road, you should be running their errands or taking them where they want to go. If you don’t I am coming after you, not the grands.
Truckers are assholes. I don’t care if they are your spouse, brother, sister, daddy, cousin on your mother’s uncle’s sister’s step-brother’s side, they are assholes and it won’t be bananas I stick in their tail pipe.
Dear Mr./Ms. FBI, NSA, Secret Service or other law enforcement person, these are not real threats, it is irony. I am being sarcastic to work out my frustrations. I have no intention of purposefully doing anyone any serious bodily harm. I am merciful after all. And nice.
One more thing: If you have to put nuts
http://www.thatsnutz.com/index.php?main_page=index&cPath=65
on your truck, this signifies you have none, which makes me more man than you'll ever be and more woman than you'll ever have. Go home, hide your face, or I will dominate you. I just might anyway.
Jeanie and Jayha comment 1: Dear Mr./Ms. Law Enforcement Agent/Entity. What she said…except, neither of us would go so far as to say she is “nice.” That part of her post is what we in the south call a ‘Damn Lie.’
Jeanie and Jayha comment 2: Dear Truckers. We’re not involved in her comments. We love the “Smoky and the Bandit” movies. Thank you.
Shara’s listings at Beautiful Trouble Publishing:
https://beautifultroublepublishing.com/xcart/Shara-Azod/
Shara Azod Bio:
Shara is the first one to admit she is a little off. Her favorite movies are Steel Magnolias and Apocalypse Now, with a little Godfather and Animal House thrown in for fun. When not planning to take over the world, or re-fighting the world’s greatest battles in her mind, she can usually be found having deep and meaningful conversations with her kids (11 & 8) about the meaning of life or trying to talk her husband into buying her weapons—just in case of Armageddon.
www.sharaazod.com
Save a Life- seriously. Follow these simple tips and pass them on and YOU could be saving a life.
Do not cut me off, get in front of me, and then slow down, because if you do I will follow you home and burn every car in a five mile radius just in case one of your neighbors even think of letting you drive their car because yours is a smoldering torch
Do not ride up on my bumper—go around, because I will slow down, then when you do move over I will get in front of you and slow down.
If you are driving under the speed limit, get the fruck out of the fast lane; I am serious because I will take you out slowly and without mercy.
Take the keys away from grandma and grandpa. I mean for real. If they are 157, they don’t need to be on the road, you should be running their errands or taking them where they want to go. If you don’t I am coming after you, not the grands.
Truckers are assholes. I don’t care if they are your spouse, brother, sister, daddy, cousin on your mother’s uncle’s sister’s step-brother’s side, they are assholes and it won’t be bananas I stick in their tail pipe.
Dear Mr./Ms. FBI, NSA, Secret Service or other law enforcement person, these are not real threats, it is irony. I am being sarcastic to work out my frustrations. I have no intention of purposefully doing anyone any serious bodily harm. I am merciful after all. And nice.
One more thing: If you have to put nuts
http://www.thatsnutz.com/index.php?main_page=index&cPath=65
on your truck, this signifies you have none, which makes me more man than you'll ever be and more woman than you'll ever have. Go home, hide your face, or I will dominate you. I just might anyway.
Jeanie and Jayha comment 1: Dear Mr./Ms. Law Enforcement Agent/Entity. What she said…except, neither of us would go so far as to say she is “nice.” That part of her post is what we in the south call a ‘Damn Lie.’
Jeanie and Jayha comment 2: Dear Truckers. We’re not involved in her comments. We love the “Smoky and the Bandit” movies. Thank you.
Shara’s listings at Beautiful Trouble Publishing:
https://beautifultroublepublishing.com/xcart/Shara-Azod/
Shara Azod Bio:
Shara is the first one to admit she is a little off. Her favorite movies are Steel Magnolias and Apocalypse Now, with a little Godfather and Animal House thrown in for fun. When not planning to take over the world, or re-fighting the world’s greatest battles in her mind, she can usually be found having deep and meaningful conversations with her kids (11 & 8) about the meaning of life or trying to talk her husband into buying her weapons—just in case of Armageddon.
www.sharaazod.com
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Introducing Author Janet Eckford
The Look
I periodically peruse poetry to lure my muse out of hiding. There is something so simple and yet deliciously erotic about a well written poem. I love the rhythm and cadence of the words that when spoken aloud causes the tongue to move in a slow languid pace that makes me think of all the other fun things the tongue can be used for.
I also love a poem that captures those sexy secret moments that people can have with each other. The soft caress of your lover’s hand on yours in a crowded room or when you press your lips together in greeting but hello is more than what you’re saying. But if I’m a sucker for anything, it’s the look one shares with another, that speaks volumes more than any words could express.
I found such a poem the other day by Sara Teasdale called “The Look”. I was initially beguiled by the peppy little flutter of the words strung together, until the end when smack, I was hit with imagery that suggested a look can often be more powerful than any kiss you can have. I shivered at the thought of the looks I’ve given and received over the years and my muse immediately clamored for attention.
“We need to write something like that,” she whispered.
I’m going to get right too it but first I’d be interested in knowing what your “look” dear reader has been and if the memory of it stays with you far longer than the implication of the act that may have followed.
Here is the poem. Copyright © 1997 - 2011 by Academy of American Poets
Strephon kissed me in the spring,
Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
And never kissed at all.
Strephon's kiss was lost in jest,
Robin's lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin's eyes
Haunts me night and day.
Janet’s listings at Beautiful Trouble Publishing:
https://beautifultroublepublishing.com/xcart/Janet-Eckford/
Janet Eckford Bio:
Like most great superheroes (or super-villains, depending on who’s telling the story) Janet Eckford lives a double life. By day Janet is a mild-mannered crusader for justice (or nefarious deeds, depending on who’s telling the story) and by night an indestructible creator of prose (or pathological liar, depending on who’s telling the story) while munching on her favorite cookies—oatmeal raisin. A native West Coaster who hails from the sunny state of California Janet, has loved the romance genre ever since she convinced her dad it was required reading when she was eleven. Janet believes love shouldn’t have a color code and strives to create stories that represent that belief.
Send her your praise and adoration and she will return it in kind.
janeteckford@yahoo.com
I periodically peruse poetry to lure my muse out of hiding. There is something so simple and yet deliciously erotic about a well written poem. I love the rhythm and cadence of the words that when spoken aloud causes the tongue to move in a slow languid pace that makes me think of all the other fun things the tongue can be used for.
I also love a poem that captures those sexy secret moments that people can have with each other. The soft caress of your lover’s hand on yours in a crowded room or when you press your lips together in greeting but hello is more than what you’re saying. But if I’m a sucker for anything, it’s the look one shares with another, that speaks volumes more than any words could express.
I found such a poem the other day by Sara Teasdale called “The Look”. I was initially beguiled by the peppy little flutter of the words strung together, until the end when smack, I was hit with imagery that suggested a look can often be more powerful than any kiss you can have. I shivered at the thought of the looks I’ve given and received over the years and my muse immediately clamored for attention.
“We need to write something like that,” she whispered.
I’m going to get right too it but first I’d be interested in knowing what your “look” dear reader has been and if the memory of it stays with you far longer than the implication of the act that may have followed.
Here is the poem. Copyright © 1997 - 2011 by Academy of American Poets
Strephon kissed me in the spring,
Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
And never kissed at all.
Strephon's kiss was lost in jest,
Robin's lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin's eyes
Haunts me night and day.
Janet’s listings at Beautiful Trouble Publishing:
https://beautifultroublepublishing.com/xcart/Janet-Eckford/
Janet Eckford Bio:
Like most great superheroes (or super-villains, depending on who’s telling the story) Janet Eckford lives a double life. By day Janet is a mild-mannered crusader for justice (or nefarious deeds, depending on who’s telling the story) and by night an indestructible creator of prose (or pathological liar, depending on who’s telling the story) while munching on her favorite cookies—oatmeal raisin. A native West Coaster who hails from the sunny state of California Janet, has loved the romance genre ever since she convinced her dad it was required reading when she was eleven. Janet believes love shouldn’t have a color code and strives to create stories that represent that belief.
Send her your praise and adoration and she will return it in kind.
janeteckford@yahoo.com
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