Ah, finally the letter 'P'. You all have no idea how patiently I've been waiting for 'P' day. You see, I have this sister who's is remarkably talented as both a writer and an editor. Princess, Keriann McKenna, (I would have used Queen Keriann, but it's 'P' day) has penned not one, but two prolific novels and where are they you may ask? Peacefully presiding over her PC.
I know it's preposterous, but in fact, Keriann is a profoundly procrastinating perfectionist, pontificating on why it's permissible to sit on her work and not publish it for all of posterity to peruse.
Not only that, but she has partially penned a third novel and has left me precipitously dangling over a precipice of pleasurable possibilities as to how it will proceed. I tell you it's positively provoking!
Alas, I proclaim, I love her very much, (sigh), and will persevere with my prodding and pushing until she publishes. Until then... just go buy my books, they're pretty good too.
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As a rule, I write about ordinary men. By that I mean they are not billionaires, living the high life. They may have money, but they work for it. Marcus and Ty from the Sugar Babies, Inc series inherited a fortune, but Marcus is a successful author and Ty is a Vet.
I want my readers to be able to connect in a real way with my characters. Patrick O'Malley and his wife Molly, own and work very hard to make a living with their Pub. Nick is a lawyer and his wife Maggie is a foreman at Mason Kord's construction company. Abby works in a Bridal Shop, Bridget at the Library. Noah is a professor at the local university.
Of course, you won't know who all these people are if you haven't read my books and that's okay. The point is they are ordinary in the sense that they are part of a family and a community. They raise their children, work, pay bills, and struggle with life's unexpected calamities. Above all, they love.
Occasionally, my female characters will cause a bit of trouble and get their bottoms spanked, and that is a little out of the ordinary in today's world, but it's great fun to write and I hope, fun to read.
I know it's Father's Day and we're all busy, but if you find the time later, check out some of the other blogs and leave a comment.
Yes, 'N' is for Naughty. We love our naughty girls, don't we. I mean where is the fun in writing about a perfectly behaved woman with their impeccable manners and soft spoken ways. No, give me a Scarlet O'Hara any day, sassing Rhett Butler and trying to steal Ashley Wilkes away from Melanie. Had Mr. Butler indeed taken a buggy whip to Scarlet as he threatened, I'm sure there would have been a very different ending to Gone With The Wind.
But, I digress. Now and then I don't mind reading about the poor, put upon, heroine who has been beaten down by the wicked ways of the world, but sooner or later, after she's been rescued of course, she better show some spunk! I want to see/read some spirit, sass and a touch of defiance. She has to have a spark that makes me care about her, root for her and smile when she goes to far and gets her fanny spanked by her loving man.
So who's your favorite naughty girl? She can be from a movie or novel and why.
Stop by the other blogs and see what's heating up today.
Let me start by saying I'm not overly fond of Molasses cookies. In fact, I wouldn't buy them from a store on a bet. However,
THESE COOKIES ARE FABULOUS, and it's not because it's my Grandmother's recipe either. Now, this is a secret recipe that I never share with anyone, but I've come to so respect the other bloggers on this challenge that I find I must be generous.
Grandma and Grandpa got married in 1916 and at that time she was not a great cook. I can remember when I was little Grandpa telling me the story of when they first got married and Grandma made biscuits that were so bad she fed them to the neighbors chicken. They died, lol. I don't know how true this story is as she always slapped him with her dishtowel when he told it, but on the other hand, I never knew my Grandpa to lie. So here it is, exactly how she wrote it in my cook book before she passed away in 1980. The parts in ( ) I added so it will be clear. I've made them many times and they always disappear quickly. These are soft cookies and it you store them in an airtight container with a piece of bread, they will stay that way.
2 c sugar (cups)
1 c lard soft or melted (shortening)
1 c molasses
1 c coffee (I use decaf but it doesn't matter)
2 eggs beaten
2 tsp soda (baking soda)
2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp cloves (ground)
4 or 5 c flour
Cream sugar, melted lard and eggs together. ( I use shortening or margarine and I don't melt it, just let it soften). Add coffee when cooled, not hot and then add molasses. Add 4 cups flour, soda, cinnamon, gloves etc and beat good. Let stand overnight. (I cover and put in fridge for the night or several hours if I'm in a hurry). If too thin in the morning add 1/2 flour and drop on cookie sheet and bake until brown at 375 for 25-30 minutes. (In today's over, I have convection, I bake them about 15-16 minutes). You can add 1 c nutmeats or 1 c raisins if you want. Try one on a pie tin to make sure not to thin and if they are add 1/2 cup flour.
Over the years Grandma turned into a wonderful cook, selling her pies and cakes. She was a wiz at canning and I don't remember ever eating canned vegetables. Her sloppy joe's were to die for and she canned her own piccadilly to make them. Her home made Root Beer was a very mysterious project which she did in the cellar in huge stone crocks and bottled herself. Down there was her gas stove for caning, a deep double sink and her wringer washer. The wall were lined with cupboards, filled with mason jar of her 'eats'. On hot summer nights my sister's and I would get in our nightgowns and swing on the metal glider on the front porch, enjoying Root Beer Floats, Those were the days. Oh, one more thing about Grandma, she loved Elvis!
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Music touches our soul, the lyrics make it personal. Throughout out lives we use song to express our deepest feelings. I remember watching an episode of Family Guy where Peter wanted a theme song for his life, and laughing. In reality, that would never work for me. There are too many periods in my life where the theme would have to change. Joy, sadness, depression, grief and hope, would all have to flow together. There have been times of incredible anger, and times when I was so filled with love, the most beautiful melody on earth would not be able to do it justice.
Janis Joplin's, Cry Baby, The Eagles, Best of My Love, Garth Brooks, The Dance, Martina McBride, In My Daughter's Eyes, there are just to many to list. So many wonderful songs and artists make up the soundtrack of my life.
John Denver's, Annie's Song was what I walked down the aisle to when I married the love of my life.
Celine Dion's , Because You Loved Me, was the song my daughter chose to dance with her father at her wedding.
So what's your theme song? What songs touch your heart now and forever? Share with us the music that makes your heart sing.
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The definition of killjoy is someone who take's the joy or enjoyment out of something.
So here's what happened. This weekend I finished my WIP, book 4 of my Sugar Babies, Inc. series. Yeah!
In celebration I decided to buy some books. If you're like me, when you're working it's very rare to take the time to read. You're focused on the goal, finishing you own novel and try not to get distracted by anything else. Of course, we all have other responsibilities that require out attention, but reading is a pleasure, one I save for down times or if I just can't help myself.
Anyway, I bought eleven books. I know, a pretty lofty goal considering I'm already working on a new novel. Some I've been wanting for a while and others just caught my eye. Immediately I immersed myself in erotic romance, reading the first one in an afternoon and leaving a glowing, well-deserved review. Moving on to the second book, I was impressed. It had a great storyline, interesting characters and was well written, not a lot of distracting errors, that kind of thing. There was A LOT of description, but hey, I've read Gone With The Wind more times than I can remember, and the Twilight Series at least three times, so length doesn't faze me.
And then it happened! Right in the middle, a sentence that stopped me cold! It turned me off with a capital T faster than a cop's flashlight shining in the back window of a steamy car. I tried to move on; I liked the story, but I kept hearing him say that to her. Now I know that not all readers like everything, I mean we all have our favorite kink, but this book was so good, until this sentence reached out and slapped me!
So here is my question to you:
What is your 'killjoy'?
What will make you immediately stop reading and close that book you just paid for?
Do you just skim over it and pretend it didn't happen?
I curious if I'm in the minority here, or oversensitive about certain things?
This is kind of how I felt.
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Johnny Hastings managed to do a few things right in his life and that was to produce sons. Five hunky, dominant sons whose stories are told by five amazing authors in The Sons of Johnny Hastings
The new releases from Blushing Books are available as a boxed set or individually.
Great reviews are already starting to pour in so grab yourself some western fun and hang on for the ride!
The Blacksmith’s Bride by Patricia Green
Sunny Winslow knows exactly what she wants in a man. When she meets the blacksmith, Abel Armstrong, in her new home she's immediately hooked. Unfortunately, her mother has other plans for her that do not include a blacksmith. She is determined to tie Sunny to a rich town counselor. Sunny is desperate to escape the counselor, so she embarks on a series of schemes to get the man she wants.
Abel Armstrong has some skeletons in his closet. In the late 1800s, it's quite the scandal to be a divorced man. Over the course of the last ten years, he's had to work very hard to get his reputation back. Meeting Sunny is like a breath of fresh air, but he can't afford to throw caution to the wind and force their joining by doing something disreputable.
Can spankings teach Sunny to have some patience and trust that Abel's way is the right way? And, can Abel deal with Sunny's impulsive scheming and keep his standing in the community intact?
The Lawman’s Lessons by Patty Devlin
Choose one of the two men, or take the return ticket and head home. It wasn’t much of a choice. Celia had worked and studied so hard to have a school of her own. And she had known that they might be a little upset. She knew exactly what they had wanted. It was stated very clearly in the advertisement and she could probably read and write better than anyone one of them.
Jackson sure never planned to marry, and how could he when his name would be a disgrace to his bride? So why had he fought so hard to keep her from marrying the other man? He could have shrugged it off and gotten out of there, but he just couldn’t do it. The new school teacher needed someone who would stay on her tail and teach her a lesson or else she’d run right into danger.
But, he’d have to be honest with her and tell her about that no good scoundrel who had sired him. She at least had a right to know he was a bas—illegitimate, that the man who fathered him had left his mother alone to fend for herself. Then if Celia could handle that, well, they could work the rest out. Besides, there weren’t any other good choices and she simply couldn’t be without a husband.
The Juniper Bride by Maddie Taylor
Emmalee Gray watches in frustration as her fiancé, Clinton Ryan, boards a train heading west. Told to stay behind and prepare for their wedding as Clint embarks on a mysterious errand, Em has other ideas. She doesn’t want to remain home without him, especially with her witch of a stepmother and a father who barely knows she exists. She’d much rather risk Clint’s wrath and follow him, planning to stay hidden until she gets so far away from Boston he wouldn’t dare send her back alone. Then she can enjoy some private time and maybe a little adventure with her gorgeous fiancé, in advance of their nuptials.
Unfortunately, Emmalee is a magnet for trouble and finds herself in one scrape after another. To keep her safe, Clint lays down the law: obey his orders or suffer the consequences over his knee.
Can they make it to their destination in one piece? When they do, and Clint’s past is revealed, how will Emmalee react, and will she ever find out why people keep calling her a "juniper bride?" With danger and intrigue swirling around them at every turn, can their passionate love survive?
To Have and To Scold by Mary Wehr
Annie’s sweet on her neighbor, Matthew Caine, but the stern rancher treats her like a bratty child instead of a woman. Each encounter always ends with a trip over his knee.
Matthew’s fed up with Annie’s childish behavior. Her latest prank ruined a brand new pair of boots! While he sets her britches on fire, he refers to her as a nuisance and warns her to leave him alone. For once in her life, Annie obeys.
‘Bratty’ Annie has grown into a beautiful woman and Matthew realizes that he’s fallen in love with her, but she’s unsure of his feelings. When he learns about her stepmother’s evil plan to marry her off to a man Annie despises in order to settle a debt, he steps in and takes her to wife.
Annie’s happy to be married to the man of her dreams and learns that no matter what her age, her disobedience and sass will be dealt with an old-fashioned spanking.
The Outlaw’s Bride by Renee Rose
Mabelle Lawson had been managing her dead sister’s ranch without help for three months. The last thing she needs is a band of outlaws showing up and pushing her around. The Curly James gang members have no patience for her sass, and when their leader attempts to strike her with his fist, one of his men volunteers to spank her instead. She wants to hate the good-looking outlaw, but he seems to have her well-being at heart, even risking his life to protect her from the other men.
Unjustly accused of murder, Sam Pride is on the run and his luck worsens when he tangles with the Curly James gang. The only bright spot is the little spitfire rancher who steals his heart with her courage and spunk. When the two set off together for Cheyenne and then Denver, sparks fly and their magnetic connection grows.
Still, Mabelle is not sure if Sam will commit and even if he does, can he clear his name before a bounty hunter shoots him or brings him in?
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One of the most important jobs we can do as writers is inspire others. It doesn't matter whether you're on the best sellers list making millions or struggling through your first novel, as long as you're moving toward your dream you can be an inspiration.
I wrote my first novel in 1991. My husband was very ill, I worked full-time and we were raising five children. Harlequin was running a promotion, something like "So you think you can write" and I sent away for the free tapes. I borrowed my friends word processor and jumped in, often staying up until 3 or 4 in the morning at my little desk in our bedroom. Times were tough, stress was immeasurable and my characters took my mind off my own problems. At that time, everything was hard copy, so I printed off my manuscript and sent it of to Ontario with return postage.
While I waited for a reply, my husband had heart surgery to have a mechanical valve put into his aorta, my life returned to semi-normal and I kept writing, listening to him tick like a clock in the dark hours before dawn. I was about half way through with my second book when I got a reply from an editor. It was a personal letter, somewhat unusual for you first submission, or so I've been told. She said the reader like it, but she (the editor) thought it was "too episodic". Even today, I have no idea what that means, and I've asked many authors. She suggested some changes, but I really didn't know what to change, so I packed up my books, sent them to the attic, returned the word processor and buried my dreams. A few weeks later I received another letter asking if I was working on anything else. I wasn't, not anymore. It was over and I figured writing got me through some pretty dark days so I was thankful for that.
My kids grew up, got married, had kids of their own and I retired. It wasn't until 2012 that I thought about those books and wondered if now that I had more time I might be able to do something with them. I asked my sons to go up and see if they were still there, and lo and behold they were. Now I have eight book out and another ready to go.
I often wonder if I would have given up so easily, if I had someone to cheer me on, or where I might be today had I kept writing. I'll never know, but one thing is certain, I will always encourage and support other writers in any way that I can. No one should give up on their dreams. I haven't 'made' it. I'll never be rich in anything but pride and the personal satisfaction of knowing that I'm finally doing something I've always dreamed of.
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I'm not really doing the happy dance, I'm to damn tired to do a waltz, but it's 'H' day and I may as well take advantage of it.
Book 4 in my Sugar Babies, Inc, series is done and off to my beta readers. Hurray!!!. Hope that's enough enthusiasm for today.
I wanted to have it done by the end of May, so I'm not to far off schedule, but it's been difficult concentrating with all that's going on in my personal life. Nevertheless, I'm thrilled to have it moving along toward publication. I haven't decided on a title yet, but here's a short excerpt:
“Red, I suggest you spit out whatever is stuck in your craw,” he said narrowing his eyes.
“There’s nothing stuck in me, anywhere,” she replied, beginning to load the dishwasher.
“Then what is it? You’ve been acting strangely for days.”
“Maybe I’m just strange,” she suggested sarcastically. “In fact I think you’ve hit the nail right on the head,” she snapped, tossing down her cloth and stomping out of the kitchen.
“Come back here,” he ordered, getting to his feet.
“Kiss my ass,” she called over her shoulder as she ran for the stairs.
He was on her in seconds, his long legs eating up the distance despite her head start. Taking her firmly by the arm he escorted her back to the kitchen, pulled out a chair and sat her down.
His eyes dared her to get up as he took his seat and she crossed her arms over her chest and scowled.
“You have until I finish eating to tell me what you’re problem is,” he informed her, taking a bite of his omelet.
“Or what?” she demanded.
“Or I will get a wooden spoon out of the drawer, flip you over the breakfast bar and proceed to decorate your pristine ass with dozens of lovely red ovals,” he promised.
Susan blanched. She counted a wooden spoon in the top three of her least favorite implements of discipline, just under a switch and her heavy wooden hairbrush. Looking out the glass door at the lake she managed to keep one eye on Marcus’s progress, jumping up as soon as he was finished and reaching for his plate.
“I’m waiting, but my patience is wearing thin, Red,” he said, wiping his mouth before snagging her wrist and pulling her onto his lap. “You’ve got a pissy attitude and I want to know why? I can spank if out of you, but I’d prefer to know what I’m up against.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she sulked. “I’m antsy and irritated, that’s all. Just let me be; I’ll work it out by myself.”
“That’s not acceptable,” he replied. “I’m not going to spend the rest of my life playing guessing games with you every time you’re in a bad mood. Now you can either talk to me or we’ll try a different approach, your choice,” he warned.
Damn, she’d wanted a little attention and now that she had it, she wished she could start the whole day over. What was she supposed to say, ‘when you don’t spank me or pay attention to my behavior I feel like you don’t love me?’ She’d sooner super glue her own lips together!
Copyright 2014 Stevie MacFarlane
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This sweet looking little baby got me in a lot of trouble. I know it's hard to believe, but this car was responsible for my very first spanking, ever!
Oh, it was a sweet ride. 1968 Gto convertible, canary yellow, black interior, bucket seats with wood grain trim, sigh. It had a 400 engine, four speed, on the floor with a Hurst shifter, (way cool), triple deuce carb and Thrush mufflers, blub, blub, blub. The posi-traction meant I could burn rubber for a half a block without even trying, and it was fast, very fast. God, I loved that car!
It was my husbands, (then boyfriend) and after a lot of begging he taught me to drive it when I was seventeen. He even taught me to power shift, which is shifting from one gear to another without using the clutch, just going by the Rpm's and the sound of the engine. Usually I drove my mother's 1966 Chevy Impala, which was okay, but nothing like the Gto. No way, that car was a man/boy magnet. I was pretty cute in those days, long blonde hair, 5'2" about 100 lbs of girly girl and I got plenty of attention when I was driving that car. The really bad thing about it was my need for speed. Seriously, I loved to race and at seventeen you're practically immortal, right? It didn't matter if it was stoplight to stoplight on the boulevard or out of town on the four lane highway, I had a thing for dusting doors.
One day, I asked if I could take him to work and use the car and he agreed. I drove him the thirty miles or so and dropped him off at the moving company he worked for, promising to be back by 5pm to pick him up. I was ecstatic! I had the car for the whole day. I had a blast. My best-friend and I spent most of the day just cruising around, taking on a few hot shots and generally enjoying ourselves. After I dropped her off, about two in the afternoon, I was idling at a stoplight on the blvd, top down, tunes cranked when a sweet little Z 28 pulled up next to me and started gunning his engine. A challenge if I ever heard one, so I smiled, gave him the eye and nodded my head. As soon as the light changed, I took off like a rocket. I don't think he was expecting me to be able to hold my own, but I blew him off three lights in a row. It was great! Turning around, I was headed back down the blvd feeling pretty proud of myself when I heard a piercing two-fingered whistle. Now that wasn't too unusual in those days and I ignored it at first, but when it happened again, I started looking around.
There, standing next to a service road was my husband. It was pretty obvious he'd witnessed the whole thing because from my vantage point he looked like 6'2", 210 lbs of royally pissed off male. I was literally shaking in my short shorts. He never said a word, just pointed to the road in front of him and walked back into the building. You see he was moving a new business in there that day, lucky me. I circled the block and parked where he pointed, figuring I was already in enough trouble. Two minutes later he came out and walked to the drivers side of the goat as I hopped over the console.
I didn't say much as he drove me home, I mean what could I say? Pulling in my drive way, I jumped from the car and hurried into the house, but he was hot on my tail, in more ways than one. While I was trying to think of something brilliant, he was pulling me into the living room, sitting on the couch and yanking me over his knees. He scolded, I screamed! Seriously, it was horrifying from the moment he pulled my shorts down. His hand was like a machine and for my first spanking ever, it was Hellascious! I swear, sometimes I don't know why I married that man. No, wait, I kinda do.
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