Vacation Sex

No Man's Land 2Why is vacation sex the best ever?

Is it the high of being in a new environment? The possibility of ordering champers and room service twenty-four by seven and never setting foot outside the hotel room? The sudden relief from the pressure of not having to go to work? Not  having to deal with the mundane, day-to-day responsibilities of life? Or, maybe the simple fact that you’re sans kids for a solitary night?

Perhaps it’s a combination of all of the above. Almost every woman I know agrees; vacation sex is the best.

One of my friends relates that from the time she awakes to the time she peels back the bed covers, every moment’s scheduled according to everyone else’s demands. First, it’s what needs to be done for the kids, then her partner, and then her boss. When she finally lies down sleep’s impossible because she’s too preoccupied composing mental to do lists for the following day.

Have we become so busy that sex is no longer a priority?

It’s now common to discover you’re no longer in a relationship not from your better half, but on Facebook or Twitter.

Exactly when did living virtually replace the physical nitty-gritty of reality?

All my fingers and toes are crossed in the hopes that the wild pendulum swing of social networking will somehow settle, and we’ll find a healthy middle ground. But I have this sinking feeling that things are going to get a heckuva lot worse before they begin to get better.

What’s your take on the topic?



Wanted: Strong, honest, sometimes mean editors

This was the week I crashed and burned as a writer. Okay, that may be a little dramatic, but the truth is this was a bad week for my (not so) illustrious writing career. Several stories back from edits (because they always come back at the same time) and needing major work.

Hey, it happens—too many irons in the fire make it hard to concentrate!

And sometimes I may rush and submit too quickly without giving a manuscript the proper read through…she admits with a rushed and mumbled voice.

So, while wallowing in the bowels of editing hell, I pulled up my big girl panties and decided I needed to remind myself of a few things…like why I love my editors.

  1. They are honest, even when it hurts. While beta readers toss a few corrections out and say how much they loved something, editors have the nerve to say, “This is really bad.” Okay, so that may sound harsh, but isn’t it better to hear that from an editor than a reader?
  2. I can’t edit my own work. I know what I mean, and so it reads okay to me. I need someone to point out that, no, it doesn’t sound okay.
  3. They have my best interests at heart. Of course they gets paid to fix my ramblings, but I’m an editor and I know what editors make. They aren’t doing this for the money. They does it because they believe in my books and want them to be the best they can possibly be.
  4. They are wise beyond reason. That may sound like a bit of ego-stroking, maybe it is, but it’s kind of true too. Editors have a lot of information crammed into the old noggin, and they put it to good use by reminding me of things like dangling modifiers are bad and…you know…other things.
  5. They keep me grounded. So some people liked my books. So what? Editors aren’t impressed. They see great books every day, they work with great writers every day. I’m not special. And they like to remind me of that.

I could probably think of a few other reasons why I love my editors, but I don’t want them to get big heads either. So, I’ll just say thanks. Thanks for reminding me that I’m not so great, I’m not so special, and sometimes I outright suck. And when I do, thank you for setting me straight and making me shine.

The Egg and I

The_Egg_(Albany,_New_York)_003No, that is not a UFO.  That is the Egg in Albany, NY, a performing arts center and convention center in the Empire State Plaza.  For those who slept through Geography in grade school, Albany is the capital of New York and is located on the Hudson River about 150 miles to the north of New York City.

And why am I telling/showing you this, you ask?

Because I spent six days there for Bouchercon 2013, the World Mystery Convention.  I have been to the state of New York before and find it to be very rural and lovely.  We took the New York State Thruway (I-90) and saw the wine country, the foothills of the Adirondacks and the Catskills, the Mohawk and Hudson Rivers, and vestiges of the Erie Canal.  Parts of the Revolutionary and French and Indian Wars were fought in the areas we passed through.  I want to go back and visit the Finger Lakes region in depth (went there with my son when he interviewed at Cornell and fell in love with the area). I could spend at least a week just touring the wineries and the local craftsman (Mackenzie-Child pottery is made here).

So, enough about New York, what about the convention?

This has to be one of my favorite conventions.  I usually do a panel that deals with either paranormal mystery/suspense or romantic suspense/mystery.  This year my panel was Temptation, the title is sort of self-explanatory.  I also do a Booze and Broads signing in the Dealer Room with special author friends courtesy of my dealer friend, Mystery Mike.  This year the B&B II consisted of me, Heather Graham, Melinda Leigh, and Tina Whittle.  All wonderful gals and authors and fellow whiskey drinkers. I posted a picture of us on FaceBook.

I also help out Mystery Mike by selling books for him– so I meet everyone.  I am getting to know the collectors on sight and many of the authors stop by to sign first editions for Mike’s stock and so I get to know them also.  I had lovely chats this year with Tess Gerritson (when she signed books)  and Anne Perry while waiting on the elevators at the hotel. Sue Grafton was there to sign W is for Wasted and she was given the Lifetime Achievement Award.  Anne was International Guest of Honor and Tess was American GOH.

I think this convention is my favorite because mystery readers never meet a stranger — these are some of the friendliest fans, authors, and publishers in the world.

Next year is in Long Beach and I will miss that one.  But 2015 is in Raleigh and 2016 is in New Orleans (I am Registration Chair for that one because the Co-Chairs Heather Graham and Connie Perry asked me and I was delighted to help them out.)  Oh and I hear 2017 is in Toronto — I’ve been to Toronto for a previous Bouchercon and had a blast (it was the con that Mystery Mike introduced me to the wonders of single malt scotch — blends were history after that).

So, if you like mystery, suspense, thrillers — please come join us.  You’ll never meet a nicer bunch of people in the world.

Photo of  the Egg, Leonard J. DeFrancisci [CC-BY-SA-3.0 ( or GFDL (, via Wikimedia Commons

You say potato……..

Recently I’ve been writing and more and more I’ve found that I’m double checking words. Not the spelling, we all know I suck at that. No, its words I take for granted that are causing the problem and it got me to thinking about all the words out there that are very typical of where you live but don’t really translate out of that area.

Now I come from North London, which in itself has phrases and words that I’m sure even other Londoners would have problems understanding.

But I think that’s what makes me love writing, not only am I creating worlds where anything can happen, but I am learning new things about places I may never have been too.

In a recent submission to a publisher I used the word “bonnet”. Right now half of you are picturing a cute little hat a lady or baby might wear, aren’t ya…… but that’s not what I meant. I was actually talking about the hood of car. A friend who was reading the draft for me, pulled me up on it. Now you can understand why more and more I’ve had to check the words I’m using.

To me they are every day speak, but to others people I sound like a nutbar more than I do normally!

Where I’m from there is such a diverse amount of ethnic groups that in our everyday language we use words from around the world. I think the UK has always been like that, one giant melting pot and I really love that.

Is there a word or phrase that you’ve read in a book that means something very different where you are from? Or are you a writer who has the same problem as me? Let me know.

On a separate note: Short stories….that’s all I’m saying…. I definitely ain’t telling ya that we might be having  a series of them on this blog soon…nope definitly not me…. I’d never do that and I’m offended you’d even suggest it!

Until next time or as they say where I’m from….let me catch ya inna piece…

Remember….. sighing dramatically when your Dom/me spanks you is just asking for trouble!

Taking a criticism, and letting it go.

It seems we are never too old to learn new things about ourselves. Not long ago, I learned I make a really bad crit partner. Oh, I think I give good criticism, constructive and respectful. However, it appears I’m not so good at receiving it.

I generally have not worked with crit partners up until recently. Perhaps I should have, I don’t know. I suppose when I entered this industry, I never really dreamed anyone would read my books, and so I kept them to myself. It was only when Liquid Silver Books said “yes” to my first book that I began to realize I could do this. And it was only a few months ago that I took on a crit partnership with a few other Liquid Silver authors. For the most part, it all went really well.

And then I received “the” criticism.

I was part of the way into my current WIP, and was still struggling with a few issues when I sent out some passages to one or two people, just so I could get their overall feelings on the book. One of the crits I received really did a number on my confidence.

Now, let me say this: the author who provided the crit said nothing disrespectful. In fact, she had some fabulous points and expressed them with honesty. However, one of her points was that the heroine was completely unlikable and demonstrated few redeeming qualities.

Whoa. Back to square one.

I continued writing and revising this work, but the crit bore a hole in my head and I couldn’t let it go. I began reading between my own lines. I started to dislike my own characters, and doubted the story I needed to tell. All of a sudden, the whole thing seemed unusable. I was ready to dump it.

I had to remind myself: this is one person’s opinion. I hear people express their opinions everyday, and they don’t always jive with mine. So why would this one sting so much?

Perhaps the other author was correct and I didn’t like admitting it. After careful consideration, I set about making some improvements to the piece, and it is better. Even still, I hear the words of that crit every day in my head and worry about the story. I worry about submitting it. I worry about subsequent reviews. I worry, worry, worry.

I finally took the email with the criticism, read it one last time to learn what I could, and deleted it. I felt a lot better after that. After all, a person can only dwell on a negative thought for so long. Eventually, one has to believe and have faith in one’s talent and work.

I reread the manuscript and found passages that made me smile. I revisited my troublesome heroine, and realized there was a lot to admire in her. And I love my hero. This book will work.

So many times in life, we receive messages that we don’t want to hear or accept. That’s normal. Hearing them is one thing, but letting them go is another. At the end of the day, I remembered how I got to this spot in my life, and realized my stories have an audience. I don’t want to let that audience down. I work to craft the best book I can, and hope it floats. I’ve learned that when someone has a negative comment about my work, I need to absorb and use whatever is useful to me. After that, I say “thank you” and to allow it to drift away into the stratosphere.

Criticism can be wonderful, but we need to wear our thick skin when receiving it. After all, none of us is perfect. We can all improve on our work. I thank the author who gave me that critique. I did learn a lot about my writing from it.

However, in retrospect, I think I learned even more about myself.

Growing up in the South

Growing up in the South was quite an experience. With acres and acres of land to roam, trees to climb, and the ever-present humidity, you haven’t lived “rural” until you’ve come to my neck of the woods. And contrary to popular belief, we all don’t grow our beards and hunt ducks!

Summers were always my favorite. Not only could I catch up on non-school-required reading, but there were peas and butterbeans to shell (and EAT!), ponds to swim in, and go-karts to ride.  I could also catch up on my “stories”, otherwise known as soap operas. My brothers, my cousins, and I would hike the back fields, build forts, and pick plums and bullices (scumplins) straight off the tree/vine.

But probably the absolute best thing about growing up in Alabama was the rivers. There’s tons of fishing in my area, thanks mostly to Tom Mann Outdoors. Not that I do much fishing, but swimming and picnics waterside were the perfect ending to the long, hot, humid days.

Being a proud Southerner, it’s no wonder so many of my books take place in the southeastern United States. A Hot Mess, Christmas Spirits, and Overnight Sensation had characters based in Georgia. Some Kind of Trouble and A Touch of Sin take place in good ole ‘Bama.

My latest release, Just Right, moved up to Memphis, Tennessee. The center of soul and Elvis, Memphis is like Los Angeles of the South. I once visited Memphis for a concert. (*NSYNC. Shouldn’t come as a surprise since my love of the former pop band is well documented.) Going to the Peabody, Beale Street, Graceland, and the Pyramid were highlights of my vacation. I also got to enjoy the yummy offerings from B.B. King’s Café. (Try the chili. Trust me!) I’m happy to say that many of my favorite tourist attractions made their way into Sadie and Jason’s story.

I know many of my fellow LL&L ladies have either lived or now live in the South. So today I want to hear what’s some of ya’ll’s (It’s a word I swear!) favorite cities and memories.

Just a blurb…

Finally! I know some of you have been (not so) patiently waiting for the back cover blurb for Shadow of Sin. It’s official – got the seal of approval from my editor so…here it is!

Let the countdown begin. 49 days and counting…

ShadowofSin_final_1600x2400A man determined to protect her…

Caleb Martin is no stranger to hazardous situations. He’s seen enough bloodshed to last two lifetimes. When an innocent evening takes a dangerous turn, Caleb takes matters into his own hands. If she wants his help, it’s his rules, his way. Period.

A woman who won’t be controlled…

When it comes to relationships, Samantha keeps things casual, unassuming. Safe. Caleb Martin is far from safe. His ‘my way or the highway’ attitude pushes all the wrong buttons, and she’d sworn no man would have that kind of power over her again.

A hunger that won’t be denied…

Protecting Samantha from the man that stalks her shouldn’t test his patience—or his control—but her smart mouth and hot Irish temper stoke the fuel of his desire. She is pure sin—a distraction he doesn’t need, a temptation he can’t resist.

Despite their animosity, Caleb has starred in her fantasies for years. His ruthless sensuality proves to be more potent than she ever imagined. As Caleb masters her body, Samantha must keep a tight grip her heart.

Are you excited yet?

Until next time…


The Toy Chest

So, as I get ready for the release of Hostile Beauty in October, I am actually reminding myself to call it by name and not “Two Men and a Vibrator,” which was my nickname for the manuscript while I was writing it. Which got me thinking about the scene which gave it the nickname, and then the use of sex toys in romance.

The first time I ever read a scene with a sex toy in it, it was a historical and the hero used a dildo with the heroine. Carved out of ivory or marble or something expensive sounding.  I can’t remember the name of the book (it was years ago–maybe even high school, y’all), but that scene still stands out in my mind. To my innocent young mind, it was a little shocking. I mean, he had his magic peen right there, why was he using a toy?

Clearly, I had much to learn about sex and romance. Sure, now I know it can be a way for the characters to connect and enjoy each other’s bodies in a different way. But back then, the idea was a revelation.

As my tastes in romance fiction grew more varied, I discovered there were lots of types of toys at play in romance stories. Not just dildos, but vibrators and plugs, cock cages and rings, crops and floggers, cuffs and scarves, oh my! Not to mention all the many spectacularly clever ways romance Doms have used ordinary household objects to bind up a naughty submissive. I love when an author gets creative with toys and props!

So, tell me, readers, how do you feel about sex toys in stories? Do you have a favorite toy-enhanced romance to recommend? Let us know in the comments!

In the mean time, I’ll leave you with a snippet from Two Men and a–erm. Hostile Beauty, that is. A contemporary retelling of Beauty and the Beast, coming Oct. 18 from Musa Publishing.

In the shower, Levi soaped up his hands, spreading them over Andrew’s sweaty shoulders.

“I can’t believe you sexted me while I was having dinner with David,” he murmured, running a hand down to cup Andrew’s ass.

“I’m bummed you didn’t text back after the second picture. The next one was going to be my ass.”

Levi damn near choked at that. “You mean I missed this ass?” He squeezed it. The curve of it was firm, perfect. How many squats would a man have to do to have an ass like that?

“Three sets of eight to ten with heavy weights twice a week for the last fifteen years.” When Andrew answered him, Levi realized he must have marveled out loud over it.

“Your hard work paid off,” he said dryly.

“Yeah? The sight of my ass give you any ideas?” Andrew turned around and gripped Levi’s cock in a slick, soapy fist.

“Oh yeah.” Levi grinned. “Every idea.” He rocked forward into Andrew’s hand. “But that feels pretty good too.”

Andrew wrapped one strong hand behind Levi’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss. It started sort of sloppy, with the water spray from the shower splashing between them, but as Andrew maneuvered Levi around until his back pressed against the wall, the brunt of the spray hit Andrew’s back and the kiss gentled, becoming slow and sweet. All the while, that hand on the back of Levi’s neck squeezed in counterpoint to the one stroking his cock. He felt adored, worshipped by Andrew’s hands and mouth, and every part of that strong touching and tempting and teasing. He squeezed Andrew’s ass with his hands, thoughts of blowjobs slipping away.

“I want to be inside you,” he groaned against Andrew’s lips, pushing his cock into Andrew’s hand for emphasis.

“Here?” Andrew looked around the shower, his expression clearly nervous.

“Never done it in a shower before?” Levi asked, rubbing Andrew’s shoulders gently. “We can go to bed. Are you okay with this, you’re on board?”

“Oh yeah.” Andrew grinned. “A dildo only holds so much appeal. After twenty years…I’m ready.”

Levi’s brain short-circuited as he pictured Andrew spread out on the bed fucking his own ass with a dildo. Fuck.

“You have a dildo?”

“I have more than one.” Andrew shrugged. “A guy has needs.”

“I’m aware. I just. Wow, can I see it?”

Andrew laughed. “You want to see…”

“I want to see you use it. Your favorite one. And then I want to fuck you.”

Release Day for Fire in the Smokies!

It’s release day for Fire in the Smokies! This is the second book in my Durham Wolves series, published with Samhain Publishing. I’m excited about this series and love the response I’ve gotten from it. Thanks to all the fans who are enjoying my trio of wolf brothers and their mates as they battle the local vampire fighting for the mountain territory.

The third book in this series releases at Christmas and I shall be working to add to the series in the early part of next year.

Here is a blurb and excerpt from today’s release, Fire in the Smokies.


His commands ignite flames in her that rival any forest fire…

When Jaxon Durham isn’t raising thoroughbreds with his brothers, he’s using his heightened senses to search for missing hikers in the Smokies. This time the call is for a firefighter gone missing on the front lines.

In his wolf form, he’s the first to track the firefighter to a cave, but he’s stopped cold by a stunning realization—it’s his mate. To his relief, the body covered in fireproof gear is female.

Brianna White can’t decide if she’s died and gone to heaven, or unconscious and having a delicious dream, when the wolf standing before her shifts into a naked man. Either way, she can’t resist the urge to go along for the ride. She never expected to fall so instantly, and so hard, for the sexy hunk.

But an old enemy is lurking beyond the walls of their refuge. The clock is ticking while Jaxon races to evade the deadly threat, even deadlier flames, and overcome the stubborn will of a woman who’s not sure she’s ready to give up life as she knew it.

Warning: Dark, sexy wolves in the Appalachians evoke steaming sex in a cave, light bondage and dominance, various plugs and vibrators, and an interesting masturbation chamber…


Locking his gaze and attention on the opening between the rocks, Jaxon jumped over a few downed trees and bounded into the first cave.

Darkness consumed him, but it would be momentary. His eyes would adjust to the lack of light. In no time he’d see almost as well as outside. One of the perks of being lupine. He saw fantastically in the night.

Dropping the pouch from his mouth, Jaxon lifted his head and took a deep breath. Immediately he dropped his gaze and blinked. His eyes burned from the smoke he’d run through. His vision had not yet cleared.

He panted, letting his tongue hang out. One thing was clear. There was most assuredly a human in this cave.

And…that human was his mate.

Jaxon couldn’t move. He couldn’t see yet either. And that aggravated him more than anything. His ears were ringing, keeping him from concentrating.

Was his mate the missing firefighter? A man?

He backed up a step. Took several short breaths. His head twitched back and forth as though in denial. He couldn’t stop it. He’d never once considered himself attracted to men. Maybe there was a woman in the cave also? Another deep inhale.

Nope, one scent. Faint, but just the one. Not particularly identifiable.

God, let there be someone else hiding in a cave today besides a fireman.

A missing hiker? What were the chances?

His vision began to clear. He blinked back the smoky film causing him to squint and stepped farther into the cave.

Do I have some latent subconscious tendencies toward men I was unaware of? Why on earth would my mate be a man?

A gasp made him jerk his gaze to the left. Movement. Shuffling. Deep wheezing breaths. A flash of yellow. More movement. Scampering.

Jaxon approached gingerly. His paws made almost no sound as he inched forward. He stopped.

The fireman sat, hunkered really, against the wall. His boots scraped the hard-packed ground in front of him in desperation as if he could perhaps push himself through the solid rock behind his back if he could get enough purchase.

Jaxon tipped his head to one side. His brain scrambled. The fireman was covered from head to toe with flame-retardant clothing. Soot covered the yellow, almost completely obscuring any evidence of color. Even his face was covered—goggles, a mask, helmet.

No wonder Jaxon could barely scent the man.

He hesitated. Considered running from his destiny. What the hell was he going to tell his brothers? His mate was a fireman? Could he be mistaken?

Crap. Jaxon suddenly focused on his error. He was in wolf form. The guy was freaking petrified because a wolf had entered his hideout. Jaxon had been so focused on finding evidence of a human in the area, he hadn’t thought further. Adrenaline pumping, he’d concentrated only on the remote hope someone was alive in this cave.

And here he was, standing on four paws, staring down a fireman as though he intended to eat him.

Jaxon shivered, shook his entire body as he would after being caught in the rain.

He had to shift before the man had a heart attack. This wasn’t the way he ever planned to reveal himself to anyone. Hell, he’d never shifted in front of another human in his life, with the exception of Sergius’s mate, Juliana.

It couldn’t be helped. And besides, whatever weirdness fate had in store for him right now, he might as well get the whole I’m-a-wolf-shifter-and-you’ll-have-to-get-over-it thing out of the way now.

Jaxon didn’t take his eyes off the frightened firefighter. Bones popped, limbs lengthened, hair receded. In moments Jaxon stood before the man, naked…and human.

The fireman didn’t move a muscle. He appeared to not even be breathing.

Jaxon cleared his throat. “Sorry. There was no other way.” He knelt in front of the man and held his hands out, palms up. What difference did it make that he was naked? It wasn’t as though the guy hadn’t seen a c*ck before…

“I think you can breathe in here right now. The air isn’t too bad.” Jaxon reached for the man’s protective helmet with slow calculated movements. He didn’t want to scare the guy to death, but he did want to see what was under the hardhat.

Jaxon’s hand shook more than he would have liked as he tugged the helmet off. “I didn’t mean to…reveal myself like that. I wasn’t thinking when I came barreling in here looking for you. I—”

Jaxon froze with the helmet held in midair. Holy mother of God.

Suddenly the firefighter wasn’t the only one not breathing. Jaxon could feel his heart beating, but he didn’t think he’d ever be able to inhale again in this lifetime.

Long blond curls fell from the helmet seemingly in slow motion. They cascaded down until they sprang back, bouncing as though they belonged in a photo shoot for some feminine shampoo. Emphasis on the word feminine.

The helmet slipped from Jaxon’s fingers and landed on the hard ground with a loud clatter. He swallowed. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.

Synapses fired from one side of his head to the other as he made sense of the picture in front of him.

This was no fireman. This was a woman.

And she still wasn’t breathing. And his d*ck thanked God she was a she and sprang to life. And, oh…he was naked.

Jaxon licked his lips and reached for her protective goggles. His hands shook considerably more than they had moments ago as he lifted the eyewear off her face and stared into her deep blue eyes. Huge eyes. Frightened eyes.

“Oh, God. I thought…” Jaxon let the goggles fall from his hand. A lock of silky hair caught in his fingers and he let the tresses dangle between them as they cascaded to her shoulders.

He let go with a start, as though she’d shocked him. “Wow, umm…” He abruptly stood and turned away.

Hastily he retraced his steps back to the entrance to the cave. Hands trembling, he grabbed his pack and yanked it open. His fingers quickly found his jeans. He shook the denim free of the pouch and stepped into them with more haste than he’d ever donned clothing in his life. In fact, he hobbled a bit on each leg as he tried to maintain his balance on one foot and then the other. His c*ck grew larger by the second, knowing his mate sat behind him. Jaxon didn’t bother with the button. The partially raised zipper would have to suffice for now.

When he turned back around he found his mate still sitting in the same spot. He doubted she’d even blinked yet.

Soot covered her face, having found its way in between the edges of her helmet and mask. The only clean area was the figure-eight space where the goggles had rested.

Jaxon approached slower this time. “Sorry for the…” God, what was he supposed to say? Sorry to shift in front of you? Sorry I was naked? Sorry to inform you we are destined to spend our lives together?


Top 5 Ugliest Animals in the World!

blog - blobfishDid you know that there is an organization called the Ugly Animal Preservation Society? Yup. I’m not kidding. The group not only exists, but last week the group published a list of the 5 ugliest animals in the world. The sole purpose of the Ugly Animal Preservation Society is to highlight those ‘aesthetically challenged’ creatures in danger of becoming extinct. According to the group’s president, the panda gets too much attention. 🙂

The list sparked discussions among animal-lovers and haters alike and several blogs posted their own ugly top five. Some of the pictures are incredible and most of the creatures were totally unknown to me.

The Blobfish (above) won top billing, and these are some of the runners up:

blog - ugly aye-aye


The Aye-Aye is endangered in its native land of Madagascar. The natives of the island believe the poor little creatures are evil omens and kill them on the spot. I think it’s kind of cute in a weird way.



blog - uglychinese-crested-hairless-dog

The Chinese Crested Hairless Dog. Miss Ellie, pictured at right, is actually a celebrity on the Ugly Animal pageant circuit. Go figure.

blog - uglycelestial-eyed-gold-fish




The Celestial Eyed Goldfish. Can you imagine an aquarium filled with these little buggers? *shudder* Relaxing wouldn’t be the emotion invoked by watching these fish, for me anyway.




blog - uglystar-nosed-mole



The Star Nosed Mole didn’t make the top three. Myself, I think it should have won! No way I’d want to encounter one of these beasts.



All the pictures are courtesy of the Daily News and the Ugly Animal Society. For a list of the Top 20 Ugliest Animals, click on this link:

Here are a couple of other lists:

What has this to do with a romance blog? I’m going to use one of the beauties on the top 20 lists in my next paranormal romance. Check out the three lists and tell me which one you think I should pick.

Has anyone ever seen any of these uglies up close and personal? What a way to begin the week, eh? I feel positively beautiful in comparison.



Halloween’s a-comin’!

Halloween is fast approaching. Yay! I love Halloween. I love the fun it represents. I love the good-natured spookiness. I love dressing up and pretending to be someone else for a night. Hell, I even love tossing candy at the little critters that come knocking on my door.

I’m not big on super scary. I don’t like jump out of the dark and scare people stuff. I don’t like gory horror movies. I definitely don’t like being truly scared.

Even with all my love for the day, I have never written anything for the holiday (kinda silly calling Halloween a holiday, isn’t it?).

Until now. My sweet romantic writing alter ego, Marci Boudreaux, has taken on Halloween in a way that is completely different for us. She has written a paranormal short story The Legend of Sarah Latham which will be released in October via Musa Publishing.

I don’t have an exact date just yet, because this was kind of a last minute acceptance thing, but it is coming next month and I am really excited to see what people think of it.

This is a free read to celebrate my love of Halloween. I’ll be sure to shout out the release date when I get one! Until then, I hope enjoy the blurb and the trailer!


Nearly four hundred years ago, Sarah Latham and William Fuller disappeared without a trace.

Legend has it she was a wicked witch and he was her demon. Legend also has it that whenever a Latham descendent reaches thirty years of age, Sarah comes to drag them to Hell.

Good thing twenty-nine year old Elizabeth Latham doesn’t believe in legends. Or at least she didn’t until she happened upon a woman in the family cemetery who just happened to look an awful lot like the paintings in the local museum.

Elizabeth is determined to stay ground in reality, but her idea of reality is shattered when she realizes Sarah and William have returned. But Elizabeth quickly realizes that Sarah is about as far from wicked as William is from being a demon.

So if Sarah hasn’t been killing generations of Lathams…who has?