Although, I’ve done this publishing thing a time or two, but I’ll tell everyone, or anyone who asks don’t use me as an example for this writing game. Everyone has their process—what works for them. I’ve told the story before, but it bears repeating, when I was eight I wrote the worst poem in literary history, but my love of writing formed. My mother wanted me to grow up to be an investigative journalist. We both quickly realized I wasn’t diplomatic enough for it. Although she was sure she’d see me on TV one day she just hoped it wasn’t in handcuffs. My Evil One aka Mommie Dearest aka Lifegiver always had the sweetest opinion of my personality.
But I digress. I grew up loving the written word, the way authors compose these perfectly imperfect symphonies of words, sentences, and paragraphs. Authors who paint mentally picturesque landscapes for us to disappear into. I’ve written before that I jotted down short stories in my notebooks with the dream of publishing a story someday. Anne Rice, Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Patterson, I wanted to see my name on the cover of a book gracing the shelves of a bookstore. My dad’s parents were voracious readers and I spent weekends at their house growing up. Every night it became a habit to curl up before going to sleep and read. I read everything from pulp detective novels to true crime serial killers. I was way too young for those types of stories, but my love of reading wasn’t stilted because of that.
Saturday, January 11, 2020
Saturday, January 4, 2020
Romance Body Positivity and Diversity in 2020: a Short Essay
Let me back up a few years and tell you where it all started, I came out as lesbian later in life. I lived with my internalized homophobia. I lived with these words in my head it’s good for everyone else but that’s just not me. While I choked on my jealousy of others being out and proud. I self-destructed on whatever drugs I could make disappear up my nose or however much alcohol I could get down until I reached the bliss of blackouts. I make no apologies for the past. I can’t change what I’ve done; all I can do is accept it and pledge to myself to do better.
For decades of my life I was too fat, too depressed, too manic or whatever the fuck the weekly stigma was to elicit self-loathing. I wrote my dreams on the lined pages of well-worn notebooks. Swearing to myself that I’d never share the stories I hid. Then one day I started posting them anonymously online. Saving myself from the inevitable trolling that the internet is famous for.
For decades of my life I was too fat, too depressed, too manic or whatever the fuck the weekly stigma was to elicit self-loathing. I wrote my dreams on the lined pages of well-worn notebooks. Swearing to myself that I’d never share the stories I hid. Then one day I started posting them anonymously online. Saving myself from the inevitable trolling that the internet is famous for.
Friday, December 6, 2019
#Debut #NewRelease Little Love by Siobhan Smile
Little Love
An Age Play Romance
by Siobhan Smile
Blurb:
When the perfect little stumbles into your life, what are you to do?Lindy Rubin performed every task per her strict routine. She was speeding towards forty and becoming bored with her orderly life. When she began to assess the emptiness of her personal life, she hadn't expected the surprise destined to arrive. Was it fate that brought her a beautiful girl with teary, azure eyes to her doorstep? If so, who was she to deny her Little Love help in her moment of need?
(This title contains elements of Age Play & Domestic Discipline (D/s), if you find those subjects objectionable this isn't the book for you.)
#NewRelease Virgin - A Dark Billionaire Romance - Shanna Handel
Virgin – A Dark Billionaire Romance - Book 4
By Shanna Handel
Synopsis:
Yesterday I’d never been kissed. Today every inch of me belongs to him.
I didn’t ask for a guardian, but it wasn’t up to me.
I disobeyed him, just to see what he would do.
Then I found out what happens to bad little girls.
Tuesday, July 16, 2019
New Release Warmth of his Light by Frey Ortega
Blurb:
When Eos Hawthorne went to meet a
friend one evening, he never expected his entire life to change. As if
stumbling across a group of men fighting in an abandoned lot by his home wasn’t
shocking enough—one of those men suddenly attacks him...with fangs and claws.
Vampire coven leader Julien Blanchard
is having a bad day. After failing to apprehend a murderer and traitor to his
coven, the absolute last thing he needed was a hapless human stumbling into the
picture— especially an intriguing young man who, as it turns out, happens to be
his mate.
Eos doesn't know if he believes in
mating, and knows nothing about the supernatural world he is suddenly thrust
into. Julien is a vampire who has always put his coven and his duty first.
Will their burgeoning love be enough
to see Eos safely through the dangers he finds himself in? And even more so,
can it make the cold-blooded Julien relinquish control and embrace Eos, and the
warmth of his light?
Warmth of His Light is
the first book of the Blanchard Coven series. It is M/M, HEA, and complete at
61,287 words.
Available for Kindle Unlimited
Excerpt:
Eos took a couple of steps back, almost as
though he were right there in the midst of the action. He didn’t see anything
else but the indistinct silhouette of bodies moving that he’d forgotten about
the alley behind him, thinking he was about to get slashed at. Eos took a
couple of steps back…and managed to hit his back loudly against what seemed to
be a rather empty dumpster with a loud clang.
Well, it was mostly empty—except for a cat that gave an irritated yowl at being
disturbed. It promptly sprung out at Eos, surprising him and making him jump.
“Shit!” Eos cussed. He twisted away, but
his center of gravity was messed up by the sudden cat-attack and the fact that
he had forgotten there was even a dumpster there at all. Eos fell flat on his
rear right beside the dumpster…which he now noticed was leaking underneath.
But
thank God I didn’t trip into the puddle of…whatever the hell that is. Eos wretched, fighting down the urge to barf.
Eos grimaced and not just because of the
unidentified liquid dripping from underneath the dumpster that he was almost about to touch. Maybe the worst
thing about this entire situation was that he had dropped his burger and soda,
and now they were all over the concrete floor. Little cubes of ice splattered
all over the now-very-wet pavement, some of which soaked into the wrapper of
the once-pristine burger. He furrowed his eyebrows and frowned as he looked at
what was supposed to be a nice little midnight snack.
“What a waste,” he muttered, and wobbled up
to his feet. Eos checked himself for any scrapes or wounds, but aside from a
sore butt and a bruised ego at being caught unaware by a cat, he was fine.
When Eos looked up, however, he’d noticed
that the men he was eavesdropping on had stopped whatever they were doing and
were now looking at him. Now, with their eyes trained on him, he could actually
see their features more clearly.
They all suddenly had crimson-colored eyes,
the color of blood, and the only reason Eos noticed was because they shone for
the briefest moment when they trained their eyes on him. Didn’t one of them
have blue eyes, earlier? And another had green ones, the color of forest
foliage. The lanky one who was being surrounded had his teeth bared. No, not
teeth—fangs.
Eos gulped. “Holy shit.”
Not only were the men blurs when they moved
and fought, but they were…demonic blurs. Beastly blurs. Sexy, unsettling,
demonic blurs.
That’s when he realized that the lanky,
cornered man—with the eyes of a blood-crazed beast, the fangs of a demon, and
the frenzy of an animal with nothing to lose—had broken through the three of
them, and was now running straight for Eos.
As Eos closed his eyes and curled into a
ball, one final thought came into his head…
I
knew I shouldn’t have left the house today.
About the Author:
Frey Ortega
writes erotic romance, primarily of the gay variety. He lives in what a friend
affectionately calls “the south-easternmost part of Spain,” which is an
archipelago called the Philippines. He’s a graduate of the Royal, Pontifical,
and Catholic University in Manila, with a Bachelors of Science degree in
Psychology. Primarily, he works as a writer, a novelist, sometimes a video game
journalist, and overall a homebody who spends way too much time on the
internet.
He loves writing about people, especially people of all different shapes, sizes and backgrounds, falling in love. You might also find him playing video games from time to time! His favorite ones are MMORPGs, and role-playing games in general (and not just the ones in the bedroom.)
Visit his website at: http://www.freyortegawrites.com/
He loves writing about people, especially people of all different shapes, sizes and backgrounds, falling in love. You might also find him playing video games from time to time! His favorite ones are MMORPGs, and role-playing games in general (and not just the ones in the bedroom.)
Visit his website at: http://www.freyortegawrites.com/
Follow him on
social media:
Sunday, February 24, 2019
Bipolar & the Seven Deadly Sins: A Manic Essay
The first panic attack I
ever remembered having I think I was around twelve. The details of the triggers
or the event itself are hazy. But, oh, how I remember my current ones. I lose
time as if I’m outside myself. My brain a misfiring of billions of neurons, I
recognize them for the way my skin feels. It’s like it’s not…mine. Foreign and
cumbersome, almost like a cheap suit that’s too tight and the legs too short.
Millions of bugs crawling beneath my skin. I pick, scratch, attempt to hurt
myself for it to go away. It’s only when I skip my count, my prayer beads don’t
spin as smoothly as I roll them between trembling thumb and forefinger that the
rage starts.
Hallucinations form with
the building crescendo of every labored breath—each more ragged and painful
than the one before it. Time ceases and I’m frozen, skinning the flesh from my
arm, setting myself on fire, removing fingers, and driving 100 miles per hour
into oncoming traffic and it doesn’t stop. Seconds, minutes, maybe an hour goes
by and I’m back, yet always a piece missing. I know I should feel terrified,
no, horrified at what my mind devises for me. Yet I’m not.
Wednesday, January 30, 2019
#New Release Picking Up the Pieces - #Excerpt
Blurb:
I'm Noah Linkletter,
and I'm broken.
Shattered, really—and
I've been trying my best to ignore my problems by chasing temporary highs
wherever I can find them. I put my makeup on and dance my way through a club,
and by night's end, I find a man who's willing to indulge in a little act of
sin to help me forget the demons in my own head.
It only takes one
moment for my entire world to turn upside down. I'm left bloody and beaten, but
even through the haze I meet him.
Farid Hassan.
A man who is strong and
intimidating yet calm and patient. A man who wants me, despite my demons. A man
so wonderful, he's willing to help pick me up the pieces.
Maybe he'll succeed.
Available for Kindle Unlimited
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