Writing: For whom are you creating the story…

When you lose sight of who you started writing for, it’s not hard to lose your focus and find yourself chained up with a bad case of writer’s block.

There are many days I find myself staring at a blinking cursor. If I wallow in self-pity long enough eventually I ask myself who I’m writing for? If I try to write for me, I tend to get stuck.

When I remember that I wanted to share a story with as many people as possible, that I’m not just writing to entertain myself, the juices start flowing again. I start getting excited and words start to flow.

I also remember not to edit while I’m writing and just let loose. Editing comes later. Write the bones of the story, and add the meat later.

Ever Bound (Cursed 1.5) Release

  • Apart from having some of the most controversial reviews I’ve ever received, Ever Bound has been one of my funnest releases. I loved sharing the origins if the curse, giving insight to some of Grace’s twisted background, and hopefully generating some more sympathy for Cole and Allie, who have to fight a curse through a century to be together. 
  • I touched on a lot of upsetting subjects Cole and Allie had to overcome to make it to present day in a very short book. I would have loved to give the 1879 era a full-length novel so that the events wouldn’t have seemed so rushed, but the novella Ever Bound was originally Cole’s journal written in entry form. Every entry was brash, rushed, upsetting to Cole and would also be for a reader. I am so very proud of this work. It gave insight to who Cole was before centuries of suffering overcame him and whittled him down to the tortured soul he’d become in Ever After (Cursed 1).
  • This brings me to the overcoming joy I feel in announcing next month’s release of Ever Tempted Book 2 of the Cursed Series. This book picks up where Ever After left off. Allie waits for Cole to come home, and when he does, he’s changed and his love comes with a terrible price…

Help Me Save my Miracle Kittens

About three months ago, a friend of mine and I witnessed a pregnant cat get hit by a speeding car in front of my house. Long story short, we used motherly instinct to give the recently deceased mama a c-section.

All three kittens thrived after weeks of every other hour feedings. Now, a few months later, Gracie is sick. I took her to the vet, only to have the other two kittens come down with a fever. The vet said Gracie’s temperature was 106.3. He didn’t understand why she hadn’t started seizing. So, you can imagine my fear for Peppy and Tigger.

I depleted the houshold petty cash with Gracie’s vet visit. Now, I DESPERATELY NEED HELP.


I skunt my knee…Redneck Dictionary According to my Husband


In the Southern United States, people talk much differently than any other place. We have a dialect of our own. You’ll find great examples on any television show with the words alligator, swamp, duck, or boo-boo in the title. This doesn’t mean we’re not educated.

Okay, so maybe for some of us it does, but I promise, I have to talk like this for most of the people around me to understand me, especially at work. My husband is probably the best example of the funniest English you’ve ever heard. Here’s a small list of words that I’ll add to as he says them:

Skunt: adj.- tore off skin, rubbed off painfully, abrasion. Used in a sentence: I done fell and skunt my knee.

Ahertin: adj.-is hurting. Used in a sentence: My head shore is ahertin.

Spunt: adj.-to blow or waste. Past perfect tense of spent.:) Used in a sentence: I went and spunt all my money on bows and arrows for huntin’.

Swole: adj.-swelled. Used in a sentence: I fell and skunt my knee, and now it’s all swole up.

Swoled: adj.-past perfect tense of swole. Have fun putting that in a sentence. No. Wait. I remember one: My elbow is ahertin and it’s swoled up. jk

Hambastring: n.-the muscle that runs down the back of your leg. Used in a sentence: My hamabastring is ahertin cuz I fell off the forklift and tore my britches.


Okay, that’s all I have for now. As Brant goes throughout the week and has his mishaps, I’ll tickle your fancy with some more.

Cold Turkey

Cold Turkey

Unfortunately, I’m not referring to making a sandwich (or a samwich as my husband calls it. We’re from the South, I swear he has his own dictionary. If you don’t know him well, you almost can’t understand a word he’s saying).

So, anyway, I’m considering quitting smoking cold turkey.

It’s my daughter’s fault.

She offered me the most insane idea I’ve ever heard. “Mommy, instead of spending all that money on patches that just sweat off”–the guarantee that they won’t sweat off is a total and complete lie–“Vapes that might blow up in your face, and nicotine pills that you said taste like a bad word I can’t say, why don’t you just do it the easy way. Just stop without anything.”

Rational as it may sound, especially coming from a 12-year-old child, it’s not as easy as it seems. You see the sites that offer advice on quitting don’t take into consideration the real world.

1. They say take all cigarettes around your house and dispose of them.

First of all, my husband would strangle me. (We’ve never had anything but a happy marriage, but that might very well change if I threw away his cigarettes.)

2. Stay away from everyone who smokes.

Where I’m from. Ha. Everyone smokes. I don’t feel like being a recluse.

3. Ask everyone around you not to smoke.

Again. Ha. They’d look at me as if I were dressed like Elvira. People in these parts don’t take lightly to people messing with their nicotine habits.

4. Throw away all ashtrays and butt buckets.

I’d end up cleaning up cigarette butts in the yard. Some people, I’m leaving unnamed to keep my marriage intact, wouldn’t be able to find the trash can, or would catch the trash can on fire with a butt that wasn’t completely distinguished. Then there would be the issue of a huge fire truck in my front yard hosing my house down with all my blackened belongings in it. Not a desirable outcome.

5. Call a hotline.

By the time I find my phone, I learn that it’s dead due to the teens in the house stealing my charger. Then I’m frustrated. Then I want to smoke more. Then I’m frustrated about wanting to smoke more.

Not to mention that on the hotline, I’d probably be put on hold. And who has enough will power not to pick up a cigarette during that kind of frustration.

6. Take a shower and brush your teeth and think about how wonderful it is not to smell like smoke or taste smoke.

It’s not wonderful, because I don’t have cilia in my nose to smell how good I smell and my taste buds are probably too coated in nicotine to know the difference.

So, to sum it all up, I have to hide in a hole on a remote island somewhere.

All joking aside, I want to quit, but with all these factors stacked against me, it makes it hard. I’m going to have to grow nerves of steel, and man up. Smoking kills. It’s a fact. Maybe if I can win the battle some of people in my circle might learn from some of the hardships I have to go through to quit.

I’m preparing myself now, though I know it’s going to be frustrating. I’m doing it for my health, for my kids health, and so I can see my grandchildren one day.

So, cold turkey it is.

Day One….

(to be continued–if I’m not in jail for hurting someone.:)



Ever Bound (Book 1.5 of the Cursed Series) Release

My life has been full lately, so the WordPress release for the actual release of Ever Bound Book 1.5 of my Cursed Series had to be put on a delay. I take care of two ailing parents, four children, teens I rescue, animals I rescue (c-sectioned a recently deceased cat and saved her babies–a story for another post), and work two jobs. So, needless to say, I’m a bit busy.

Ever Bound was originally a journal from Cole Kinsley’s p.o.v. that I never planned to publish, until my children read it and begged me to submit it for publication. They felt the world would love to learn in-depth details as to why my hero and heroine in Ever After had such a deadly struggle to survive. Not just in life, but in love.

So, I submitted it.

Kensington had tight deadlines, so I’ve been so overwhelmed with edits and reviews that I barely had time to breathe. The house was in shambles, my cars needed and still need a good wash, and my parents beg me to spend more time with them than just a quick stop-in to cook and clean then run. I’ve hired a cook/nanny/personal assistant who just happened to be a marketing genius. I really lucked up. Who gets all that in one person?

She is a blessing from above.

We’ve recently begun new strides to get the book in front of more faces, but it’s a feat in itself when the world of ebooks are so overran with a variety of different choices in publishing.

I’ve become a hybrid author, utilizing my publishing company and working on the side to release as many novels as possible. I hope all my hard work comes to fruition at some point. My real dream is to have my novels adapted to the big screen, but isn’t that all of us?

Enough catching up. It’s time to introduce Ever Bound:

A love as doomed as it is destined…
1879, Tennessee.  A farmhand on the vast Rollins estate, handsome young Colby Kinsley makes the mistake of his life when he becomes briefly entangled with conniving Grace Rollins, the plantation owner’s beautiful but unstable daughter. Yet matters become even more complicated when he finds himself falling truly in love with Grace’s clever younger sister, Annabeth…

Intent on escaping her darkly troubled father and her melancholy home, Annabeth is also determined to avoid Colby. Yet she is still drawn to his quick wit and many talents. And when he performs an act of astounding courage, she can no longer deny her true feelings for him…just as her sister cannot hide her jealous rage. Grace will do anything to destroy the blossoming romance—even invoke dark, powerful supernatural forces. And as her dangerous machinations begin, the passions of all three are set on a tragic course—with a conclusion that will echo across lifetimes…

I hope you enjoy this dark, twisted novel as much as I enjoyed writing it. And not to be confused, you must read Ever After to understand the terrible events that unfold in Ever Bound. Allie and Cole’s fight to be together didn’t start in the here and now. They have been fighting a malicious spirit for over a century just to spend one lifetime of happiness together. To find their happily Ever After.

Sleep. What is this odd ritual you speak of?


Most days I wake at 7AM to get kids off to school, start coffee making, and set my laptop up at the bar in the kitchen (after wiping away the leftover particles of whatever popular challenge the kids tried to video the night before ie. Cinnamon, nutmeg, oregano…) After dropping the kids at school, I come back, start a load of never ending laundry, make a cup of Italian sweet cream coffee, and begin edits on the novel of the week.

When the dryer stops, I have to restart it at least twice to dry a load of clothes. (And yes, I’ve purchased and used a lint lizard, replaced thermostats, and taken the back off the dryer. I’m sure the times my teens used it didn’t help matters, for I found a half a pencil, a popsicle stick, and some sort of car part back there. Yeah, I’m asking the same question. How the heck did those big things make it past a lint trap?)

Anyway, after a long day of back and forth between laundry and my wonderful characters, I’m exhausted. And it’s only 3PM.

Help with homework–translated: do the homework for them because kids go braindead by 4PM.

I start dinner–wash all the accumulated dishes from dinner until 5PM because teens have this uncanny talent to become invisible when dishwashing time approaches.

I do get to catch up on social media while the macaroni is boiling.

I restart the dryer for the third time because that was an effing heavy-a$$ blanket. I drink the fourth cup of coffee.

Of course, I make my own plate and holler for everyone else.

Begging someone to wash dinner dishes does no good because they forgot to do homework or wash the cat or something really, extremely important.

Bring on the dishpan hands.

From there, I yell forty-two-million times for people to get showers and find their own beds–around here they huddle in the same room to listen to music and catch up on the days’ drama until the wee hours if tomorrow morning, if I don’t become the bedtime police.

I stub my toe on a clarinet, a plate and fork someone didn’t have energy to take to the kitchen, and limp toward my bed.

When I get there, I’m too keyed up to sleep, so hours of television or reading wind me down.

Nanny 911. Feel free to stop by anytime and tell me what I’m doing wrong.

I take cell phones. I yell. I talk sweetly. If they remain in the floor after I’ve given fair warning, I throw valuables away. At wits end in Suburbia.