Something a little sensual for your Saturday

OK… this is more than I could post for SSS, so I thought I’d give a little taste here.  It’s pretty dirty.  It involves lots of blood.  It’s my new vampire story, Bloodflower…


The streaks of blood were a map to her center and he followed it without hesitation.

Her sex was so smooth.  He reached out to touch it, gathering some of the blood that had collected in the corner of his mouth and using it to paint around her opening, then licking it away until she was arching up against his mouth, begging him for more.  He was more than willing and pulled the outer lips of her sex between his lips to kiss each one in turn.  Pulling back, he admired the glow of her skin as the blood rushed to the surface. With two fingers, her pulled and tugged at the dewy petals until they were plumped with it.

“Seth…” she sighed, her voice trailing off into an unintelligible moan as he took each side into his mouth in turn, rolling the moist flesh between his lips, careful not to bite.  As he teased them, they began to part, revealing those secret destinations deep inside.  His fingertips were all too willing to help
them along, pulling the lips wide apart and flicking the swollen nub of flesh
that was carefully hidden behind.  Willow’s breath was slow, coming in shallow gasps as he kissed and nibbled at it.  She could feel the moist heat rush to her sex and she struggled to pull her legs further apart to urge him on, but still, every movement was a struggle as the venom crept slowly through her system.  As he kissed at the tiny clitoris, his fingertips slid up her body, swirling in the pools of blood still dripping from her breasts and belly.  She
looked down, watching as he brought the fingers to his lips, tasting the blood
and then pushing the fingers forcefully into her sex.  He moved them inside in gentle circles, then stroking them in and out until her blood mixed with the slippery wetness of her sex.  He lapped it up like a man dying of thirst.  Willow’s voice rose in octaves, higher and higher as she surrendered to the pleasure of his foreplay.  The loss of blood had made her delirious,
sighing and crying out of her head.  He twisted his wrist slightly, pushing two of his slip-sliding, long and sinuous fingers into her until he could feel that secret place high up within.   His thumb made wide circles around her clit
until he could feel her tensing with her impending climax.  She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t make a sound.  Just as she tumbled over the
edge, he sank his teeth into the vein that pulsed just below the skin at the
junction of her thighs.  She screamed with the orgasmic pleasure and the ultimate anguish as he drank deeply, pulling her lifesblood into him, not wanting to leave a single drop.  She screamed, knowing this was the end but
she didn’t care.  Her whole life was reduced to the pinpoint of light she could see behind her eyes as he made her come.

And then it was dark.


Take THAT, Edward Cullen….

So you think it’s hot enough??

Six Sentence Sunday: Bloodflower

Good morning, ladies and germs!  I hope that your weekend has been full of smut and excitement.  It’s now time to settle down with our coffee and indulge that most guilty of pleasures:  Six Sentence Sunday.  Now kittens, I know I’ve been away for a few weeks, but now I’m back in writing form and giving you a tiny morsel of a vampire tale I like to call… Bloodflower.


“Dying is a peaceful repasse,” she whispered letting her idle fingers stroke through the messy piles of his hair.  “A way to stop the pain.”

Seth chuckled darkly.  “Are you willing to take that chance, love?  Who knows what lies beyond this mortal cage?”  Lifting his head, he brushed the smooth skin of his cheek against hers, relishing the sensation of skin against skin.  He breathed against her, his scent and serpentine movement hypnotizing her almost immediately.  “A cold, dreamless sleep from which you cannot wake.”


Rawwr… that Seth is something else.  He can come feast on my flesh anytime.  Now, don’t forget boys n’ girls… you must go sample the other SSS offerings.  And don’t forget to leave a comment or two.

As for more of ME (hehehe)… you can find my books


or here….

or even here….

See you soon, everyone!

Available Now at Amazon!

Guest blogging and Coffee Night, the Sequel!

Hello boys n’ girls!  Its Saturday morning and I have officially survived the first week of school! I have the sweetest little class and I’m so happy to be their teacher this year.  I know… that sounds weird coming from foul-mouthed little me.  But I do love being a teacher, even when its frustrating.

Speaking of frustration… I can’t seem to make it over to see Fright Night this weekend.  I must remedy that.  I mean, I don’t like Colin Ferrell– despite his Irish accent.  I dunno why, but he always looks dirty to me.  But what do I know, I prefer Cillian Murphy.  Or as my sister Jess refers to him, “that Irish girl.”  But what can I say– I have  a thing for big blue eyes, sharp cheekbones and accents. But I digress.  I really want to see Fright Night this weekend.  It just looks so good and gory and fun.  PLUS, it has Dr. Who in guyliner.  The good news is, my good friend Siobhan Kincade and I are going to get to spend a day writing today.  I just love taking off for the coffeeshop with my laptop.  Its probably my favorite thing to do.  I know– NERD.

In other news, my unofficial blog tour continues today at the awesome Mary Quast’s blog— I’ll be talking about the connection between sex and fear, along with a very hot snippet of an oldie, but goodie by me, Hellsong.

Available NOW from Sugar and Spice Press!

Thiswas my very first novel that I released last October– and still, I feel, the best thing I’ve ever written.  It has some definite elements of horror along with some very sexy scenes between an angel and a demon.  So be sure to come on over and see me!

Alright, no more blogging for me.  Its back to the old writing grindstone.  I hope to have two more submissions by the end of the month.  Nothing but work, work, work for me.  See ya later, kittens!

Slow Write… Take it Easy…

Yes, its a horrible reference to that horrible Foghat song.  But right now… its true.  I’ve never been what one would consider a fast writer.  I hear other writers talking about their double-digit word counts in a day and I feel like a slacker.  And I know I do things while I write that I probably shouldn’t do.  Anyone who is my facebook friend can always tell when I’m distracted during a writing session.  I end up spending hours commenting on others’ posts, being clever and reading other people’s blog posts.  Yesterday it got so bad that I was crawling youtube looking for ridiculous video clips and posting them to my wall.  On the upside, I did manage to add 1,000 words to my current work in progress.  But despite my slacking on facebook, I think I’ve discovered why it takes me so long to get the words out.  Other than the things I’ve already mentioned.  I’m an obsessive wordsmith.  I can’t bring myself just to slap down words without thinking about how they sound.  I read every sentence over to make sure that the words flow together.  Its always been my feeling that writing should be pleasing to read as well as rich with plot and characterization.  Therefore, I spend a lot of time making sure that it “sounds right.”  But then of course, there’s the blogging and stuff that I find myself falling into as well…

That being said, I’m going to shut up and go off to work now.  However, I thought I’d give you a little excerpt of my new release, Second Skin that’s going to be arriving on the internets on August 20th.  For those of you that didn’t read my SSS post on Sunday, Second Skin is the story of a woman who meets the man of her dreams at a party and then realizes that she’ll do anything to keep him.  Its about hot sex and obsessive love– two of my favorite things….


He carried me swiftly over the wet sand to the outcropping of rocks at the Point, usually hidden by the crashing of the high tides.  How fitting that he should lay me upon this place that most of the time was covered by the sea.  Our secret little place where all evidenceand guilt would be washed away by the undertow.  I whimpered, apprehensive about the jagged edges of the rocks against my back, but they were amazingly smooth and cool against my overheated skin.  He looked back towards the house to be certain that we were alone before he knelt over my reclined body.  His movements were fluid as he opened the
small pearl button just over my bellybutton, and then leaned over to kiss the exposed flesh.  My whole body quivered
with lust and apprehension.  He opened my shirt, nosing under the fabric and kissing every bit of skin as he revealed it
inch by agonizing inch.  When he reached my breasts, they felt swollen, trapped painfully in the imposing satin and lace.  There was a hungry look in his eye as he stared down at me and I wasn’t sure if he wanted to kiss me or devour me.  Feeling self-conscious, I slid my hands across my breasts, hiding them in my hands.   He made a noise somewhere between a growl and a moan and took my wrists, pulling my hands away from my chest and pinning them at my sides.  “Never hide your body from me, A grá.”

I started to respond, but the words blurred into a moan as his mouth closed over the curve of my breast.  Using the tip of his tongue, he traced warm, wet patterns over the pale skin and I could feel my nipples, beading almost painfully as he lapped at them like a hungry beast devouring its prey.  I wanted to stretch, to force more of my breast into his mouth, but he
held me so tightly, his fingertips squeezing the tiny bones of my wrist until I felt bruised—marked.  The thought made me
shudder and I moaned again.  I wanted him to mark me for his own.

As if hearing my thoughts, he bit down on my hardened nipple through the lace of my bra.  I cried out, not in pain, but in absolute pleasure.  He lingered for a while there, tearing at the thin fabric with his teeth, then releasing my wrists so that he
could use his hand to pull the fiendish undergarment aside and take both breasts in his hands.  His thumbs played
lightly over the puckered centers and I panted, struggling with control.  “You’re so beautiful, mo chroí. I want to consume every little bit of you.”  With a mischievous wink, he closed his mouth over the areola, swirling his tongue around it slowly.  I let out a soft groan, cradling his head against my chest.  His teeth scraped the pale skin as he suckled, gently at first, then more insistent.  His fingertips trilled across my chest, wandering to the other breast and cupping it firmly.

“What are you?” I murmured softly, placing my hand over his and guiding it to squeeze and rub at my breast.  My words trailed off into an incoherent moan when he rolled my nipple between his fingers, then tugged until it stood out
painfully.  He was like something out of the most heated of dreams.  Every caress and kiss, whisper and moan was the most potent aphrodisiac.

“I think you know,” he whispered, his lips capturing the hardened bud between them and worrying it gently with
his teeth. “You told me the story yourself.”

“It was just a story,” I moaned.  “An old wives’ tale—”

“Was it?” he slurred, burying the tip of his nose in the furrow between my breasts and lapping slowly with his tongue.  “So many stories have kernels of truth.”  He traced a path of warm kisses from the base of my throat to the gentle slope of my belly and lingered there.  His breath was hot against my skin as he breathed slowly, feathering kisses here and there.  I felt his hands slide behind my back and I lifted my hips involuntarily.  He grasped the button at the back of my skirt and pulled it open with deft fingers.  Again my mind screamed for me to stop him.  I tried to think of Alex, but my desire wouldn’t be deterred.  I knew that I had to go through with this or risk a lifetime of regret.  He pulled my body towards him, lifting my pelvis off of the rock just enough for him to use his free hand to pull the unforgiving fabric of my skirt down over my generous hips, taking every stitch of clothing with it and laying me bare before his eyes.  He made a sound between a moan and growl and I watched as his eyes traveled over every inch of my body, as if counting each pore.


So what do you think?  Worth the wait???


I am blogging to avoid doing all the things I still have left to do.  However, I have done my hair and laundry.  Next on my list is packing my suitcase, cleaning the house and having a shower.  Maybe later tonight I can actually sit down and overhaul my iPod and make more swag.

Earlier I got a comment saying that inquiring readers wanted to see me.  I wasn’t really sure how to take this, but seeing as how I have nothing to hide, I’ll post a pic.  And as I was thinking about it, I happened to think— there are LOTS of pictures of me out there on the intertubes.  I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, as one day some psycho could track me down.  But as a friend of mine once said, anyone who is a member of a social networking site has essentially given up their anonymity.  So screw it.  A pic of the ole Southern Belle herself…

The Real Me… exciting isn’t it…

There.. aren’t you pleased?  Aren’t you just falling all over yourself with joy and amazement.  I used to shy away from pictures rather readily, but I’ve decided.  Most people aren’t nearly as hard on me as I am on myself.  I need to remember this as I go forth this weekend in Louisville.  Even when I think I sound like an idiot.  Or look horrendous.  Or my hair won’t do what I want— other people won’t even notice.  And I suppose that this is the key to self-confidence, folks.  Not giving a damn what other people think as long as you’re happy with yourself.  And after 34 years I’ve decided– I AM.  Sure I’d like to lose a few pounds, have more novels under my belt, write better– and I’ll strive for those things.  But I don’t have to rely on those things to be happy with myself.

I was having a conversation with my siblings today and they were saying that no matter what I do, I always manage to land on my feet.  I just laughed and said, “Well… I know I’ve always been charming.”  And I think that’s part of it.  I’m also, for the most part, unafraid to speak my mind, ask questions and try something new.  Which I realize, might also work against my “goth chicky” image.  I’m not quiet or gloomy.  I don’t carry a frown.  I’m very personable and like talking to people.  But yeah… I am charming.
This is the part where you all tell me to shut up and get to work packing.  I’ve rambled long enough.  But I figured this was something I needed to tell myself to quell those gnawing feelings of self-doubt that have been working on me all week long.   I can only be me and everyone just has to accept it.  Or, as they say, fuck ’em.