Monday, June 8, 2015

My 5 year publishing anniversary!

I knew yesterday's date sounded familiar, but it wasn't until today that I put my finger on it. On June 7th, 2010, my first book--A BITCH NAMED KARMA-- released. That was the day I officially became a published author!!! It's been five years and soooooo much has happened. I've learned so much and have really grown as a person and a writer.

This anniversary really makes me step back and think about my career. This is my second career, in case you didn't know :) My college degree and 13 years of my life were devoted to the floral industry.  I started writing just to see if I could actually do it. To see if I could complete a book. I was soooooo proud when I did!! That book never did--and never will-- see the light of day, but when I finished it, I went on to write a book I called Not Another Chick Lit Novel. After several re-writes and a name change, it finally found a home with Lyrical Press. I was so excited and so thankful they had given me a chance. Renee Rocco believed in me and helped me start this new career I was quickly falling head over heels in love with.

There have been MANY ups and down since then, and I will openly admit I am no where near where I'd hoped to be five years later. But I am soooooo much closer. The journey to publication and publishing success is a long one and nothing about it is easy. I often describe this time in my life as me going back to school. So many adults make a career change and go back to school for a new degree. I didn't actually go back to school, but boy did I ever get an education! When TRY ME ON FOR SIZE released last year, it was like my graduation and first job after college. I had arrived and was ready to make it in the world! I paid my dues, I worked hard, I didn't give up, and those years of learning WILL pay off :)

I'm definitely looking forward to seeing where I go in the next 5 years! Thank you for being here...for supporting me...for reading my books. Thank you to all my friends and beta readers who've read through my manuscripts, who helped me perfect my words. Thank you to my editors, especially Piper Denna, who saw something special in me and my manuscript and took the time to teach me. I would not be where I am without any of you, and I won't be able to go forward without you either! :)

Monday, June 1, 2015


It's my book bday!!!!! Woo hoo!!

Come celebrate with me at my Facebook party! It goes from 10 am til 10 pm, EST! Click here!

And if you want a little teaser, here's the opening scene of SIZE MATTERS! ;)

If a bicycle had a penis and eyes pleading for a blow job, the whole ordeal would be just like riding a bike. It’s one of those things a person never forgets how to do, no matter how much time has passed. But Bryn Harper hadn’t had sex with a living, breathing man in nearly two and a half years. The only sex she’d had involved rubber and vibrating replicas of manliness. So being in this position—nearly naked as she stepped into her dimly lit bedroom—felt far more difficult than pedaling around on two wheels.
“Hey.” Bryn managed a coy smile as she stood in the doorway connecting her bathroom to her bedroom.
“Wow. You look gorgeous,” Eli said, alleviating some of her anxiety.
She fidgeted with the lace hem of her see-through chemise. “Thanks.”
Bryn had been sort of dating Eli for a couple of months, and it was finally time to do the deed. She’d chosen him as her get-back-on-the-bike guy. Cute and polite, well mannered, with a smokin’ hot bod. He’d help her get it over with, make the fear go away.
They’d been friends for a while, having met at their kids’ school during Field Day. They’d bonded while serving hot dogs to ravenous elementary students. Casual coffees turned into dinner every other week. He was a nice guy to hang out with and he understood what she wanted—light and casual. Attempting to find love again was on her list, but not right now. Not yet. It was still too soon.
Bryn took a deep breath as she left the safety of her bathroom and stepped into the bedroom, illuminated by a half dozen candles. She kneeled on the bed and crawled to him, hoping it looked way sexier than it felt.
Eli’s ravenous gaze ripped off her transparent outfit and devoured her body. Wonder how long it’s been for him? He looked pretty damn hungry. He’d been divorced almost as long as Bryn had been widowed. But surely he had dated in that time. Divorc├ęs were usually back on the bike much faster than widowed riders—the anger-bang, revenge sex.
Bryn would never forget the day her doorbell rang and she ran to answer it, three-year-old Cammie on her hip, her hair a mess, never expecting to find what she did. As soon as she saw the uniformed soldier on her porch, she knew. Her husband would never come home again.
After Johnny died, all Bryn had wanted to do was curl up in bed with her three kids and hold them close. She’d stayed there for days, maybe even weeks. And when she finally came out, life was measured one hour at a time. If she could make it that far without crying, that was progress. Then it was two hours, then three. When she’d made it a whole twelve hours, she’d rejoined society and gone back to work. Her kids needed some kind of normalcy after weeks of seeing her a bawling mess of misery.
But that’s as far as the normalcy in her life went. The only things that mattered were her store and the kids. Finding a companion—love—had been the furthest thing from her mind.
But here she was, two and a half years later, and it was getting really hard to be a single mom, especially to growing boys. Jaxson and Zachary needed a man in their lives, one they could relate to. Grandpa wasn’t really cutting it. Dating Eli was part one in giving her family what it needed.
And Bryn needed a man in her life, too. Not for financial support, protection, and overall dependency, but for companionship and, yeah, sex. Lots of sex. A real, live man to hold her, taste her, and caress her body. Dildos and vibrators were fun, but they didn’t whisper sweet nothings and dirty talk in her ear or press feather-light kisses along her spine.
Bryn focused on Eli, and damn, he looked good lying there. She scanned his seminaked body. For a guy in his late thirties, he had a fine physique. Mounded pecs and sculpted biceps, muscular thighs that made her yearn to be between them. No six-pack, but she wasn’t exactly model shape, either. Her eyes traveled south to his black boxer briefs, where a tent was already forming. Phew! There was a halfway-hard penis waiting for her, and the flow of moisture between her thighs told her she was more than ready for it. It gave her the courage to keep moving forward.
He sat up and pulled her toward him, kissing her far more passionately than they’d kissed before. Until this point, it had only been mini kisses after dinner on her porch, the kids peeking out the front window. But tonight they were blocks away at her parents’ house. No giggles. No interruptions.
Eli pressed her body to the bed with his and trailed a kiss across her neck to her earlobe. Bryn giggled. So much for no giggles.
“I’m sorry. That’s my ticklish spot.”
“It’s okay.” Eli smiled at her. He had a really nice smile. And eyes. He raised one eyebrow, his lips curling into a sinister grin. “I want to taste all your ticklish spots.”
That sounded fun. Bryn’s hunger was most definitely back. She lost her giggles and pulled his lips back to hers, raking her hands down his back, hesitating at the band of his underwear. This was it. A smidgen of fear crept back in, but she squashed it, reminding herself how much better an orgasm felt when performed by someone other than herself, or a vibrator, even the Ultra Vibe with its clit stimulator and rotating pleasure beads.
Time to get that body completely naked. As Bryn reached her hands inside the elastic, the phone rang. Intent on ignoring it, she rubbed down his smooth ass. A soft murmur emanated from Eli’s throat and he moved his lips to her chest, peeling the lace away from her breast before smothering it with his warmth.
The answering machine clicked on and echoed through the house. “Bryn, honey, it’s Mom. I just have a quick question about one of the kids. Call me when you get in.”
There was no better mood killer than the sound of her mother’s voice.