Sunday Sit-Down: DL Hungerford

Writing is not as easy as it looks, and sometimes we need advice and tips on how to navigate the obstacles that come our way during the process. Today, I talked to author DL Hungerford, writing a steamy Regency series under the name Roxanna Haley, on just such matters. Continue reading “Sunday Sit-Down: DL Hungerford”


I think this speaks for itself.

Sammie Maxwell

Today, I take a break from my usual smutty rhyming, and give a moment of my time, which is far less than deserved, to remember those we’ve lost. Fifteen years ago, today, the Twin Towers collapsed before the world’s eyes. Time stopped, and the only thing that continued was the deafening silence of the tears of a nation.

I still have no words for what I felt that day, and I’m not sure I ever will. About all I can do, is dig down to the bottom depths of my heart and thank the men and women who responded. In the seconds, the minutes, the days, weeks, even months and years after, and still, always, forever, the men and women who spend their days being the superheroes they claim not to be. Paramedics, police, fire and rescue. Every branch of the military. You all deserve so much more than I…

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Writing as Explained by Jurassic Park gifs

Writing is a process, and we all know it. It starts with an idea – an egg, if you will. We sit on it, incubate it, and when it’s ready, it’s pokey little beak starts pecking away.

01 the idea arrives

Continue reading “Writing as Explained by Jurassic Park gifs”

A Team Sport

I guest blog once every couple months on Happy Authors Guild. Here’s my latest contribution!

Happy Authors Guild

No, I’m not talking about the Olympics. I’m talking about collaborative writing.

I honestly never thought I’d write collaboratively. With anyone. Ever. But… in the last few months, I have been. Quiet effectively, actually. Misty Carlisle, one of my best buddies, and I have been on a tear with it.

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Wordplay Wednesday: Camille

Our bodies close,
no breath between,
her skin so fair and smooth,
Lustrous contours revealed.

Beneath my hands,
Soft mounds
Of fevered, silken flesh.
“Come inside,” she appeals.

“If you desire,” I reply,
Caressing every curve.
She spreads her thighs,
Her entrance still concealed.

Eager now
I shift between,
Parting sodden lips
With dagger made of steel.

I slip inside,
The lady sheathes me whole.
Onward we love,
With vigor and with zeal.

She holds on tight,
And to her delight,
I come inside
My darling, Camille.