Friday, April 29, 2016

Finicky Friday - Simple Hamburger Stroganoff

Hey everyone, I thought it would be cool to post some recipes I had found online. I’m going to *try* to do some of these beforehand, but I’m sure there’ll be times I won't. I'm going to call this Finicky Friday. :)

Simple Hamburger Stroganoff

Recipe by: Jessica “I've always loved the taste of a good Stroganoff, but I hated the expense and preparation of beef tips or steak or roast beef to make it. So I created my own creamy Stroganoff.”


1 (16 ounce) package egg noodles

1 pound lean ground beef

1 (.75 ounce) packet dry brown gravy mix

1 (8 ounce) package cream cheese

1 (6 ounce) can chopped mushrooms, with liquid

1/2 cup milk

1 (8 ounce) container sour cream 2 (10.75 ounce) cans condensed cream of mushroom soup


Prep: 20 m

Cook: 10 m

Ready In: 30 m

Bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil. Add egg noodles and cook for 8 to 10 minutes or until al dente; drain. 

In a skillet over medium heat, brown the ground beef until no pink shows, about 5 minutes; drain fat. 

Mix brown gravy, cream cheese, and mushrooms with hamburger, stirring until cream cheese melts. 

Add milk, sour cream, and mushroom soup to cooked pasta. Blend hamburger mixture with pasta.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Edits on It Takes Two to Tango and me babbling lol

So, yay, I got the first round of edits on Tango. Those are due May 2. The grammar part of the edits are done, so now I'm focusing on the rewrites. It's kinda funny--the things I thought *might* be problematic... turned out not to be. The things I *thought* I had covered... yeah, not so much.

*insert sarcastic yay here* Yeah, not looking forward to that part. I hate rewrites. Okay, I don't actually hate rewrites, but it can be a pain trying to figure out where to insert certain things that need to be inserted and then making sure nothing else changed because of your rewrites. And, of course, I always seem to miss something lol.

Also, my first editor, who is Nan, deserves a medal. Seriously. She's been with me for a while now, and has stayed  even after seeing my inability to figure out where the ever-loving fuck a comma goes lol.  *Grin* the reason I thought of that saying is because Remi wears a T-shirt in the book with that saying on it. So see? I'm trying *not* to be a psycho!

Anyway... in other news, I'm waiting on the cover for Bound by Fate. Just as soon as I get that, it'll be released. I'm not sure I'm going to do pre-orders. I don't really see the point. Ah well, we'll just have to wait and see. :)

I haven't been around much on social media the past couple of days because it's time to clean up the front flowerbeds and do whatever planting, like shrubs, I need to do. So now everything hurts LOL, but hey, the view from my front windows are awesome. Kitty is impressed. ;) Also got all of the hummingbird feeders hung up too. The hummingbirds are impressed.


The ducks, on the other hand, don't give a shit as long as they get fed. Typical, lol.


Friday, April 22, 2016

Finicky Friday - Mexican Strawberry Water

Hey everyone, I thought it would be cool to post some recipes I had found online. I’m going to *try* to do some of these beforehand, but I’m sure there’ll be times I won't. I'm going to call this Finicky Friday. :)

Mexican Strawberry Water (Agua de Fresa)

Recipe by: Olivia "Fresh fruit waters, or Aguas de Frutas, made with crushed or blended fruit are a common and popular drink all over Mexico. This recipe is extremely flavorful and refreshing, especially when fresh strawberries are in season."

Time: 4 h 25 m (prep is only 25 minutes)
10 servings
100 cals

4 cups strawberries, sliced
1 cup white sugar
8 cups cold water
1 lime, cut into 8 wedges (optional)
8 fresh mint sprigs (optional)

In a medium bowl, mix together sliced strawberries, sugar, and 1 cup of water. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator for 4 hours.

Remove the strawberry mixture from the refrigerator and pour into a blender. Blend on high until smooth. Pour the blended berry mixture through a wire mesh strainer set over a large mixing bowl; discard the pulp and seeds.

Add the remaining 7 cups cold water to the pureed strawberries and mix well. Place the Aqua de Fresa in the refrigerator to chill for several hours or pour over ice and serve immediately. Garnish with lime slices or mint leaves.

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Mermen, anyone? *grin* Book two in the works.

Started the next merman book. o.0 It's going to be about Marcus. He's the merman who helped Nisha during the attack on Brett. He had a very minor part in Beneath the Surface, but for some reason he really stayed with me. He's a little bit of a smartass, which means I really like him, LOL.

Not exactly sure what I'm going to title it yet. Something to do with water, ocean, waves and such.Y'all feel free to toss some title ideas out there too lol.


Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Pride Promotions presents Victory Portrait by Tali Spencer and a giveaway!

Author Name: Tali Spencer

Book Name: Victory Portrait
Series: Pride of Uttor
Book: Four

Release Date: April 6, 2016


Imperial captive and former Sebboyan prince Peta Kordeun has one great wish: to meet Darius Arrento, conqueror of his country and a man he has idolized since childhood. That wish comes true the day the Uttoran emperor assigns Peta to assist the artist who will be painting the great general’s official portrait.

General Darius Arrento would rather take a crossbow bolt through his flesh than sit for a portrait, until his friend the emperor forces his hand. The notorious artist, Brazzi, uses semen and other sexual fluids to bind his colors—and Arrento is captivated by the artist’s pretty helper. Before long he is driven to possess the gorgeous young man who draws battle maps and whose na├»ve charm has won more hearts in Uttor than Arrento has won battles.

When Arrento learns that Peta, the slave he covets and wants for his own, is one of the despised Kordeun princes, he storms from Uttor toward a far corner of the empire—where he quickly finds himself embroiled in a plot to tear Uttor’s empire apart. His emotions and loyalties frayed, the great Arrento is in the battle of his life…and Peta may hold the key to his survival.

Pages or Words:78,600 words

Categories:Alternate Universe, Fantasy, Gay Fiction, M/M Romance, Romance

“You want me to assist the painter. Only that?” Peta asked.
“Yes. I just want you to understand you will be naked and…Brazzi will want you to be sexually aroused.”
“It’s what Brazzi does. Not for himself—not unless you’re a woman—but for his method. He was tried three years ago on charges of obscenity because he uses…sexual fluids for mixing his paint. He truly is a genius. His colors are astonishing.”
“And you want Arrento to see me like that? Naked and…being used?”
“No.” Gaspar was being firm. “I want a portrait of my general. And I happen to think that the sight of you will keep his ass firmly planted for whatever sittings the painter requires. You see, Darius has one weakness—only one. He cannot resist a thing of beauty—and you, my pretty slave, are the most breathtaking young man I have ever had the privilege to look upon.”
Peta flushed. Gaspar wasn’t smiling. The man was serious.
Could he do it? Did he want to do it? Peta knew he was pretty. His looks had blessed and cursed him all his life. His beauty had attracted Kesme as a fellow cadet and was what Kesme had praised that last night when they’d made love...and Peta’s face was what Lukacz, his own father, had sought to destroy, thinking that doing so would release him from predation and unnatural desires. And now Gaspar, too, wanted only one thing…
“Just sit there and look pretty,” he said, heart sinking as he grasped what Gaspar was asking him to do.
“Only if you’re willing. I’m not completely oblivious to what this sort of service might entail. It could be rather…awkward. On the other hand, it might not be for long. Darius can be stubborn. It’s possible he won’t show up.”
And just as possible that he would.
Peta wanted to say no but he could not get his mouth to form the word. He might never get another chance to see Arrento, perhaps hear his voice. Be in the same room with him.
He’d be silent…naked…terribly exposed even in his utter worship.
But he would at least be able to say he had seen the great man.
“I’ll do it,” he said.

Buy the book: 

Meet the author:

Tali Spencer delights in erotic fantasy and adventure, creating worlds where she can explore the heights and shadows of sexual passion. A hopeful romantic and lover of all things exotic, she also writes high fantasy and science fiction. If you would like to see inspiration pictures for her characters, or glimpse how she envisions her worlds, check out her Pinterest boards.

Thanks to a restless father, she grew up as a bit of a nomad and still loves to travel whenever she can. Her longest stint in one place was Milwaukee where she went to college, enjoyed a series of interesting careers, and raised three surprisingly well-adjusted sons. She later married her true love and put down new roots in Philadelphia, where she lives in an ongoing Italian American family sitcom. At least she’s learned how make good pasta. When not writing, Tali reads everything from sweet goofy romances to medical research, manages her fantasy football team—go Gekkos!—and takes long walks with her loving, if slightly neurotic, poodle.

Tali’s other books include the three preceding Uttor books: Captive Heart, Dangerous Beauty, and Adored, all with Resplendence. Her gay male high fantasy stories, Thick as Thieves, Sorcerer’s Knot, and The Prince of Winds, are published by Dreamspinner Press. She often posts free stories and excerpts on her blog. 

Where to find the author:

Twitter: @tali_spencer

Goodreads Link:
Publisher: Resplendence Publishing
Cover Artist:Melody Pond

Tour Dates& Stops:
26-Apr: BFD Book Blog
29-Apr: Oh My Shelves
6-May: Molly Lolly

Rafflecopter Prize: $10 gift card
Rafflecopter Code:

A Seminal Story

The Pride of Uttor series originated with semen. Lots and lots of semen. Not that I wrote it with semen, though I could have given the right set of circumstances—and a harem of men. The semen that gave birth to Victory Portrait is fictional, part of a bigger picture that involves origin stories, art, and the creative mind. Or maybe just that we humans are, at the core, raunchy little buggers.
Victory Portrait was the first Uttor story. It’s the fourth book to be published, but the whole series was born from this story that started with a quirky notion.
Actually, it started with an image—not of semen, but of a powerful man, a great military leader, having his portrait painted and being enraptured by a beautiful slave boy belonging to and helping the artist. A breath-taking, naked young man. Because I’m a stickler for story logic—there has to be a believable reason for a young man to be naked—I asked why might an artist need a naked, obedient youth. Moreover, why would he need him present while the general is sitting? A model. Okay. But this youth is not a model. He’s there because the artist needs something only a naked young man can provide.
The idea was erotic and kinky, and maybe a little out there, but…could it be done? Even if an artist wished to use semen in his paint, was that even something that could work?
I already knew tempura paint was used by artists in the Roman Empire and Middle Ages, a time period that suited my fantasy story well. Tempura uses egg yolks. Egg yolks are glutinous…and so is semen. Yay, science classes! So I delved further.
Had any artists actually used semen?
Turns out they have. Though there’s no historical record of artists using semen in paintings during antiquity, our own era has plenty of examples.
Mexican artist Mario Castillo mixes his own semen with acrylic paint. His reasons are philosophical: “Semen is like the old medieval paintings, which used egg yolk instead of oil as a binder,” Castillo said. “A thought crossed my mind about the essence of the yolk. I realized I had been mixing a life-giving substance into the pigment.” Though he understood that mixing yolk with paint destroyed the life-giving forces, he was still left with knowing the paint contained traces of life, “a substance which would represent mind, body, soul, and spirit.”

Castillo’s The Ancient Memory of the Mayahuel’s People Still Breathe(1996)presents avibrant vision of Mexico’s racial memories of the Mayan people.
Among Castillo’s influences is the man history has first recorded as using semen in his art: avant-guarde artist Marcel Duchamp, who believed eroticism was at “the basis of everything and no one talks about it.”

Take Duchamp’s Paysage Fautif, or Faulty Landscape (1946). The painting even looks like a jizz splotch, though DuChamp kept quiet about it and the semen was only identified as such in 1987 through laboratory testing. The painting celebrates Duchamp’s romantic passion for a fellow artist.
“It doesn’t look perverted until you know what it is,” says art blogger SaherSohail. “It’s also a work that says: ‘I had a picture of you in my head when I was beating myself off, and here’s a picture of how that finished.’”
What makes research such a joyous part of writing for me is that not only do I get my facts straight, I also get to learn more about truly interesting people and movements.
Victory Portrait’s artist, Brazzi, uses a lot of semen for his monumental portrait of Darius Arrento—and to get that semen he needed a young helper. Thus was born Peta…and the stories of Peta’s family, their loves and deep conflicts, eventually became  the Pride of Uttor series.

While Brazzi moved the rejected sketches aside and set up a larger canvas upon which to render the final work, Arrento walked around to the crates where he would pose and took a seat upon the foremost. He gazed with renewed interest at the youth, drinking in details. The young man’s fingers as they milked his rosy cock showed no signs of belonging to a warrior. Slender and strong—a beautiful hand meant for pleasure and soft things, not the violence of war. The fingers alternately squeezed and opened with a fluid control so mesmerizing Arrento could only stare in admiration. He craved that touch…in fact, he craved a great deal more.
But Peta was not his slave.
Not for the first time, Arrento reminded himself that a man who obeyed his cock was not his own master.
“So it’s true you use sexual essences to bind your paint to the canvas?” Talking to the artist at least provided a diversion.
“They are an ingredient of my secret formula for applying pigment, yes. With women I often use their own essences for the most luminous surfaces—the skin, the lips, the eyes—that is, if they will permit me to gather their nectar. Otherwise I use my ejaculate or the gifts of a slave. Most men, of course, do not provide their own…I don’t suppose—”
“No,” Arrento said, refusing that option.
“Certainly His Imperial Majesty predicted as much, which is why he provided the boy.”
“A Sebboyan moreover. After my victory we brought many of their number back to Uttor.”
“A handsome people,” Brazzi agreed. He arranged his paint pots and brushes, then took a seat. “Superior, really, in many ways…cultured and well-educated. We laid claim to their finest scholars and artists.”
That was true. The hostilities that had brought their two countries to war had been due to infractions of politics, not a lack of regard. The people of Sebboy were famed for their philosophers, scientists, and actors. They had not lost the war because they were uncivilized or lacking in courage but because they’d been poorly led.
What had Peta been? He was too young to be a philosopher.
Brazzi resumed sketching quickly like a fencer seeking hits, his charcoal stick skating across the canvas.
Arrento contented himself with studying the way morning sunlight created highlights and shadows upon Peta’s body as though he were an artwork himself. An artist would have been pleased with such a creation: the torso just broad enough through the shoulders, balanced by strong arms with toned muscles suggesting some use of weapons. The arms of farmers and laborers differed from those of soldiers. The youth’s legs, however—those glorious thighs and tight half-moons for an ass—revealed him to be a rider. Cavalry, perhaps. He was likely some wellborn youth for whom riding and using blades had been activities of leisure before his country had gone to war. Arrento’s lip twitched at the thought.
He noticed the youth had ceased stroking his cock. “Don’t stop, boy,” he said, “continue. I like watching you work.”
The boy’s elegant jaw line firmed, but he resumed. Arrento watched intently the way two fingertips caught drops of pre-cum and curled over the engorged, deeply colored crown. Sebboyan’s cut away the foreskin in infancy, leaving the glans exposed. That nakedness now held Arrento riveted. Peta stroked his sensitive tip, then slid his hand back down along the shaft, adding slickness until he reached the golden hair at his crotch. High dusky pink balls peeked from within lacy curls. Arrento shifted his position slightly to conceal the burgeoning heft of his own neglected cock.
Angling out from behind the canvas, Brazzi picked up a brush and reached with it toward Peta’s stiff cock. The flat bristles flicked over the slit, picking up drops of pre-cum which he immediately carried to a spot of brownish pigment on the palette. Arrento’s breathing quickened as he watched Brazzi perform this collection again…and again, bristles lightly touching the rosy skin surrounding the boy’s leaking slit.
Peta groaned and worked faster with his hand.
“Cease stroking,” the artist murmured. The youth clearly needed no further stimulation. Droplets flowed freely at every touch of Brazzi’s brush. Like a spigot, Arrento thought, appreciating the image.
“May I?” he asked, indicating the tableau. He wanted to touch that hard cock, test the texture of that porcelain skin.
“Not now,” Brazzi replied. “Stay put. The light is perfect for capturing your coloring.”
“I’ll sit again…perhaps tomorrow.”
“Yes, yes that would be good. I would appreciate if you would dress as you did for the Battle of Cheda, a winter campaign. For now, don’t move. Another sitting, maybe two, and I can work without you for a few days or a week, and then you must return. I prefer morning light for applying the first layers, but later you must come in the afternoon. Late light provides a more martial quality I think will suit you.”
Arrento hardly cared for the quality of the result. He wanted more of the slave. Peta’s fine lips, a delicate tint of rose, parted with a gasp at another touch from Brazzi’s brush. Arrento noticed the boy avoided looking at either man.
Modest perhaps.
“How do you get him to drip so much?”
“Excellent care. I encourage my helpers to eat fruits and meat and to drink plenty of wine. Also I have gotten good at exciting even reluctant partners.”
Yes, he could see that. The man wielded his brushes masterfully—in every possible way. Peta quivered from the stimulation, his breathing ragged and skin beaded with fine perspiration. He almost certainly battled an overpowering urge to spend himself. Fortunately for the painter, the cock noose prevented that. From time to time pretty Peta’s lovely thighs tensed, buttocks tight, pelvis thrusting forward to present Brazzi with that captive prick and pink balls dusky with frustration. Using a pointed brush, the artist applied the bristles directly to the slit, provoking a groan of need and an even more copious flow of seminal drops.
The damn painter had to know his subject would be as aroused as the slave.
“You’re quite devious, aren’t you?”
“An artist must be devious with his art. It is no mean feat to capture the soul of a subject. All things in nature defy our meager talent to capture it, even as a still life or landscape. But the essence of a thinking, emotional being…much harder.” Brazzi peered again around the canvas. “Are you uncomfortable?”

He was, but not from posing. “Get it done,” he grunted. “I have battle plans to make.”

Monday, April 18, 2016

Pride Promotions presents Red Ruby Booty Shorts and a Louisville Slugger by Lexi Ander and a giveaway!

Author Name: Lexi Ander

Book Name: Red Ruby Booty Shorts and a Louisville Slugger
Series: I.O.N.
Book: One

Release Date: March 2, 2016


Eager to escape the shadows of a tragic loss, Diego built a new life with his best friend, Beck. When he finally decided one night to admit that he's in love with Beck, that new life takes a new, hot and happy turn. But happiness is easily shattered, as he's learned all too well, and this time it's ruined by the arrival of a mysterious package and then men bent on violence.

Memories of a dead brother and an untouchable drug lord rise inevitably to the surface, and Diego dreads that the man he loves is mired in the world that Diego tried to escape. But Beck's secrets aren't so simple, and neither is the world in which Diego has been living...

Pages or Words:50,000

Categories:M/M Romance, Paranormal, Romance, Urban Fantasy

Diego walked the dreaming. Not the normal everyday imaginings of deep sleep, but the type of dream his abuela whispered of, where the veil of time drew back to show him the future. Unlike a normal dreamscape, where the colors were flat and the people one-dimensional figments of his imagination, here in the dreaming he’d one day be able to walk the scape as events unfolded around real people.

He was barely twelve years old and this was his very first dreaming. Abuela would be proud, and even though he wanted to run and tell her, he had to put his enthusiasm aside and do his duty well. Until the veil dropped back down, he wouldn’t be able to pull away from the dreaming. But why would he want to? This was a blessing from the Gods. His responsibility was to watch and learn, but more importantly, he had to remember.

A heavy fog caressed his skin as the mist slid past him. The cold touch caused a shiver to work its way up his spine. He stood in a warehouse, and the concrete had a layer of grit that clung to the bottom of his bare feet. The smell of old oil burned his nose and coated his tongue. No matter how many times he swallowed, the rancid taste clung to his mouth. People clustered around a painted circle in the open area of the floor. Diego recognized many of the gangbangers that belonged to The Man who ruled their streets of East L. A. with an iron fist.

A lead ball formed in Diego’s stomach. No one looked at or acknowledged him, but they moved out of his way all the same. Diego’s toes butted up against the broad white line. The mark wasn’t painted on the floor as he’d first thought, but was chalky, like the powder used to mark a baseball diamond. The noise of the crowd unnerved him. He could see the faces of the people, mouths moving exaggeratedly as they spoke, but their voices were odd: their slow, slurred speech made the words almost intelligible. The laughter, though—the eerie cackling skirted over his skin and filled him with dread.

On the other side, the crowd hoisted someone above them. He rode the outstretched arms until he reached the edge of the circle and then they set the person on his feet inside. Diego’s brother, Hector, appeared alternatively nervous and excited as he bounced around the interior of the ring on the balls of his feet. Five years older than Diego, Hector was the tallest person in their family, just shy of five foot ten. Diego wanted to have a strong body like his brother’s when he was older, but his madre told him Hector spent too much time at the gym and not enough time on his studies to make good grades. Hector claimed he had to be strong to protect their sisters from the vatos. Diego couldn’t deny how proud he was when people stepped warily away from the line when Hector bounced close, yelling excitedly at the crowd. His hermano had a reputation for ruthlessness when he defended the familia, and the vatos had learned the hard way to keep space between them and Hector.

Something—someone—stepped into the circle, the figure blurred and wispy-thin as if they were a ghost and not a solid person. Hector halted before the apparition, his expression sobering, his pinky tapping nervously on his thigh. Who would make Hector anxious? Hector was fearless; no one scared him. Well, perhaps there was one person. The Cadillac Man. Now that Diego thought about it, the sensation pressing against his skin wasn’t caused by the crowd, but had always been caused by the nearness of the Cadillac Man.

“Hector Emmanuel Hernandez,” Diego flinched, shocked Hector had given someone his full name. Their abuela warned to never do so. Names had power and could be used against them. The raspy quality of the voice caused Diego’s hair to stand on end. “Do you vow your service unto me, do as I bid of your own free will, and will you be loyal to me in exchange for the safety of your family?”

Hector bobbed his head at each question, bouncing in place. “Yes, sir.”

Black smoke drifted from the blurred figure, the tendrils snaking around Hector’s ankles. “No,” Diego breathed. Something was wrong—he had to stop Hector. He went to step over the line and an electrical current zapped him as he ran into an invisible wall. Blue webbed lines spread out from where he frantically struck the barrier again and again, ignoring the sharp pain in his fists.

“Will you accept the gift of the jaguar, willingly submit to the way of the warriors of old?” The grating voice held an air of expectation.

Diego slammed his fist against the wall. “Hector, no!” he shouted.

“Enter your blood into the book of binding.” The apparition held out a large weathered tome several inches thick.

Withdrawing a pocket knife from his jeans, Hector sliced his palm over the yellowed pages. He squeezed blood from his fist while Diego yelled and screamed for Hector to stop. Couldn’t he feel the wrongness of this place, in the people surrounding him? Did Hector not see the darkness of the person he was vowing himself to?

“It is done.” The finality of the statement was like a punch to Diego’s gut.

He didn’t understand what happened, only that Hector had committed to something he couldn’t walk away from. The dark mist swirled around Hector, clinging to his body, stroking him almost lovingly. Without being told, Diego knew it was evil. How could Hector not sense the vileness?

The blurred figure retreated from the circle and the spectators took several steps back. Hector’s smile faltered, but he pumped his fists in the air like a prize fighter. Diego yelled for Hector to run. Something would happen. The tension of the oncoming moment caused his skin to crawl with unease. Hector stopped in the center of the ring and spread his feet, his expression scared but determined. A large jaguar prowled forward, the low growl the only warning before the cat leapt. Hector struggled as he was borne to the ground, screaming while powerful jaws clamped down on his shoulder. The jaguar planted a massive paw in the middle of Hector’s chest as it mauled him.

Diego fell to his knees, desperate to reach Hector but unable to answer his brother’s call for help. Hector fought, but Diego could see how quickly Hector’s strength left him, until he struggled no more. The feline released him, roaring in his face, bloody saliva dripping from its wide jaws. Too much blood pooled around Hector, and his head tilted toward Diego as his body shuddered. Diego pressed against the barrier, the sting no longer registering because he was too wrapped up in his grief as he watched his brother die.

“Diego.” Even though Hector whispered, he heard his name clearly, as if Hector sat right next to him. Hector’s gaze ran along the gathered crowd, eerily coming to rest where Diego knelt. “Lo siento, hermano. I didn’t mean to break my promise,” he rasped.

Buy the book:

Meet the author:

Lexi has always been an avid reader, and at a young age started reading (secretly) her mother’s romances (the ones she was told not to touch). She was the only teenager she knew of who would be grounded from reading. Later, with a pencil and a note book, she wrote her own stories and shared them with friends because she loved to see their reactions. A Texas transplant, Lexi now kicks her boots up in the Midwest with her Yankee husband and her eighty-pound puppies named after vacuum cleaners.

Where to find the author:

Publisher: Less Than Three Press
Cover Artist:Aisha Akeiu

Tour Dates& Stops:

Rafflecopter Prize: (2) $10 gift cards to Amazon or ARe

Rafflecopter Code:

Saturday, April 16, 2016

Whoot! Paws and Claws is done!


Man, am I glad to announce that the last book I had on the schedule for this year is finished! It's going to ARe for a collection they're putting out in October. The theme is about Alphas. :) Hehe, something I just so happen to write a lot of! o.0

It's finished, so now it's winging it's way to my lovely beta readers to have fun with. I'm really ahead of schedule—this was a due until July. But I'm glad I've got it out of the way... I have numerous edits coming down the pike. The first one will be the edits for It Takes Two to Tango. I've been warned that's going to need some loving attention, and other words, some rewrites.

Because of that, I'm a little hesitant to start the next book in the Fur, Fangs, and Felines series. I'm not sure what's tripping DsP up, but I'd hate to get down ten or fifteen thousand words in and then find out I'd have to trash all that. The good thing is once I get the first round of edits, I'll have a good idea what's going on.

In the meantime I may start the second book in the merman serious (lol I don't actually have a series name yet, I'm just calling it that). It's going to be called Beneath the Waves. It too is going to be novella size.

Anyway, it could be several months before Paws and Claws is released,  but I thought I'd share the inspirational pics/and notes for the characters.

Moon Valley Jamboree

Full Name: Alpha Grady Williams.

Age: jaguars shifter. Looks 30ish.

Height: 6’0

Weight: 210/ muscular

Hair: jet black hair

Eyes: golden hazel / in cat form:
have round pupils and irises that range in color from golden to reddish yellow. Grady’s are golden

Occupation: Alpha

Siblings:  none

Father: Randolph Moore. Died in rock slide ten years ago.
Mother: Jennifer. Died during Grady’s birth
Stepmother: Lynn

Alpha’s tend to be aggressive, dominating, and authoritative. Can come across as calculating. Good Alpha are excellent leaders and do care for their pack. Alpha’s are black… all black (melanistic) coat have spots that can still be seen.

Adult males can reach an overall length of more than 7 feet, and can weigh anywhere from 150 to 200 pounds. Alphas are larger with a larger head, more compact body, and much more powerful paws.

Red Rock jamboree

Name: Omega Cade Decker
Age: jaguars shifter. 26.

Height: 5’10

Weight: 180/ buff

Hair: honey/golden blond

Eyes: light blue

Occupation: Omega
Omegas *tend* to be submissive and has special abilities. Their cat is white/ grayish white with faint gray markings… an albino. Adult males can reach an overall length of more than 7 feet, and can weigh anywhere from 150 to 200 pounds. Omegas tend to be on the smaller end of that range.

Siblings: older brother who is the Alpha: Wayne Decker and his wife: Bonnie

~According to one indigenous myth, the jaguar acquired its spotted coat by daubing mud on its body with its paws.

~These beautiful and powerful beasts were prominent in ancient Native American cultures. In some traditions the Jaguar God of the Night was the formidable lord of the underworld. The name jaguar is derived from the Native American word yaguar, which means "he who kills with one leap."

The Jaguar is the third biggest Cat in the world behind the Tiger and the Lion and is well known for it's immense power and agility. In fact, the name Jaguar is said to come from the Native American word yaguar which means "he who kills with one leap".

BASIC FACTS ABOUT JAGUARS (the real ones lol)

The jaguar is the largest cat in the Americas. The jaguar has a compact body, a broad head, and powerful jaws. The eyes of jaguars have round pupils and irises that range in color from golden to reddish yellow. Its coat is normally yellow and tan, but the color can vary from reddish brown to black. The spots on the coat are more solid and black on the head and neck and become larger rosette-shaped patterns along the side and back of the body. "rosettes" -shaped like roses. Some jaguars are so dark they appear to be spotless, though their markings can be seen on closer inspection.

Jaguars are known to eat deer, peccary, crocodiles, snakes, monkeys, deer, sloths, tapirs, turtles, eggs, frogs, capybaras, fish, and anything else they can catch.

Range & Habitat
The mighty jaguar once roamed from Argentina in South America all the way up to the Grand Canyon in Arizona. Today, jaguars have been almost completely eliminated from the United States and are endangered throughout their range, which stretches down to Patagonia in South America.

The jaguar's present range extends from Southwestern United States and Mexico in forests located near rivers and lakes. They are very similar in appearance to leopards, but generally larger. The jaguar is the third-largest feline after the tiger and the lion, and the largest in the Americas. The jaguar makes its home in a wide-variety of habitats including deciduous forests, rainforests, swamps, pampas grasslands, and mountain scrub areas.

As a top-level carnivore, the big cat helps prevent overgrazing of vegetation by keeping its prey populations in balance. Jaguars are also important in human culture, frequently playing a central role in stories, songs and prayers of indigenous people.

Jaguars are solitary animals and live and hunt alone, except during mating season. The male's home range is between 19 and 53 square miles and often overlaps with the smaller home ranges of multiple females. A male aggressively protects his home range and resident females from other males. Jaguars live alone and define territories of many square miles by marking with their waste or clawing trees.

The jaguar hunts mostly on the ground, but it sometimes climbs a tree and pounces on its prey from above. It has very powerful jaws and sharp teeth and usually kills its prey with one crushing bite to the skull. The jaguar is largely opportunistic, stalk-and-ambush predator at the top of the food chain (an apex predator).

The jaguar has an exceptionally powerful bite, even relative to the other big cats. This allows it to pierce the shells of armored reptiles and to employ an unusual killing method: it bites directly through the skull of prey between the ears to deliver a fatal bite to the brain.
It marks its territory with urine and tree scrapes, in the same fashion as the other great cats.

Unlike most big cats, the jaguar loves the water — it often swims, bathes, plays, and even hunts for fish in streams and pools. In fact, they are quite good swimmers. Rivers provide prey in the form of fish, turtles, or caimans—small, alligator like animals. It is strongly associated with the presence of water and is notable, along with the tiger, as a feline that enjoys swimming.

Like all members of the big cat family, jaguars can roar. The jaguar’s roar sounds like a deep, chesty cough, mewing, hissing, spitting, and grunting.


Diet: Carnivore

Average life span in the wild: 12 to 15 years

Size: Head and body, 5 to 6 ft (1.5 to 1.8 m); tail, 27.5 to 36 in (70 to 91 cm)

Weight: 100 to 250 lbs (45 to 113 kg)