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Saturday, December 17, 2011

My letter to Santa

Dear Santa,

I'm a giver as you know so this year I'd like most of my Christmas wishes to be all about the needy, down on their luck, impoverished, and mentally unstable. Yes, I mean my friends! How did you know?

For Christmas this year I'd like more new guards.

Yes, my Royal House of Bitches loop ladies have already worn out the ones you gave me last year! Greedy wenches!! You don't want to know what condition I found them in after Nic Austin and Eve Savage finished with them. Needless to say I know the two poster girls for your naughty list! They already come equipped with inmate numbers and orange jumpsuits. Eve especially likes cavity searches!

I'd also like my pretty shiny Royal scepter back from Elece Payne Farberov. The sneaky minx stole it in Ohio. (stolen/given) Would you mind giving Cassandra McGuire a new appendix? The warranty ran out on her last one & was repoed. For Desiree Holt I'd like it a lot if you could find her memory. She can't remember where she left it. Brenna Zinn asked if she could get a clue, so I'd like to request she get one.

Samantha Cayto once asked a freaking minute of peace and quiet. Would you mind giving her the minute full of freaks? Also Sam requested the stupid people on the planet be given their own island. I second that and also ask that you actually move them there. Leaving it to them would not result in rainbows & puppies.
I'm not done yet, Santa, so please quit rubbing your heart and muttering "take me, take me please". It's not very polite. After all I'm just trying to give back like you've always I mean asked me to.
**clearing throat**
Now for Margie. She needs her sanity which she said she lost last October and hasn't seen a glimpse of it since. *blinking eyes innocently** What do you mean my fault, Santa? Really how rude!
Cerise Deland asked for things I'm sure Eve would be better able to provide. Things my innocent young royal mind can in no way understand or comprehend. Though I do recommend getting her the oak St. Andrew's cross because the cheap ply wood break with only a good wack or two.

Yes, Santa there is something else. Each of my Royal House of Bitches ladies (no, it's not an oxymoron)would like a Caveman under her bed. Yes, bed not tree. No, I'm not explaining it just deal or else I'll start sending pics of the guards in the after condition. The problem here is I have more ladies (quit laughing...did you just pee on yourself, Santa? Ughhh) Anyway there are more FEMALES then guards even tossing in my gently used ones. Big thanks, Nic & Eve, I said break them in not break them! Santa, how do you feel about a little temporary cloning as I know Alec is pretty popular & I know once Brenna finishes with him...well he'll have grown wiser and more sarcastic.

A new padded wing to the palace, not for me of course, but for those guards and ladies who tap dance a little to close to the sanity line. More ugly guards too. Elece needs to learn to share and trolls make nice jailers too.

So Santa dear, these are my wishes this year. As you tell I'm all about the giving this year and as a result I'll expect the rest of my more...private wishes to be taken care of as well. Thank you, dear old fellow, for taking the time to visit with me and for taking pity on the RHB.

Princess Allie

Ruler of the Sparkly Kingdom
P.S. Don't forget the batteries!!

Thursday, December 1, 2011

The Christmas Turkey Battle!

I love this time of the year mostly because food contains no calories in the month of December. Really, I'm sure there a study being done somewhere to prove this very important point. Most people will go on and on about the importance of being surrounded by friends and family. Me? I drink more thanks to said friends and family. Then I hide out in the darkest corner and wait for the mentally impaired to leave. Yeah, I'm not all that fluffy or jolly after hours surrounded by family. However, I honestly love hanging out with the short crowd. The 5-13 age bracket are my favorite, old enough to know what's going on & still young enough to believe.
So while the 'adults' are doing the coffee thing and trying to one up each other with their yearly news letters I hang with the ankle bitters. Before Christmas we take the presents, stack them up by name, then by size and finally by sound. It's fun and makes me feel like a kid again.
Once many moons ago as a innocent, pure and sweet soul of fourteen or fifteen I wanted to surprise my parents. My surprise, you ask? Cooking the turkey for Christmas! Yep, it was a brillant idea even though I'd never cooked one before. I thought how hard could it possibly be? Ahh the stupidity of the young :)
There it was a big twenty pound turkey in all its frozen glory. The time period to cook the bird was short. My parents worked so I had to get it done before they arrived home from work. As an astoundingly creative teen I thought of the perfect way to defrost my monstrous bird. Yank open the door on the dishwasher & stuff it in. Smart girl I am I pressed the gentle cycle, tossed the white frozen bundle in, hipped checked it closed & patted myself on the back.
Ten minutes into my amazing plan the dishwasher bucked, jerked and clucked. Yep, I thought the bird was fighting back. I rip open the door only to find bent metal and a still frozen bird. Obliviously not strong enough to conquer my turkey I grabbed it from the dishwasher and spun around waiting for brillance to strike again.
WHAM! Lighting bolts!! I rush to the laundry room & stood debating. Washer or dryer?? Hot water would defrost the bird faster. So off to poor innocent machine I went. Only to discover my bird wouldn't fit. Shoving, pushing, & slicking it with Snuggle fabric softener didn't help either. Hey, the thing was wrapped in pastic what could it hurt? Giving up that particular fork in the road I decided maybe the dryer was the answer after all. After flinging open the door I popped the now slightly mangled bird in and slammed the door shut. Set the heat timer to medium and hit the start button with an angry jab. The battle had now become personal! Me against the dead bird and so far the bird was winning.
I waited impatiently, listening to the thunk thunk of the drum as it connected to the frozen fowl. Everything going according to my masterplan! I walked away feeling triumphant and victorious! Just as I crossed the threshold the once seemingly innocuous dryer went postal. It bucked, groaned and hit the ground so hard I thought the floor would crack. Fearing my mother's reaction should I break the dryer (I was hoping to blame the dishwasher on my brother) I ran across the room, hit the power button and nothing happen. The dryer was alive and PISSED! Terror became my new name as I punched the damn button over and over again with no different results. Finally as my heart rate tripled I reached behind the now moaning monster and yanked out it's life blood. The electric cord! and all at once silence descended until the door popped open revealing my STILL frozen dead bird!
A smart person would have admitted defeat. A smart person would have already called and confessed her sins. A smart person would have packed a bag and hit the road before her mother came home to the destruction and possible death of two major appliances. I however am not a smart person. As I said this was war. The bird would not beat me. It would not be put back in the giant outside freezer only to mock me to the other frozen foods. I'd never be able to look another Popsicle in the face.
Time to pull the big girl panties up and show the turkey I meant business. Wrapping each hand in two oven mitts apiece (cause by now I'm thinking the bird just might still be alive and possessed) I take it to the ultimate destination for death. My mom's brand new microwave! A device bought only a few weeks ago in honor of the upcoming holiday and all the impending guests. Yes, I thought to myself, this machine so shiny and with so many fun buttons, would conquer my opponent.
Feeling smug and pretty proud of myself I shove the bird in, slam the door closed before turkey could try to make a break for it and hit the high power button then start.
Oh yeah, this was so going to work. I wanted to pat myself on the back. I wanted to crow with my vicious victory. I wanted to rub my brother and sister's faces in my brillance and all the brownie points cooking this bird would get me. Mentally I ignored the other destruction I'd left in my wake. Thinking about it would have interfered with my victory lap around the kitchen island. Some time around the second boogie lap I head the strangest noise. A pop, kind of quiet so maybe I didn't really hear anything? A litter slower now, but still dancing and rejoicing I continued to Snoopy Dance my way around the room.
Then it happened. The turkey came back for revenge! I'd just made a pass around the microwave when all hell broke loose. The door flew open, the turkey flew out headed right where my dancing self had been two seconds before, but instead of hitting me the bird soared across the room, smashed into the opposite wall and came bounding back. It crashed into the not so new looking microwave then finally thankfully tumbled to the floor, smoking. When the smoke finally cleared I saw bits and pieces of turkey meat littering the kitchen floor and me. Covered head to toe in turkey guts I looked around at the destruction, stunned and suddenly very very afraid.
My once oh so brillant plan lay smoking and popping at my feet and there wasn't a single sibling in the house to blame. Needless to say my mother had a few choice words for me even as I tried to defend myself. Somehow "the turkey made me do it" didn't fly with her and I was stuck as her kitchen slave for the next month. My father took one look at the room and quickly left, hiding in his office with the TV on...LOUD. Only in later years would I learn he'd hidden himself away so quickly because he'd burst out laughing.
It's a story that gets told every year at Christmas time around my family. It always starts with "You remember the time Allie started a war with the frozen turkey & the turkey won?"
To this day I reply "The victor ended up eaten by the dog, didn't he?"

I wish you a wonderful Christmas, Hanukkah, holiday or whatever you wish celebrate this time of year. Enjoy those who love you and those you love. Learn to tolerate or ignore those you don't.

Until next time


Oh yes, forgot to mention head over to for a chance to win a KINDLE!! Fun, huh?

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Saying goodbye to Club Botticelli w Romancing Recee

This month is pretty big for me. I have three releases including my first self-pub, Slippery When Wet, the second book in my paranormal series, Poseidon's Fortune. But that's not what this blog is about. With the release tomorrow of Romancing Recee I'll be saying goodbye to my Club B ladies. It's a sad yet thrilling time for me. I've had a blast with each of my girls, Olivia, Emma, Briley, Trinity & Recee. I sincerely hope you've enjoyed their journey with me. So to ensure my girls go out with a bang I'm giving away a BIG Club B basket. What do you have to do to enter? Simply send your receipt to & you'll be entered to win an Amazon giftcard, t-shirts, coffee mug, shiny sippy cup & more.

Recee is the baddest, meanest & most clinically insane of all her friends. She's given her heart to only four people, her friends and she has no intention of trusting a faithless man. When Brock shows up in her life, Recee makes sure the big, bad ex-solider knows she doesn't need him or his protection.
Brock's never met a more intense, beautiful, stubborn, medication needing female. When he steps in to save Recee from potential danger he never expects the crazy woman to turn on him.
It's a case of rock meeting hard place & who will ultimately win in the end. Because Brock's not about to give up until he's finished Romancing Recee


Sunday, October 30, 2011

Baby, it's cold outside!

This is my favorite time of year. When the temperature finally drops below 100 & we can pull out the thick sweaters, soft soft & cozy flannels. Granted I'm not looking my sexy Princess best, but even a royal castle can get cold. The guards are busy preparing for the first big cold front, gathering wood and playing keep a-way with Elece and her stealthy ninja ways.

Aside from the numerous benefits of cold weather, less sweat & stink from others :) A chill in the air makes me want to burrow down in front of my fireplace with hot coca and my laptop. Yep, Jack Frost puts me in a writing mood & I love it. My to-write list is piling up along with upcoming releases. Wow, where did the year go?

Also since we're talking about Frosty and nipping at noses, (just hush & follow along) I want to know your favorite winter fantasy. The naughty & nice ones. It can involve you, you & your main squeeze, or maybe even an extra guest star or two.

I'll go first :)

My favorite winter daydream is to be in the middle of nowhere in a fairytale cottage complete with flushy toilets, hot/cold water electricity, large fireplaces, and Internet connection. Hey, I'm still a princess & need my flushies!!
My little/large cottage would have a deck on back complete with fireplace, hot tub and outdoor living area. There would be floor to ceiling windows over looking the deck with a great view of the mountains. Inside there'd be a kitchen (someone has to cook, just not me) the living room with heated hardwood floors, a faux white bear rug and thick soft subtle leather furniture. With the lights turned off, the fire at our backs we'd (the guards & I) would watch the snow fall before they took turns giving me hot oil massages. It's good to be Princess!
I'm not sure why, but winter always makes me hibernate like a bear. I don't go anywhere unless I'm drastically needed or shiny objects are involved.

The point of this rambling blog? To make me feel better #1 & #2 to give you darlings an opportunity to share your chilly frisky snow-bound fantasies with me!

Let's get started!!

Monday, October 24, 2011

The New And Improved Kingdom

Allie handed over the keys to the kingdom. Can you believe it? She must have been hitting the chocolate wine. Bwahahaha...I had so much fun playing this weekend. As you can see, things have changed around here!
I also created an entirely new website befitting the sparkly princess 'cause frankly, her old site... <yawn> And the book page on the old site...<shudders>
Check it out Can't wait to hear what y'all think!
Now everything is fresh, new and of course very shiny. I'm still putting on the finishing touches but for the most part its finished. WOOHOO!

Nic, Goddess Of All Things Visual

Monday, October 10, 2011

It's new, it's fun & it's coming!

What happens when seven sassy women get together for a little wine, a few laughs and some inspiration?
YOU get 7 Sassy Tales!
Each of them coming to you on the same day, at the same time for the same Sassy price of 99 cents!
And if you read each one, you get to answer the questions and be entered in a drawing to win a Kindle FIRE!
Need the rules and regs?
Of course, you do. Go here:
More than that, you need to see the covers, sigh over the men and the stories and then tell your friends about TOYS-4-US series, coming November 1 to digital stores!
So who are the Sassy Seven?
Allie Standifer,

Brenna Zinn,

Cerise DeLand,

Desiree Holt,

Nicole Austin,

Regina Carlysle,

Samantha Cayto,

And you must go here to see all the FABULOUS COVERS:
Come back for nibbles of each of the wonderful stories about 7 women who don't take no for an answer from the men who have, until lately, eluded them.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Almost here...

Yep, it's almost time for the big secret to be revealed! Are you excited? I know I am. I can't say more or else I'll never see my tiaras again. SOOOO check back sooooooooonnnnnnn & I'll spill everything :)

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Body Farm Donations?

Yes, I'm watching too much History Channel on TV. However just because I'm watching it doesn't mean it's not a good question. Ughhh, I've got a weak stomach anyway & this is making me green.

1st why do people donate their bodies to the Body Farm in TN? I'm not trashing it. I'm honestly curious. I understand giving your corpse to science for study and to learn about different diseases. What confuses the hell out me is why people give their body to a place that will leave it out in the woods to watch bugs and other creepies eat it. Maybe I'm just really selfish? It's not like I'll have a clue what's happening to my sparkly corpse after death.

2nd Now their talking about hospital toxic waste. This company picks up the red garbage cans with all the warning & dangers signs on it. Did not know this, but at hospitals this red box contains everything from legs & arms, fat from liposuction to after birth and organs. This disposal company refuses to take heads or torsos for moral reasons. Huh? Explain please. And is there a company out there dealing with only heads & torsos? If so what do they do with them?

For some reason tossing a leg or arm seems callous to me. Shouldn't you bury it or at least say a proper goodbye? Not trying to be funny, but seriously what's Emily Post say about this in her Good Manners book?

There are so many things I didn't want to know that I now do. I need to turn the TV off and go back to my cave. Before I do here's another horrifying thought branded in my brain. I'm giving it to you so we can share the pain :)

The #1 activity for solo drivers in their cars is picking the nose. Yep, think about that next time you meet a business appt as he/she steps out of the car and holds their hand out to shake. AUGHHH, I'm off to drown in my strawberry/lemonade antibacterial lotion.



Sunday, August 7, 2011

Romance books saved my life...

OKay maybe not literally though there are days when I wonder. The tragedy of losing our servicemen & women in the helicopter crash yesterday makes me remember exactly why I write romance. There's always a happy ending, the bad guy/gal is the only one to die & love conquers all. Why wouldn't I write & read romance considering the awful things going on in the world? Yes good things happen to, but you never hear about those things or people on the news.

So in my own warped manner I'm going to explain why romance novels, movies, games & music kick the crap out of every other genre in regards to sales, fans & uses.

Bad day? Pop in Pretty Woman, pick up Susan Elizabeth Phillips book, or listen to the beautiful voice of Adele. Three different aspects of one genre all leading to you feeling better or at least smiling every once in a while.

I think the thing I love most about romance is I don't have to brace myself for heartache and/or loss. My happy ending is coming, I know it & I depend of the author to give it to me. On the flip side I curse every writer who killed off the hero or heroine at the end of their book. HELLO??? So I cuss them out, throw the book against wall or in the case of an ebook jab my finger at it over and over again. It's one thing I will never never never understand. You go through so much trouble to create this character, to literally bring them to life with quirks, character traits & emotions. You and your reader become attached them BAM see ya Sam, so sorry you melted into a pile of blue ooze. Or shit out of luck, Sian, but you HAD to sacrifice yourself for the greater good or at least to save your love who will now live a half life, morning you and cursing themselves daily for being the cause of your death. Yeah, that sounds happily ever after to me...NOT!

Anyone remember where I started to go with this? Yeah me neither. The point is, if there is one, is romance should be the one safe solid 100% guaranteed happily ever after. We should start page one knowing without a doubt that somehow, someway the author will guide us through the frogs bombs, exploding turkeys, & cologne dunked shriveled dick exs to reach the rainbows, puppies & hot sweaty HEA sex. We deserve it, we've earned it & we want it!!

Now I have to go torture a few characters then lead them to their happy place filled with chocolate, Diet Coke w vanilla & the most mind blowing orgasms a person can imagine. But first they have to earn it :)

Now to figure out a way to make frogs into exploding landmines.....


Thursday, August 4, 2011

I hate you...wanna be friends?

It's a small world, no really it is. The romance writers world is small. Word gets around. What else do you expect from a group of 3,000+ women & some men? No, I'm not trashing women. I'm saying I expect a certain amount of cattiness at every conference I go to. I'm catty to a certain extent. However, real bitchiness does more than make you look back in our little secular community, it'll drop you book sales, lose readers and alienate your publisher. Sounds dramatic doesn't it, but it's true. I've seen it happen with my own eyes and not through a friend of my neighbor's son's girlfriend's cousin dog walker.

In my pre-published days I went to my very first RWA National conference. Enjoyed myself until I saw and heard a NY writer trashing another writer. We're not talking catty "Oh did you see her knockoff LV bag?" Nope, I'm talking dip your head in the sewer type filth. The first writer trashed the other writer's characters, plot, covers then moved on to more personal topics like writer 2's looks, clothes, hair style and so on. Rarely am I without something to say, but this vomit of jealously left me speechless. Then I heard a soft sniff behind me and...yes you guessed it writer 2 was sitting on a couch behind these large fern plant things hearing everything the scanky two-bit writer had to say. The funny part of all this is I knew and read writer 2, love her work & still buy it to this day. She's a NY time best-seller now. It couldn't have happened to a nicer person.
Karma being the bitch she is took writer 1 down. Since the conference this writer was let go from her publishing house, dropped by her agent & is now lucky to publish one book a year from her backlist. Now, I'm not saying she deserved everything she go, but maybe this experience will make her think twice before opening her mouth again.

What's the point of all this? Easy there is none. People just have a tendency to tick me off with their self righteous, aren't I perfect crap. Well that and the over used plot of every other character is tortured and treated like crap by the world at large. Stick a diamond pin in me 'cause I'm done. Done with the tired line, the poor me look at my rough life plot. Where the heck are these people living because where I'm from we don't treat people like fashion accessories (I do, but I'm allowed... royalty and all) Yes, people suck & bad guys are all over the place. However good people are out there too. My previous EDJ sent me into the worst of the worst neighborhoods. I'm talking bad bad places where sometimes the cops didn't even go. Don't ask, I'm not that bright. So I'm in the 'hood or wherever bad people surrounding me when from nowhere good people rise up and correct the wrongs.
So please forgive me if I don't torture my characters with abusive childhoods, vengeful ex-lovers or murdered families. Reality sucks enough, why would I add it to my fiction? Granted my heros and heroines are a bit warped, have only a vague idea of sanity, but at least they don't live their imaginary lives beating themselves or the love of their life over past issues.
As you might be able to tell I'm not big on self-pity. It gets in the way of my ADD & obsession with all things shiny & sparkly.
Now I need to go torture my current WIP with some green Jello & super glue!


Sunday, July 24, 2011

My BDSM experience & Angry Readers

I had planned to write a totally different blog on this rainy Sunday, but with the release of Naughty Nature, things have changed. I've had angry emails and comments from readers living the lifestyle. So I felt it was time to address them and close the topic once and for all.

Here's my problem about getting angry comments and e-mail dealing with the whole BDSM club. I hid nothing from the owner or the members of the club. In no way, shape or form, did I intend to belittle, humiliate or misrepresent those involved in a true Dom/sub relationship. To those of you who'v called me a hypocrite, ignorant, or poser I ask you read the blog again. Not once did I ever claim to be an expert on the lifestyle. I merely wrote my experience, not trying to distance myself or make excuses, it was what it was and I don't feel the need to apologize. The club members and owner knew exactly who I was and why I was there. I never pretended to be anything other than a romance writer wanting to see the reality of BDSM playroom and open rooms. That night

I learned all about the trust and respect and patience which goes into forming a healthy relationship between the Dom and his/her sub. The subspace I've always heard about in reference to this type of relationship I saw for myself. There really are no words to describe the sheer perfection or peace in the sub's expression. Jealously was only one of the emotions I experienced when I gazed at the erotic yet powerful expression. The ability to trust someone so much with everything you are. I'm not talking about the whips or chains. There's something so beautiful in giving everything of yourself into another person's keeping and knowing they'll never let you down, hurt you (within reason) or ridicule you or your needs.

So why have so many people had a problem with my lighter take on the club experience? There were no accusations of abuse, no whining about people being mean or not taking no for an answer. In fact I believe I stated more than once how welcoming and respectful everyone I met was.
Is it the humor that bothers you? Me? My viewpoint? Seriously if the club members, Doms and subs alike, didn't have a problem with me, why should you?

My friends living the lifestyle, I know both Doms & subs, read my blog, laughed and moved on. They had no problem with my view on that night. In fact I sent Naughty Nature to several different people living the life. They pointed out my errors, made suggestions and said the experience would be possible if the heroine was as trouble prone as I am. In other words it could happen in another world or dimension where such a richly furnished magical club exists.

And that's my response to the angry e-mails & comments. Quit looking for insults where none exist. To everyone else I'll be back soon with another post this time a little less angry and a lot more on the lighter side.


Friday, July 22, 2011

Get a Little Naughty

Here's my contribution to the 1-800-DOM-help series. If you read my blog then you'll have no trouble recognising parts of the BDSM club I visited in LA. So get it, read it & be sure to tell me what you think.

Release Date July 22
Ellora's Cave
ISBN: 9781419935190

Aria’s always had a secret need to give up her normally tight control, but she’d never dared to act on it. Until one night a mysterious card with 1-800-DOM-help appears in a very personal place. For the first time in her life Aria’s taking a chance on fate and the promise of a stranger to discover her every veiled desire.

ER doctor Mac Hudson has always known who he is and what he wants. Now he’s looking for a sub to explore all the erotic cravings and fantasies he wants to share. One hidden glimpse of Aria and Mac’s ready to claim the petite sub in every way he can.

A single night of passion is all she expected, but with her handsome Dom she got so much extra. Now Mac’s asking for more and Aria doesn’t know if her naughty nature is up to handling a dominant alpha male for more than a single encounter.

Chapter One
The expensive, elegant yet unadorned card felt heavy between the smooth skin of her fingers. Aria knew it was only her imagination and anticipation giving it more importance than the business card deserved.
The who, how and why remained unanswered. Aria knew the where. Right smack dab in the middle of her personal tool box, under her bed. Normally something appearing out of nowhere would freak her out, sending her running for the nearest police department, but interest kept her feet firmly planted in her apartment.
Should she? Shouldn’t she? Nice girls didn’t want to be dominated, did they? Good girls never fantasized about being taken in the ass, right? A normal woman wouldn’t want to submit to a man, give him complete control over her body? Let him pleasure her anyway he wanted?
Shit! Why was this so hard for her? At thirty-four Aria Dunson knew her mind and lived a generally guilt-free existence. But something about this card made her yearn for all the wicked dreams to turn into reality. To let the fantasies that only lived in her mind out to become actuality.
“Screw it,” she muttered and picked up her phone with slightly shaking fingers punched in the number.
“Thank you for calling 1-800-DOM-help. This is the Operator. How many I be of assistance?”
The male voice that floated over the line was smooth and smoky, with just the right touch of sexual innuendo.
“Hello?” The Operator asked when she didn’t say anything.
“Hi, back. May I help you with something?” Amusement rang his sexy voice.
Right, she almost smacked her head with the cell phone. “Yes, I received your card and wanted to get a little more information.”
There that sounded a little better and more like her normal take-charge self.
“Ahh, I see. Are you interested in the role of a Domme or a submissive?”
“Oh no… I mean...crap…umm… Dominated. Submissive. Or at least I think so. You see I’m not too sure, but I do know I’m not calling any man master or licking feet. Oh and I have no desire to eat dinner off the floor in a bowl marked Fido and I don’t share well so there’s no chance I’d want to be passed around like a large party tray.” She babbled nervously, thinking of all the bondage sites she’d looked over, late at night with a glass of wine in hand.
The Operator’s husky chuckle caused things to tingle low in her stomach. “I’m here to ensure you make a wise decision, Ms….”

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Nicole Austin is My Hero!!

Seriously, people, she's our artwork CEO & resident genius. And not only can she make covers hot enough to make you sweat, but my girl writes a romance so intense you'll never forget it. Now go check out her latest and greatest release in Corralled Series, Brock's Hellionn in Print!! Her latest e-release

Corralled Series - Book 4

Brock is cool, calm and in control. Except when it comes to the feisty hellion who pushes all his buttons for the sheer fun of watching his patience snap. Far worse than the intense desire to choke her is the alarming, all-consuming compulsion to tie Tink to his bed and fuck her into next week.

Tink is no wimpy damsel waiting for a big strong man to rescue her or take over her life. Oh, hell no. She does her own thing, her own way, when she damn well feels like it. The last thing she wants or needs is some overbearing man bossing her around. Though she’d like to torture him with pleasure.

One night of explosive passion pushes Brock’s restraint past the limit. And hidden behind the cold-hearted bitch, he discovers a woman who longs to surrender to a man she can trust.

Come hell or high water, he’s going to be that man.

This book contains a smokin’-hot scene involving three men and one lucky woman.

Make Mine A Double

A sequel to My Greatest Fantasy

No doubt about it, Kaylie Ward’s a loser magnet. So she swears off men. But give her some tequila to wash away those man troubles and she’s more than ready for a hot ménage fantasy. Somehow, dream and reality collide when she wakes up with two naked hunks in bed with her—not that she’s complaining.

Best friends, business partners, lovers—Max Lockhart and Brayden Sinclair share everything, including women. Like a bad country song, they went looking for love in all the wrong places, only to find it waiting for them at home, in their bed no less.

Kaylie’s plans for the future revolve around having a “normal” life. Going after it means living with a broken heart, unless she can keep her double order of beefcake and have a real family too.

Cerise Deland, awesome roomie & amazing writer

I don't love her just because she's the perfect roommate. Lubs her 'cause she's a hot hot writer who melts my chocolate every time.

Here's the link to her latest release. Trust me you're going to want to get your hands on this one. Then your going to want to get your hands on your snuggle bunny :)

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Behind The Doors of The BDSM Club

Most of you have read this, but some didn't catch it over at the other blog. Soooo due to persistent demand for your reading pleasure I give you....(drum roll) my personal experience at an LA BDSM club.

Almost three weeks ago I was in LA for the RT convention, as most of you know. What you also might have guessed is I made a special fieldtrip along with three friends to a BDSM club. Yep, you read right. I went to a D/s playroom. If you want to hear it all continue to read. If you’re afraid I’ll spill some freaky stuff then definitely read on.
First off I will admit to having a few martinis before we grabbed our cab to head out. The drive took around twenty-minutes or so before our sweet driver stopped. Since we didn’t see a sign for the club nor could we find a plaque for the address our driver hesitated to leave us on our own in North Hollywood. The ever-adventurous Desiree Holt took matters into her own capable hands and walked straight into the nearest business. It just happened to be another club that advertised in bright neon colors NUDE GIRLS LIVE GIRLS NUDE. Yep, Des walked in grabbed the bouncer by the arm and pretty much sweet-talked her way into finding out where we needed to go. Poor guy looked like he didn’t know what hit him. Most people are that way after a Des-attack.
Turns out the club was tucked in behind this little white brick facade. You’d never find it if you didn’t know where you were going. No loud music, no shrieks, no blood flying, no sounds of whips, chains or whatever else you might be thinking. After promising our driver we knew what we were doing (LMAO) we turned to go in and found a little black gate that we unlatched and walked through.
The first thing I saw was two smiling, perfectly normal looking people. They were very gracious, courteous and friendly. We each handed over our ids then there were some forms we had to initial and sign. Thankfully we had a lawyer in the group. I waited until she read it, nodded her head and I happily scrawled my signature along the numerous lines. Why the forms? Because the owners want to make sure people know the reality of what they’re walking into. This isn’t a yuppie bar or some goth/vamp dungeon. This place was about understanding and catering to a special need of some people. Not a bad, evil or wrong need, just different. My philosophy of life? If you’re over twenty-one, single, consenting then go for it, baby. So long as you respect your partner’s boundaries and needs it’s all good.
So we past the gate, sign our forms, hand over our money and follow our guide into a very new world.
The ride side of the courtyard is taken up with a long portable table. The kind people use is church or bingo halls. Plain, serviceable and easy to clean. On top of the table sits duffle bags, suitcases and leather satchels. Having my first and last intelligent thought of the night, I immediately understand (it’s later confirmed) that these bags are brought by the members. They contain whatever toys or props they intend to play with at the club. No one uses or borrows anyone else’s stuff, I think it’s considered bad form. Can’t say I blame them. I’ll keep my cooties and you keep yours…it really works for me.
A bright cheery fire was the focal point as a group of people sat around, sipping water and chatting about the cold weather and the Lakers. Major point of interests No alcohol or liquor is sold here. Nothing to impair anyone’s judgment. However bottles of water, Diet Coke, Coke, Sprite and that type is free to anyone who wants it. I grabbed a bottle of water and wandered. Remember I lost my voice so I couldn’t talk to these people.
This was not my brightest idea and it wouldn’t be the last stupid thing I did this night.
So I wandered around while my so-called friends deserted me. We all made a bathroom trip when we arrived then BAM it’s Allie: party of one.
I, umm inhaled tobacco, while wandering. Listened to a few conversations and wondered why these people kept looking at me. Doing a quick body check, made sure everything was tucked out of sight, zipped up or buttoned, I couldn’t understand why these people were staring. Thought it might be my flaring tobacco so I moved to the other side of the white brick wall. Nope, all eyes followed me. Now I really started to get self-conscience. I’d showered before we came so I knew it couldn’t be that. Finally the genius that I am turned to look over my shoulder at the brick wall & low and behold there was the answer.
Turns out they used the wall as a movie screen. My butt was placed smack in the middle of their adult content film show. When I looked up my head ended up perfectly placed beneath the actor’s ‘happy spot’. Talk about being an idiot. Needless to say I scooted away from the wall and to the safety of a nice iron table.
Meanwhile I kept looking around thinking this is nothing like I thought it would be. Where’s the shouting, the pain, the blood, the black leather? I found out, but that’s later in the story.
I need to backtrack here a minute. Thursday night as we all sat in the bar together and talked about coming to this club. One of our members said “You know, if anyone gets hit on or invited to play I bet it’ll be Allie.” As this person knows more than I do about the scene I merely laughed, drank and wondered if she’d share whatever drugs currently pumping through her system.
She was RIGHT. As I sat outside by myself, after being cruelly deserted by my no-longer-good-friends, a man comes up to me. Again, perfectly normal looking, good looking even. Older than me, but still well dressed in slacks, button down shirt and leather shoes. He comments on the weather. I, having no voice or almost no voice, nod my head like an idiot and manage to whisper “Uh huh”. He tries to talk to me, poor thing, and I’m sitting there nodding because I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to be doing. Finally something he says catches my attention away from the porn flick playing to the side of me.
“Do you play?” the man asks me.
Several things run through my mind.
No, I don’t play an instrument. I have no musical talent, as my second grade piano teacher will attest to.
No, I’ve never gotten the hang of basketball. Too many people running after me is not my idea of a good time.
No, I suck at poker because I have no poker face.
Finally I manage to mutter, “Depends on the game.” Thinking maybe he had Battleship, a craps table or even bingo cards hiding somewhere.
My sign “I’m a moron and lick bus windows” will be arriving shortly.
This poor man just shakes his head, sends me a wink and tells me I can find him later.
Yeah, I know it’s amazing they let me out of the house at all.
When reality dawns on me I take off to the last place I saw my so-called friends before they left me. The first room you enter is called a private room. There are two entrances and one bathroom. BTW everything is lit with red or blue light bulbs, including the bathrooms. Weird I know, but I think it helps set the mood and give everything a surreal factor.
So I enter the private room, thanking every deity known to man that’s it’s empty. ‘Cause my luck…I’d walk straight into another situation and proceed to lick windows. In this room there are several tools. A large six or seven foot piece of wood drilled into the wall about six feet up with sets of rings on each side. A queen size bed is position in the center with nothing but a fitted sheet. Across from the bed is what looks like an old fashioned holding stock. You know what I mean two large pieces of wood the top lifts up so you can put you hands in the holes then locks down. This way your body is bent over and you cannot move anything but you lower, most likely naked half.
All the while I can hear erotic music playing or at least sometimes its erotic. At other times it’s Nine Inch Nails pounding out a beat you can feel thrumming through your skin. When you try to take a deep breath you inhale the spice of incense burning. Mix that with the low mood lighting and you have a very potent combination.
This place not only is looking to seduce you body, but the rest of your senses as well in a very intense way.
Three steps leading to the big playroom are to the left of the bed and I make my way over there. I open the door, step through and stop because what I’m seeing is nothing I’ve ever experienced.
A man is strapped to a cross with his back to me, naked. While a woman lashes at him with a very scary looking whip. He cries out, but instead of moving away from her he arches back to her.
Another woman is lying face down on leather padded sawhorse, naked, getting spanked by an equally naked man with a very large paddle.
During all these observations I’m frantically looking for my ship deserting friends and not seeing a single one of them. This makes me very very edgy ‘cause remember I can’t really talk and I’ve had two very good, but potent Lemon-Drop martinis.
The music continues to pump out, loud but not so loud I can’t hear the murmur of conversation around me. I stand there, trying to look like I know what I’m doing when out of nowhere I feel a hand wrap around my arm and tug me backwards. Back into a dark corner I didn’t see and where I’m not sure I should be going.
Then I’m pulled back into the dark and pushed into a lush leather chair with Samantha Cayto’s confused face looking down at me.
“Everything okay?” The hussy had the nerve to ask me.
Remember NO voice.
I gave her the evil frog eye death glare, which she promptly shrugged off and turned her back to me. Scanky bitch (now said with love) I thought, but took the illusion of safety to finally look around me.
This is where I found the screams, moans, leather, bondage and everything I expected and a hell of a lot more.
Desiree Holt, looking way too interested for my sanity, sat directly to my right her eyes glued to the center platform of the club. The wooden floor covered a roughly ten by twelve area and was so currently occupied.
Two women, one in nothing but her underwear lay on a flat table, arms above her head, legs straight down. The other woman, older with her hair in a high ponytail, played a flogger with such expertise I knew years of practice had gone into it. She wielded the flogger, whips, feathers you name it with skill. Sometimes she managed two whips at the same time, each flying through the air so fast you could hear the leather sing through the air, above the erotic rhythm of the music.
The sub only moaned when the tools were applied to her skin. No skin broke under this mistress hand, only the blush of heated skin appeared wherever the leather landed. What surprised me the most in this D/s interaction were the touches of the Mistress. The ponytailed Dom frequently ran a gentle hand along her sub’s back, shoulders and would lean down to whisper something in the other woman’s ear. Sometimes they’d share a laugh or look, but you could tell there was a connection between them that went beyond the games played in the room.
A man’s loud scream broke my concentration away from the duo in the middle. Looking to the left of me I saw an older man, naked, manacled by his wrist and being flogged by a woman dressed in a black leather cat-suit. This wasn’t the same give and take of the last couple. What I was looking at boggled my mind. The Mistress was waylaying on this guy’s ass…well not just his ass but you get my meaning. The harder she hit him the more he screamed and the more anxious he was to get closer to her.
As I said before I’m all for whatever floats your boat, but OUCH. Not so much for me. If I’m getting spanked it better be because I’m losing a game, not having a four inch paddle taken to my bare ass. Hell I even glare at my doctor when he sticks a needle in my booty. Me and my ass say thanks, but I’ll pass on that experience.
Determined not to look, but like a train accident, my eyes keep drifting back there I see one last thing that I’m determined to never see again.
A big ass knife. The kind you always picture being mugged with is now in the Dom’s hand. Granted I knew knife play sometimes came into the picture, but never in a million drugged out fantasies would I have come up with this.
BAK (Big ass knife) held in the, please dear God, steady head of the female Dom stroked down this man’s very happy penis. It trailed down over every rigid vein until it stopped at his happy tip. Then then….oh my eyes…
She put the BAK right into the happy hole & PUSHED! Hell yes you read right. The sub let his Mistress put the sharp blade into his only hope for urinating naturally for the rest of his life. And that was it for me and the happy scary couple from hell.
Time to focus on action closer & less scary with no knives. And what do you know I found our own Lynne Connely into the middle of a ménage.
Brief overview so you can get the picture. I’m tucked in the corner chair with Sam sitting in front of me, a wall behind me & to my right, Desiree Holt directly on my left and Lynne right next to her on her left. These are big comfy chairs we’re sitting in. The kind you can curl up and sleep in on a rainy afternoon. It never, not once, dawns on me why these chairs are so plush or so big. (Told you I had my last smart thought of the night.) Until I see what’s going on over at my partner in crimes corner.
To Lynne’s left a woman in more black leather, bustier & short short short skirt with thigh highs. She’s got one man on a leash & another in her lap. Much kissing, touching and groping are going on. Fine by me, my retina’s are stilling burning from the whole knife issue. OUCH!
Anyway I’m looking at Lynne, Lynne is looking anywhere, but at the threesome next to her. Me, I love to stir things up. So when I happen to catch the eye of one of the Gropey McGrope, I give ‘em a wink and tilt my head Lynne’s way.
LMAO…Hey they left me. It’s only right I get a little vindication out of all this. Yes, I am that kind of girl.
The next thing I know the two men have spread the Dom’s thighs WIDE open, her skirt rides way too high and their heads are buried in her lush woman’s heat (snicker). Remember the legs wide open part? Yeah, one leg is now over Lynne’s chair pretty much in her lap. The longer this goes on, the more excited the Dom gets, the more action her leg give Lynne. It’s tossing, turning, flapping and generally all over the place.
What does the plucky Brit do now, you ask? Simple she ignores it. Meanwhile I’m snickering behind my water bottle and mentally rubbing my hands in glee. Paybacks are such a bitch.
And so is karma because the next instant Sam looks back and me then motions for me to follow her. Umm okay, didn’t we just do this and I got in trouble. Yes, we did, but since I’m a window licker I follow her.
Seriously folks, I’m not stupid. My parents had my iq tested as child just to make sure. Apparently I’m just one of those people that’s so smart their a dumbass. Either that or the incense was getting me high.
Sam led the way through the big playroom. Sounds of moans, screams, groans and wet sucky noises I refuse to identify follow us. We wind our way through various couples engaged in D/s play. Some tied up, some leaning against walls, others bound with cuffs, rope or chains.
Once we make it to the other side of the room there are only two seats left. We grab them, sit down and take in the new action going around. Too bad I didn’t know the action would happen right next to me.
The middle floor had cleared of the two females, now more props were being brought in. A very large man with a beard and ponytail took various whips, floggers, chains and other things I’ll never be able to pick out in a police line up, out of his personal case. He hung them on a rack, stroking them with gentle caresses that made me cringe. Something about it had me thinking I’d be safer outside, mute with the porno flick playing across my forehead.
A table was set up in the middle but to the right of the beard man. A curvy woman walked up to it and sat down. A nice looking guy, older than me, maybe his early forties, followed. Next thing I know her clothes are coming off and he’s locking her down. This guy’s kit looks like a fishman’s tackle box on crack. The thing is huge. A few minutes later I found out why and my poor little brain went SPLAT all over again.
When the sub on the leather table had no clothes left to take off, the Master open his case, pulled out a bottle of clear substance and rubbed or squirted it on the sub. The next thing I know the woman’s boob is on fire and her Dom wipes it out with a stroke of his hand. The sub jolts off the table as much as her restraints allow while the Dom soothes her with gentle strokes and some whispered words. Oh but hell no, if I want to set myself on fire I can think of easier ways to do it that with a mini blowtorch while naked. And I sure as hell would start with my breasts. Umm OUCH!
The fire play continued and without being able to stop myself I kept watching. The thing of it is the sub never got burned. From what I understand NOW she could feel the heat of the fire, but whatever substance her Dom used prevented any damage to her skin. Later I was told this takes a lot of trust between a Dom and his submissive because face it one wrong move and say goodbye to any body hair and I do mean any ‘cause he didn’t stop with just her chest. The fire, literally, went lower.
Next up for my education two woman walked past me. One could have been a model so I naturally hated her on site. The other was an older woman dressed in a nice business suit. No clue what the hell these two were going to do so naturally I had to watch them.
Lucky or unlucky me the set up shop two chairs down from me. The model’s hands were bound and looped through a steel hook coming down from the ceiling. Once the sub was in place the older woman stroked her sub’s skin in such gentle motions I wondered what the hell these two were doing here. Two seconds later I knew. SMACK, SMACK, SMACK the Dom proceeded to open palm slap her sub’s body. Breasts, thighs, ass, stomach the Dom hit them all and her sub moaned in pleasure with every strike. The sound of flesh hitting flesh was louder than any of the whips, floggers or chains. It sounds weird I know, but very very true.
Remember when I said karma would get me. Well, she did in the form of the couple who sat right next to me. The man wore a kilt and made his sub sit at his feet. No biggie I thought. I have a friend that loves anything in a kilt. She would have loved this because I can now officially say from personal experience I know exactly what is worn underneath a man’s kilt.
Oh and he was circumcised. Yep, I was that close and he was that happy. How do I know this because he fisted his hand in the woman’s hair and shoved her face in his crotch? Oral fixation abounds in this place. Someone always had his or her head in someone else’s business all the time. I pulled a Lynne and desperately tried not to look, but hey a guy’s getting head right next to me, sometimes you can’t help but give it a quick glance over.
When I did he made eye contact with me and sent me this slow sexy wink. OMG, this is THE guy from outside. The one who asked if I played and the one I made an ass out of myself with. And the window licker that I am didn’t realize it until that wink. Aughhh! He tilted his head to his lap, asking if I wanted to join the love fest going on between his legs. Ummm, that would be no. You know thanks for the offer, but nope not going to happen.
I now know he grunts when he comes then hisses out a long loud breath all the while able to keep his eyes wide open & staring at me. My education is growing by leaps and bounds.
Where is Sam Cayto in my time of distress (again) you ask? I’ll tell you. She wandered off to go look at another man being dominated with a very thick looking leather whip.
I have got to get friends with better Allie attention-spans. Left to my own devices I’d be strapped down, ball gagged and set on fire and not as a compliant sub. Mostly because my smart mouth wouldn’t know how to stay shut.
The happy couple next to me started getting louder, the spanky couple next to them kicked their Smacks and moans into high gear then we had the knife couple really screaming out across the room.
In the very corner almost to a point where I couldn’t see, but of course, being me, I strained to look. I heard a woman’s voice crying out and not in a good way. When I looked beyond kilt man and his one-woman suction machine my jaw literally dropped. I closed it just as fast not wanting to give the winker any ideas about what I was offering.
A tall thickly built man hovered in the shadows with a woman on her knees naked before him. He had lengths of rope in his hand. My first thought, what a weenie that woman is. The rope isn’t barbed, knotted or bladed. What the hell is she making all that noise for?
I should have stuck to kilt-man and the Hoover.
Rope, I know now, leads to binding. Binding leads to pain. Pain leads to well…pain. At least to me because remember I’m seeing all this for the first time as an outsider, graciously let into a private world most people will never see. Personally for me pain, burning, whipping, smacking, flogging, gagging don’t flip any switch I have. However, to some there is a certain security to handing over all control to another person.
I’ve been told the rope binding is the most technical and difficult ability among Doms. It takes years and years of practice, not to mention butt-full of trust from your submissive. You are restrained in such a way that there is no free movement for any part of your body. You are bound, not just hands and feet, but pretty much everything in between. It’s such an emotional as well as physical experience that when it was over and the Dom removed the bindings he had to secure his female in a cage to recover.
I watched to see her reaction once the male left her. She never moved. Not a twitch, foot tap, nose pick, not anything. She lay there so relaxed as if no one else existed in the room with her. It truly blew my mind. How do you get into such a headspace? Why do you want it or need it, as sometime is the case?
I’ll never know because that’s not the type of person I am, but it doesn’t stop me from wondering.
Pretty soon I was told it was time to go. When I looked at my watch I couldn’t believe how much time had gone by. The dungeon seduced a person with the sheer eroticism of passion and raw alpha power flowing through the air.
The four of us ended up outside by the fire while we waited for a loyal taxi driver to show up again. This time the owner came over to talk with me. Don’t ask! I’ve given up trying to understand why these things always happen to me.
She asked me not to leave. Her Beta Master was on his way. She wanted to me to see his style and mastery. Only ten minutes until he arrived so couldn’t I hold off until then? He was complete alpha and she’d love to introduce us before they started their play.
Honestly and politely I said I had to go. I came with my uh…cough…cough friends so I needed to leave with them as well. She gave me her card and told me we’d always be welcome if we were ever back in LA.
Thankfully Sam showed back up. She’d been searching the kitchen for homemade cookies the owner makes. Once Sam said her thanks and goodbyes we left their world and walked back into the reality of Los Angeles.
The moral of this story, girls and boys, is to never drink before going to a BDSM club, never lose your voice and most of all use a buddy system. Or else bring better friends than I did!
Those hussies thought I was off ‘playing’ or being played. Oh well I’d probably have left their asses too if they were dumb enough to wander off in a strange place.
So there ends the tale of a nice Texas girl in a BDSM club in North Hollywood. I didn’t even get a t-shirt. But I’ll always remember my time there, not to mention the tendency to blush anytime I see a man in a kilt.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Ohhhh the abuse & sympathy friends for poor pathetic Allie

Yes, you read right. I'm pathetic, nobody loves me. I know I know shut up, right? Well, here's my deal. Brenna Zinn, an up and coming author, challenged me. The person with the most FB friends at RomCon in October wins. The loser must buy drinks. All of you know how I feel about losing and about drinking. Needless to say I'm imploring, begging, whimpering for friends on FB. Yes, I know some of you have already friended me, BUT there are sneaky quiet lurkers on this loop. It's to those sniper like members I'm bribing (if possible). Friend me, have your friends friend me. I cannot have Brenna beat me and treat me like her b#tch for days. I'm a delicate flower & I bruise easily. If I win the FB friend-off then whoever shows up at RomCon will share in the bounty of my liquor and my friends. I'll even pimp out Desiree with her what you will. If that's not enough I can throw Nicole Austin in as a bonus. There's also talk of each of us bringing a bottle of flavored vodka..HINT HINT. I'm after the cotton candy myself and I'll SHARE.
Now go forth & pimp me. Share me with your family, friends, dentist, your vet, your aunt, your aunt's vet. Heck, tell your ObgyN all about the fab that is me. It's not like you have anything better to do in those stirrups, right? Think of all the wonderful conversations you can have :)
So please if you love/like/tolerate or just want me to shut up then help me to win the friend war!!

Smooches & Kudos,

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Desiree Holt is my um...prisoner!

Okay so she has a whip, gun, and set of chains, but a girl can dream, right? Brenna Zinn, the evil frog lover and kicker of puppies & old people, has stated I can't have more friend on facebook than her! HA! HA! I say 'cause you know I CAN kidnap everyone's fav erotica writer and blackmail people into friending me. Yes, I know it's not a good way to make friends & influence people, but come on Brenna LIKES frogs & got all snarky in my face. Not good on a Monday so I think with the combination of bribes, intimidation & kidnapping I should (hopefully) be able to win this thing by a landslide. Just to show I'm not all about the victory everyday I'll randomly, as in close my eyes & touch the screen, pick a winner for a free copy of one of my backlist books.

Friend me & Save Desiree Holt
Friend me & more people will like you
Friend me & help the environment
Friend me & I'll help spread erotica to all

Thursday, June 16, 2011


Please read through the whole post. This is a killer and people should be aware of it. Ignorance is no longer bliss. We need a cure! Support a great cause. For anyone who sends me pics of their light on 8/17 will receive a prize. Totes, books, travel mugs & more up for grabs!

Gardner's Syndrome/familial adenomatous polyposis is a chronic, incredibly painful and terminal disease that approximately 200,000 American men, women and children endure without hope for a cure, and Americans are not the only ones affected—it hits every age group, ethnicity, and country on the planet. There is little to no research being done, little medical knowledge to help the doctors who deal with it (I was told by a doctor that all he knew of it came from ONE paragraph from one of his medical textbooks that he more or less memorized to pass an exam while in med school), and often, by the time the diagnosis is made, the damage done is far too extensive to hope for much quality of life.

Worse still, the average life span for anyone is 35-40 (meaning age at time of death, not how long you have after diagnosis); far too frequently, however, children and teenagers are struck down before they can ever have anything resembling a life.

There are no celebrities to help publicize the need for help or to educate the public, nor are there organizations offering support and help to those who suffer it, or for their families; medical poverty is the norm, along with guesswork from medical teams and abandonment by families, spouses, and friends.

It's more than time for a change, it's time for action. On August 17, 2011, we are asking that everyone who reads these words join us in lighting the darkness of ignorance by making luminarias and lining their driveways, walkways, porches and/or any path that leads to their front door. 

Let the world know there is a danger, a nightmare no one knows about, and share hope with those who have little by lighting their darkness.

I'll be lighting the first one, and on it will be written my husband's name and the date of his death on one side, and on the other, LIGHT THE NIGHT FOR GARDNER'S SYNDROME.

Please email this to everyone you know; forward it, post it on a blog, print it up and put it on bulletin boards….but share it. Don't let one more person die because the night stayed dark.

Monday, June 6, 2011

Teasing Trinity scores 4 stars!!

Title: Teasing Trinity
Author: Allie Standifer
Publisher: Total E Bound
Reviewer: Tallyn Porter
Rating: 4 Stars
Heat Level: O

Trinity Mailer has four best friends: Recee, Emma, Olivia and Briley. Unbeknownst to Trinity, her best friends spike her drink and entrust her incapacitated body to Dr. Hunt Windslow. Waking up on a remote island with no way off until a private plane picks them up in two weeks sounds like paradise if it weren’t for the fact that it’s with Hunt, who left her after a glorious night of sex. But for Hunt, he has two weeks to romance and ask for Trinity’s forgiveness.

I love that Trinity is no wilting flower after her break up with Hunt. She stood her ground and fought him every step of the way. With the exception of her meddling friends, Trinity would have lived her life avoiding Hunt. But a life without the one you love is no life at all and that’s why Hunt went to great lengths to abduct Trinity to prove to her that they belong together. Trinity and Hunt are so good together that it’s hard for me to dislike Hunt for long. Both have suffered a broken heart and calling a truce just makes everything better especially when Hunt’s dominant side takes over in the bedroom. Their love scenes are quite emotional, highly erotic and very stimulating. Oh my, they definitely heat up the sheets! At the beginning of the story, I was as angry as Trinity was with Hunt. His cockiness made it very easy to stay angry at him. I still didn’t trust Hunt even when Trinity started to drop her shields. I actually wanted to kick him in his manly parts. But like Trinity, I couldn’t stay angry at him for very long. The way he gave himself to her and vice versa was intense and magical, I was quite moved. The paradise atmosphere was the perfect environment for this emotionally seductive journey for Trinity and Hunt. I love the relationship between Trinity and her friends and I look forward to reading their individual stories to get better acquainted with the other Club Botticelli stories in this series.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Mom's, Mother's, Mama's, & Mimis

It's that time of year again. When we celebrate all that is MOM! We buy gifts, take her to eat, shower her with flowers, cards and hopefully good chocolate. What we don't do is actually tell her how much she means to us & how grateful we are to have her in our lives. I'm not just writing about the female that shoved you out of her womb. There are all sorts of mothers out there that didn't give birth, but their amazing mothers anyway. Grandmothers, aunts, godmothers, sisters or even older friends can and do have a motherly influence on us.

As an adult I understand I hit the lottery jackpot with my mom. When I was a kid, however, whole different story, but then again it's it always?

I've got that rare mom who has supported me from day one, no matter my crazy dream or which direction life tossed me Mom was there to support me. She's propped me up when life threw me down, kicked my butt when I didn't want to make a choice, cried when I was to afraid to break down and loved me through every mistake, award, pitfall, bad review, first sale, loss of a friend, and the death of my fiance.

Most of all Mom never said "I told you so" when she had many chances to do so. Because my Mom is normally always right even when I hate.

Thanks to my Mom's example I learned how to be compassionate, caring, a lover of animals and a mostly decent human being. The faults I claim as my own because to be perfect would make life less interesting.
I've heard it said that you've developed you basic personality by the time you're three. I have no idea if this is true or not, but there must be something to it. My mother's love made me the person I am today.
Lessons My Mother Taught Me
My brother, my sister and myself, regardless of how we fight amongst ourselves, will race across a busy freeway to rescue an animal.
Welcome strangers and friends alike to our homes without a thought of what they can do for us.
We share our blessings, money, food or clothes, with our neighbors, friends and church family.
Every child is a miracle to be cherished and loved.
People are to be judged by their actions not the color of their skin or the diety they worship.
Money doesn't create happiness, but it can ease the burden of worry.
When you give your word it's a lasting promise. People with honor, even in this day and age, should act with honor.
Burdens shared lighten the load.
Open our hearts, homes and lives to anyone brought home without caring about background or external apearences.

My Mom is a truly amazing woman. She's lived through things that I could never imagine. She has more strength than any man, but never forgets she's a lady. Her heart is generous and open. Give her expensive chocolates, wine or presents and she's happy. Give her a plant and a little dirt Mom is ecstatic. (A gift I didn't inherit)

I never know how to say thank you for all the gifts she's given me. How do you say I'm grateful to the woman who has given you everything and asked for nothing in return? Everything I am, the person I want to be is tied directly to the way I was raised.

So thank you Mom for being a beautiful woman on the inside as well as out. For living a life I could emulate with pride. You continue to amaze me as you age with grace, beauty and wit.

You truly are a lady!

Werewolves in the Marines!!

Mini-rant in the first paragraph. Sorry I can't help it, but the rest of the blog is all good & all about the sexy thumb challenged shifters :)

So much as come out & gone down in the last week dealing with Bin Laden's death. As I always say politics has no place in the romance world. Unless your hero is a sexy Senator races through the country to save the world :) However the more news stories I watch the more dumbfounded I become. Have we as Americans become so desperate for entertainment that we'll risk our soldiers for our greed? When the news broke Sunday that the terrorist leader was dead all anyone could or would say was that it was a military operation. You know, I was just fine with that info. The bad guy was dead, the good guys made it out okay and everyone gets to go home. Apparently I'm in the minority. Reporters have dug until they discovered what branch of the military went into the actual take-down. Narrowed it down even further to the Seals. Bad enough, right? Then the ego driven idiots NAME the darn team!! And they throw in where the team lives, trains and gathers. To the great shock of...oh no one the next day a pipe bomb was found under the bridge the members of the unit drive on to get to their base. Did anyone but me see this one coming? Really? These men risked everything for their country & people. What do we give them back? A chance to get blown up on their way home to see family & friends. Ackk, this drives me crazy. When will enough be enough? I don't have to know the names of every man and women in the military to pray for them. I don't need to know where they live to be grateful for their sacrifice. I sure as heck don't want their lives endangered because I'm too greedy to leave their private lives private. These are our soldiers, not Hollywood bubble-headed celebrities. We have no rights when it comes to invading their privacy. These heroes have trained for years to do the job they did last Sunday night. Millions have been spent on their education and training. I don't begrudge a cent of it. So let's let them do what they do best. Remain in the shadows, watching our backs and protecting the freedom we daily take for granted.

Now this week in the NYT there was an article about a dog strapped to solider parachuting into the target zone. The dog had its own goggles, breathing mask & emergency chute. Seems the canine was a regular member of the unit and brought along to CYA everyone. If Bin Laden had been hiding this four pawed solider would have sniffed him out and given America a great victory. As it was he stood side by side with the rest of our soldiers, sometimes running ahead to make sure the way was clear.
People, is anyone else thinking secret covert werewolf operation? It's perfect really. Soliders go in under cover or under fur (lol) who's going to pay attention to a dog. But you give a wolf human intelligence under the right circumstances POW & BAM it's like Batman & Robin in Care-Bear suits arrive to safe Gotham City.
Even better we have were-bears & were-tigers train as Navy Seals. Think of the power they'd have. Power only used for good, of course :)
Hmm, were-eagles as scouts. Were-ferrets as spies. Were-whales as underwater mine experts. Oh I could go on and on, but I'll have mercy on you..for now.

Think of all the stories you hear about animals assisting in rescues, bomb sniffing dogs, cat's that predict death, dolphins saving humans from sharks. Really how hard is it to take this one step further?

Now if we have all these good were animals risking their lives to help save the stupidity that is humanity there must be a flip side to the coin, right? Well there is. The most evil base creatures in all of existence is the ...were-frog! That's right frogs! They may look small but the power they hold is legendary. Too bad they use it for the dark side of the Force.

Anyone else have ideas for our friendly neighborhood were creatures?

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Three Wicked Writers Plus Two

Forgot to share this in case no one knows. I'm also posting at Three Wicked Writers Plus Two. I've shared my BDSM club experience and misadventures. Various comments have been left that had me laughing until my sides hurt. Very big topic of interest to many many people. Head over there and look it over. Let me know what you think :)


Misconceptions and other fun things

I loved my parents. They are amazing and my number one fans, but there are problems. My Mom thinks some of the topics I write are odd.

LMAO, umm yes they are. She asked me yesterday what my latest project was & I told her demons. Whoa buddy, she didn't like that at all. "What? Demons are evil. How can you write about those things?" Like my last book didn't include a reincarnated rapist serial killer? Different boats for different folks, I guess.

However, she got me thinking. Does everyone hear the word demon and think EVIL? I never did. For some reason I always pictured these creatures as a different species. I got lucky enough to write on the topic and discovered everyone was wrong including me.

According to the experts...cause there are so many demons running around sharing and all, they are not totally evil or were never bad to begin with. Some were ancient deities or spirits of nature. The connotation of evil in association with the name came from later religious sects that moved into their area.

Ha! So what does that mean? Absolutely nothing other than we let history make our judgments for us without knowing the true source of our prejudice. Funny how things work that way, huh?

Maybe it's boring for the rest of you, but I'm having a grand old time delving into the demonic world. Discovering truth from "fiction" and all that. And it led to more thinking on my part, what if the creatures of fiction we think are bad...aren't. Maybe trolls aren't mean and ugly and giants are stupid. Maybe fairies are hussies who get drunk on flower nectar and pelt innocent humans with acorns?

Oh yeah, my reality is always a fun place to visit. And yes, you can pretty much bet that all the above ideas will be seen in future books as soon as the plots come to me. I love turning fictional worlds upside down.

It's good to be ruler of my world :) Then again no one else will let me rule the real world.


Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Wanna hear the truth about Mr. Jones?

Get ready for Cerise Deland's wild, wicked & wonderful new release, Me and Mr. Jones. It's really starting to heat up. Now find out why...

What woman wouldn’t crave an annual erotic, exotic rendezvous?
With a demanding lover who’s proven over and over again that he’s as scintillating and devoted in bed as out, Corin Campbell tears open her instructions for her yearly tryst with her insatiable Mr. Jones. Eager to experience what heart-pounding excitements Mr. Jones has created for them both this year in Paris, Corin knows that the Chinese love balls, her leather outfit, the masseur, the caviar and the five exhibitionists are only prelude to hours of intoxicating delight in Jones’s arms. What can he teach her this year about the enduring charm of his loving and the delights only he can summon from her?

Dear Reader, This weekend in Paris offers nibbles of exhibitionism, BDSM, M/F and M/F/M/F/M. C’est bon!

Buy link: ME AND MR. JONES ~

But when she told the desk clerk she was here to join Mister Jones, he nodded politely as if he understood the nature of her appearance here. He must, she assumed, because he did not ask for her passport or any other identification, as most hotels did for security. Mister Jones, Corin concluded once more, had done a marvelous job of preparing the receptionist staff for her arrival.
Mademoiselle, s’il vous plait, please follow this gentleman to your room.”
Grateful and eager as a cat now, she walked to the elevators and rode up in the gilded little cage to the designated floor. Would Mister Jones be here? Would she have to wait much longer to see him? Have him kiss her? Caress her? Tell her how he’d missed her?
Mademoiselle?” the bellboy drew her attention as the doors swished open. Then, he led her down the corridor. At the end, he unlocked the door, deposited her luggage in a large closet to one side of the expansive foyer and led her to the sitting room. In the middle of the floor, he stopped short. She stood to one side of him, her nipples beading, her pussy swimming in fresh cream, her heart pounding.
“Is there anything else I may do for you, Monsieur?” he asked the man seated in the far corner in a large red velvet chair.
“No, thank you, you may leave,” said the rakish blond creature, yet his green gaze absorbed only her.
Long delicious moments passed as the bellboy left and the man in the chair took in her appearance from the tips of her black suede knee-high boots to the long black river of her hair, her pouting mouth and her eyes.
“You stun me,” he told her in that bass voice that rubbed her nipples raw with need each time he spoke so soft and low.
“As do you. Your instructions have been irritating, darling.”
One side of his mouth drifted up. “Is that all?”
“Never all.”
“Tell me then.” He threaded his fingers together, twiddling his thumbs. Self-satisfied bastard.
“Demanding.” She took a step forward. “Exciting. Inventive.”
“You were surprised?”
“I was.”
He nodded, his ash blond hair catching rays of the afternoon sun, his crisp white dress shirt brilliant in the lush décor of whites, black and regal red. “I am gratified.”
“Would you care to be more gratified?”
In assent, the other side of his mouth hitched up. Here was her Mister Jones with the grin that he wore only for her. The full appreciation of life that destroyed the stern-faced businessman and brought forth her lover. Corin’s Lover, he called himself on these rendezvous when he did not refer to himself as simply Jones.
 She spun in a three-sixty to view their surroundings. The sitting room was sumptuous, even more so than the spa she’d left minutes before. The bedroom, she could see at one side, lay beyond. And the edge of a huge mattress beckoned. But she knew she could not, would not spoil their fun by running in and throwing herself on it. Mister Jones had worked so long to create this year’s rendezvous, she couldn’t simply tear her clothes off and beg him to fuck her.  She would be a good girl, go along for the anticipation of fulfillment.
She strolled forward, a slow seductive roll of her hips, her pussy gushing in more cream at the sight of him. Her nipples hard with need at the mere hope he might soon lick her and suck her there. When she drew near him, she nudged his knees apart with one of her own and stood between his legs. Here she could inhale his citrusy cologne, the one he wore now always, the one she had had privately blended for him two summers ago when she went to Grasse in the south of France on a site research trip for a film that had failed to green light. The fragrance of the lime and cedar on his skin had her swallowing hard in need. Yet, she did not touch him. Not yet.
“What would you like first?” she asked him, her voice failing her because her desire for him was so palpable. This was his weekend, his commands ordered the events. “Shall I open the last envelope?”
“That is for much later, cherie.”
“What then?” She leaned over, drawing near to his wide slashing mouth and the temptation she always yearned to taste first and often. “Shall I kiss you?”
“Remove your street clothes,” he told her in a hush.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Trinity's here!

Oh yes finally Trinity's story is here. Just wait until you see what those wild women of Club Botticelli have done now.

Teasing Trinity by Allie Standifer now available from Total E-bound Publishing. Get your copy today!
Book four in the Club Botticelli Series

Some mistakes can never be forgotten, especially when they turn up looking hotter and sexier than ever.
Last year Trinity made a mistake. She had one night filled with the best sex of her life. In the morning he was gone. Gone as in left the country gone.
Hunt ran from the best thing he’d ever had, but now he’s tired of running and denying the woman who haunts his every thought. Time to play dirty.
Trinity wakes up in another country, alone on a desert island except for the one man she can’t forget or forgive.
There’s a long way to go before Hunt can get the woman of his dreams back in his arms, but the more she balks the less he can resist Teasing Trinity.
Reader Advisory:Beware this book contains a pissed-off kidnapped clothing designer, one sneaky hot doctor and an island paradise where everything is possible. This book contains fun D/s, bondage, naughty words and sand in some very uncomfortable places.
By reading any further, you are stating that you are 18 years of age, or over.
If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.
Copyright © Allie Standifer, 2011
All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Total-E-Bound.

Excerpt From: Teasing Trinity
Somewhere in her brain Trinity Mailer knew something was wrong or at least not very right, but the comforting sound of her friends’ voices kept her from worrying. She floated around in her own head, not able to open her eyes or move her limbs, but her ears worked perfectly.
“She’s almost drooling,” Olivia whispered right near her ear.
“Well, shit. How much of that stuff did you give her, Recee?” Sweet Emma’s concerned tone almost made Trinity worry, but even that temporary feeling faded away.
Drifting in a cloud of medicated bliss she moved along, barely conscious of the strong male arms that carried her protectively pressed to his chest.
“Hell will have a new location once she wakes up, Hunt. I, for one, plan on being far far away. Like someplace in the rain forest or maybe Siberia. She’ll do very bad things to my body, soul and checking account when she gets back.” This was Briley’s voice and Trinity wanted to pat her friend for having such good sense. Of course she’d come back and ruin all their lives…or she would once she got over feeling so damn good.
“Oh come on,” Ethan said. Olivia’s love-monkey fiancé’s deep tones were sceptical. “You slipped a roofie in her drink, Recee. This is the plan all four of you dreamt up and perfected. Don’t tell us you’re having second thoughts.”
“Friends do not let friends drug friends,” Emma’s soft whisper brushed Trinity’s ear. “This is so wrong on so many levels.”
“You’re telling me. I hear the North Pole is nice this time of year.” Briley had an eager note in her voice. “I can always use it as an opportunity to expand my travel business.”
“You go nowhere without me.” This came from the new man to their group, Carter Moore. Mr. Sensitive and Reliable, all around geek king. The man so in love with Briley Evans that he had faced Recee—knives and all—without flinching. Love made fools of the best of them.
But still, while she mentally twirled in her happy place, Trinity did feel general good will to her friends and the men they’d found to love them. Only Recee and Trinity remained the hold-outs to love, but Trinity knew sooner or later a man would come along to sweep her smart-mouthed friend off her feet and into his bed. Well, this perfect man would have to tunnel his way through Recee’s fetish for knives and other deadly sharp objects. Trinity wondered if Recee’s obsession went hand-in-hand with her other focus in life, designing curvy women’s accessories. Making all those necklaces, earrings and what-not had a tendency to keep her friend armed. What with working, cutting and shaping all the metals Recee used, sharp objects were always within her reach.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.” Briley’s sugar-sweet tone broke into Trinity’s thoughts. “But we’ll need to start packing right away. I don’t want to be around when she gets back.”
A male snort followed Briley’s declaration. “Trinity’s not all-powerful. She’ll be pissed then get over it. There’s no reason to be afraid.”
Everyone went silent around her. Trinity could picture her friends’ amazed stares directed at Brock, Emma’s hunka-hunka-burnin’-ex-military-love. Yeah, Brock might be all big and bad, but the solider played by the rules. Well, most of them. If she didn’t count the time he kidnapped Emma, but still he couldn’t even enter Trin’s playing field. Trinity believed in winning at all cost, no matter who stepped onto the pitch.
“Be afraid,” Olivia whispered,” be very afraid.”
“This is ridiculous,” a man growled.
Trinity knew that snarl, and knew Hunt all too well. Even in her fogged confusion he presented a danger she had no ability to fight.
“I’ll take care of her,” he said. “She’ll take whatever revenge she wants out on me. The rest of you will be safe.”
“Safe, my ass,” Olivia said.
“I’ll protect your ass and everything else.” Ethan had a smile in his voice.
The sound of kissing drifted to Trinity before she felt the cold wind of Avalon’s winter brush over her uncovered cheeks.
Her body shifted as Hunt pulled her closer to his warm chest. “This is my last chance. Thanks to the private plane and island I’ll have plenty of time and privacy to convince her I’m here for good. She doesn’t stand a chance of running away from me with no way off the island but boat. Plus, Briley assured me there’s no phone, Internet, cable or anything resembling modern communications. Trinity will have to deal with me if she ever wants to leave.”