So, it’s noon and I’ve yet to come up with anything interesting to blog about today.  I had such good intentions, but unfortunately my creativity just isn’t cooperating.  Story of my life lately. LOL

But for the sake of babbling about something, I’m going to pose a pretty basic question that’s been rolling around in my head the past few days, after finishing yet another book whose author looks at “sex” differently than I do.  I’ll explain…

In this particular book, the hero and heroine engage in a heated moment that leads to him going down on her.  (I have to interject here that she’d never come before with a man and she did with the second flick of his tongue after what seemed like about five minutes of foreplay.  PUH-lease.  Like I believed that.  But anyway…)  Later on, the two meet up with the hero’s daughter and the heroine is nervous to face the girl now that she’s “had sex” with her father.

Okay (grrrrr…).  To me, this couple most certainly did not have sex.  “Sex” to me is the actual Tab A inserted (hopefully more creatively than that ) into Slot B.  Obviously oral is a very intimate event as well, sometimes even more intimate than actual intercourse.  I get that some people might call it “making love” even, because of that intimacy.

But it still grates on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard that people don’t differentiate between sex (the tab and slot kind) and messing around (the lingual and digital kind LOL) like I do.  I know…I’m anal as hell.  But it’s a pet peeve I can’t seem to get past.  Sorry.

So, now I ask…what constitutes “sex” to you?  Do you agree with the author and heroine?

(As I’m sitting here, it’s just dawned on me that I haven’t thought of this beyond a hetero relationship and that, depending on one’s sexual orientation, oral could definitely constitute “sex”.  So bear with my closed-mindedness, if you will, and realize my issue is with M/F relationships.  Thanks…)

Happy Monday…

~Ally

Fridays tend to be pretty chaotic for Ally and I. So as usual, we post just about whatever tickles us at the moment. For me, this little jewel came as a result of a work brainstorming session. I walked out of the meeting singing this song and have yet to purge it from memore. This has always been one of my favorite movies, with this particular number being one I am quite attached to. So I am sharing with y’all. Hope you enjoy.

Okay, fashionably late. With all the buzz about Twilight, I just didn’t think it would live up to the hype. However, a couple of close friends told me I would regret passing this little tale by. Being a fan of paranormal stories featuring the fanged and devilishly handsome, I succumbed and bought it. After all, who knows what I like to read better than friends I dish books with on a regular basis?

So I read and the verdict is in. I am one hundred percent without a doubt smitten. Head over heels for Edward. I could seriously have a love affair with that character and never regret one moment of it. To have a character that is so flawed, yet so appealing, will sell me on a story every time. You have to love the fact that he struggles to accept himself while trying to hold on to a shred of humanity.

I am ever so excited to move on to the next book in the series so my love affair can continue the only way it can. Ok, well until December 12^th when the movie comes out and my sis, second mom, and I have a date with Edward. (Yeah us and about 5 million other drooling women.

Sigh, all I can say is why didn’t he find me before Bella?

Jennifer LeBrecque at The Soapbox Queens blogged about meeting her husband a couple of days ago and, of course, it got me thinking about how my husband and I met.  Unfortunately, it’s not a very exciting story.  We met at a bar and he tried to pick me up.  I was seeing someone and, as arrogant men often do, my now hubby tried to persuade me that I’d be better off with him, blah, blah, blah.  I was soo not impressed.  Yet, three weeks and a broken heart later, I called him and the rest is history.  I’ll spare you the sordid details–honestly, it wasn’t pretty– and just get to what I’m actually going to talk about today.

First loves.

We all have one.  Or at least I hope we all do.  If it wasn’t “love”, we probably at least have someone in our pasts that touched us somehow.  So much so that years later we remember all the sordid details–hopefully bad ones in a good way, if you know what I mean–like it just happened yesterday.

I have two first loves.  I say that because I’m not really sure that I loved number one, but he was definitely a big part of my life and, since he oh so cleverly weaseled his way into my shorts and pink butterfly panties at an age I’m way to embarrassed to share, I pretty much have to include him in my trip down memory lane. 

His name was John and we lived only a few miles apart by highway, even less by the dirt backroad that ran through the woods behind my house.  On this dirt road was a cabin that no one ever seemed to visit.  In the front yard of that cabin was a detached, screened porch-like building with a swing and whatnot.  That little building was never locked.  And neither were my legs.  I gave it up on the floor next to the swing like a shaky, on-the-wagon alcoholic at a keg party.  Of course, it sucked and I ended it before it even really started, but I was ruined nonetheless.

Two years later, I met my true first love.  The one whose name still gives me butterflies to this day, some 15 years laters (don’t do the math if you know how old I am…you’ll never think of me the same LOL).  His name was Jason, he was two years older, from the “wrong side of the tracks”, and he wanted me bad.  Unfortunately, I was too young and too smitten to think to play hard to get or anything (obviously, given the whole porch floor incident).  We passed notes via friends (you know, the ones folded and tucked like triangles?) and eventually we were a hot item.  He lived only a few blocks from our school, so naturally, in between school and games, I started to hang out at his place and, needless to say, “things” happened only a few weeks into our relationship.  We had to bide our time, right? :)  We ended up dating for almost three years.  Around two and a half years, the summer before his senior year, he joined the National Guard and left for basic training.  Despite nearly daily letters and weekly phone calls, I eventually grew bored and started seeing someone else.  Jason came home heartbroken and despite our efforts to fix what I broke, we didn’t last and he ended up cheating on me with his now wife.  Talk about getting what you deserve, right?

You’d think the story would have ended there, but, haha, not even close.  Since the point of this post is first love and the first time, I’ll summarize the following two years by saying that Jason and I had a hard time keeping away from each other and often used each other when we were either between relationships (me) or fighting with our other half (him).  Two weeks before my family moved (a month before I left for college), he started calling again and even showing up at my house after his second shift job.  But I couldn’t be the “other woman” anymore, so, after a lot of tears and hours of talking, we finally called it quits for good.  (A month later, his girlfriend was pregnant, so my guess is, he got from her what he didn’t from me LOL)

So, now that I’ve given you way more information about my life than I’m sure you ever wanted to know, why don’t you share the scoop on your first love and/or your first time.  Don’t pretend that my story hasn’t gotten you thinking about him (or her) and don’t pretend you don’t love rehashing it.

Happy weekend…

Ally

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A cult of sex faeries start taking men hostage…including Claire’s boyfriend.

Book Two of the Curtain Torn Series

When Myrna Terrence’s husband is abducted from her dream by fairies, she asks Claire for help. Claire investigates and discovers other married men of Four Corners have been kidnapped. Men who share enough similarities to suggest the kidnappings may be related.

She learns the abductions are the work of The Aeval, a cult of sex faeries whose mission is to ensure women are pleasured by their husbands. Dell decides he and Claire should go under cover—under the covers. By pretending to be a married couple who are having trouble in bed, they hope to lure The Aeval to them.

The plan works almost too well. They don’t have to fake the chemistry between them, nor the resulting frustration when they stop themselves from going too far. The Aeval take the bait, and Claire must confront a goddess, the truth, and her fears about Dell in an effort to save his life.

But if she succeeds, those same truths may be what sends him out of her life forever.

Warning: this title contains the following: hot nekkid men with wings, regular nudity, and prolonged sexual tension followed—finally—by explicit sex. And the faeries who punish husbands for not “pleasing” their wives are entirely fictional (sorry!).

Excerpt available…here

And you can buy it …here

So, I’ve started yet another story.  I think this might be around the fifth in the past few months, but, hey, I’ve gotta get it right one of these time, don’t I? :)  Anyhow, I’ve noticed something–okay, not really a new development…I’ve known for awhile that I do this–and I’m wondering if it’s just me or if this is a trap other writers fall into as well.

Here’s my deal: 

All of my heroine’s look essentially like this woman…

In my head, they are always a variation similar to the above model and this new story is no exception.  Now, my best guess as to why I do this is because, well, I personally would love to look like this smokin’ hot.  Love the hair, the perfect skin, the nice rack…  Who wouldn’t want to look like her, right?

I also love short hair.  And redheads.  And ponytails.  Yet, I never write heroines with those traits or styles.  It seems I’m stuck in long, curly haired brunette rut and it simply befuddles me. :)  To be honest, my hero’s look basically the same, too.  I switch up hair style and eye color every now and then, but for the most part, all of of my men are over dark haired, built, and over six foot.  Ehem…can we say cliche?

So, am I the only one who does this?  Or do images of all sorts of shapes, sizes, and hair colors come to mind when you get new story ideas?  Share, share, share!! 

Happy Monday…

Ally

Seeing that it is Friday, I am feeling the need to let loose. This song gets me moving and puts me in a good mood. Not to mention the images of dancing, scantily clad, and close with a hot guy that come to mind… now if that can’t inspire I don’t know what will.

Happy Friday!!

For non-writers to ever really understand what it’s like and what it takes to be a writer?

I’ve done my fair share of griping about my sometimes supportive, sometimes not supportive husband ever since I joined the world of blogging and online writerdom about a year ago.  I’m sad to say that some twelve months later (remember that this is just since “coming out” publicly as a writer), things have not changed. 

I’ll spare you the details, because if you’ve heard me complain once, you’ve heard my complain a thousand times–it’s always the same.  He just doesn’t “get it”.  Granted he’s got a lot going on right now and he usually apologizes for being so ridiculous, but, by that point, he’s already expressed his disapproval and skepticism and there’s not wiping that from my memory.  Especially when he argues the same argument everytime the issue comes up.  It’s kind of hard not to realize that, while he may “seem” supportive when we’re not arguing, deep down he is not.

What the hell can I do about that?  Sell, right?  Make some money?  I see that…I really do.  But, maybe I’m just making excuses here, it’s a bit difficult to put my all into a project when I can’t even get a couple of hours of peace and quiet a week, let alone on a daily basis.  He thinks magic is supposed to just *poof* happen.  He honestly hasn’t a clue about ups and downs and muse and no muse and all that.  We writers have to keep trying to produce the next great American novel (or whatever it is you’re writing), whether or not our mojo is flowing.  I’ve even went so far as attempting to equate writing with his love of hunting:  Just because he doesn’t get big buck one year, he tries again the next year and the next and the next.  But I just got the blank stare on that one.  Grrr…

For the most part, I ignore my husband and his eye-rolling family, because I know (from the support of my online writer friends) that I am not the only one who feels the way I do about writing–I am not a freak.  Despite my low points lately, I still love it.  Like Dolly & Whitney, I will always love it.  I don’t expect my DH or my family to love it, too, but I do expect them to regard my writing like they regard their hobbies (and, yes, I cringe to downgrade my writing to a hobby, but I’d be happy if I could get at least that much understanding out of them).

I don’t think I’m asking for too much, am I?

~Ally

So, I’m hijacking the fun, collaborative Friday post to do a casual one of my own since I skipped out was lucky enough to have Monday off because of Memorial Day. I know you missed me, right? LOL

Anyhow, the hubster and I have been making big remodeling plans for next spring (when we hopefully have some $$). Of course, I’m excited about everything we want to do, but I’m damn near ecstatic that the renovations include…finally…an office for me! Yay! Woohoo!

Okay, so admittedly, the space isn’t going to be huge–it’s actually going to be half of what is now my front porch (the other half will be used to extend the boys bedroom, which will then become the master). I can’t find a measuring tape anywhere, but I’ll give an eyeball guess that my new “spot” will be about 10′ x 9′, which is like way huge compared to the roughly 5′ x 4′ spaces I’ve been hopping back and forth from in the house over the past year (the living room, the bedroom, the living room again).

Anyhow, while it may be dinky, it’ll be ALL MY OWN. My own little piece of heaven. I’d love it to look like this…     I’d even be really happy with this…   But, reality check here, it’ll probably look something like this… Clean (haha), simple and spacious–I need a big desk for all of my “research” material. And forget those abstract pics behind the desk–mine will most likely be buff, half naked men. And the walls will likely be bordello red with heavy red curtains on my window. And since my space will be the former front porch, the insurance company wouldn’t be too happy if we didn’t keep the front door (you know, in case one of my smelly man candles gets out of hand), so I’ll probably paint the inside of that a sexy, crimson red, as well. *squee*

You have no idea how excited I am. Yes, this project is an entire year away, but I’ve waited for what seems like forever already (we were supposed to do it this year in another part of the house, but that’s another long story)–I can wait a little more.

I wanted to close this post with a link to a site someone hooked me up with last year, showing a mess (sometimes literally) of author desks and offices, most of the pretty well-known. It was fun to see where others make the magic happen. Alas, I cannot find the damn site for the life of me. This one is an “eh” substitute. Scroll down to the comment section for a few links to famous authors’ desks. ROFL. At least my desk now doesn’t look quite so tornadous (just pretend that’s a real word, ‘kay? ) as Jennifer Crusie’s.

Happy Weekend, y’all!
~Ally

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