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Showing posts from November, 2013

V is for...

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is for Vixen : an erotic tale

She’s hot, spicy. Her nickname is pepper. She is tall with smooth chocolate legs and a plump ass. She is sassy. She plays hard to get. She knows that men like to hunt as she pretends to be prey. Yet that is false.      Certainly untrue. She is the huntress. She is the vixen.

The predator that devours her prey. Some may make it out and others are caught in the web of the venomous spider never to be the same again. They are victims. I was a victim. I saw her eyes on me from across the room. She smiled. I smiled and I was lost in a trance. I felt her energy as she made her way over to me. We talked and chatted for a while and soon I was becoming her little zombie. I would do whatever she wanted me to do. I led her up to my hotel room. We were barely in the room before we were already practically taking off each other’s clothing. My goodness! She was beautiful. Her long legs had nothing on her full chocolate lips and large breasts that seemed to have some force pulling my lip…

U is for...

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is for...Unusual Amounts of Inspiration

Me: (While in the shower) “Hey!” Husband who was in the bedroom yells back. Husband: “What!” Me: “I have an idea.” Silence Me: “Hello, have a moneymaking idea!” More silence.

He is ignoring me I assume. I guess I can’t blame him. In the past week I have come up with several “money making ideas”. One day, I wanted to sell children’s learning books, the next day I wanted to write a compilation book, the day after that I wanted to write young adult books and then recently I decided to start my own organic sugar scrub company (random, I know). That is the idea that is making him ignore me. The one I came up with in the shower. So, I am driving my husband crazy. Okay, so I always drove my husband crazy with my eccentric nature and my complexities. But lately I have gone beyond the usual.
As everyone knows, I suffer from anxiety disorder and severe depression. I also have a slight case of ADD where I bounce from task to task and become so scatterbrained that I c…

T is for...

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is for Tasty Treats


I love sweets. I love dessert. I love to bake. A good part of my time is spent coming up with tasty treats to share. One night I was home talking to my husband about some creations I was thinking of making for Halloween and he just sat there listening with an amused look on his face. “How do you come up with these crazy concoctions?” He asked. “Where do these food ideas come from?” Well, I think about all the things that I haven’t seen before in the dessert world and I make them. I get my love of cooking from my mom and my aunts on my dad’s side. My mother loved to cook and spent a great deal of her time coming up with recipes and jotting them all down. Her dream was to have a published cookbook one day. When she passed, I gathered up all of her recipes one on a mission to share them with the world. The only problem I noticed was that there were not very many desserts amongst the recipes. I’m not surprised. My mother was not a baker. On holidays she left the desserts to me a…

S is for...

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is for Square

I remember one day in Spanish class we were given the assignment to make our family tree. I was excited and nervous. It gets complicated when I have to add all my siblings. Yet I tackled the project with vigor. The overachiever that I am, I wanted to make sure it was neat and amazing. When it was time for me to present my family tree to the class it went like this, “These are my father’s parents Leticia and Square Padgett…” “For your grandfather, use his real name.” My teacher suggested. I looked at her confused. “I did.” “Your grandfather’s name is square?” She asked in disbelief. I nodded. “Yes, Square Padgett.” The entire class looked at me funny. Some snickered and some thought it was cool, but it was true my grandfather name is Square. My grandfather grew up in the South. He was born in 1918 which to me sounds crazy. 1918? Man, I can’t imagine seeing so many changes in the world. My memories of my grandfather were of him given us money on our birthdays to buy a special treat. He…

R is for...

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is for Rated for Mature Audiences Only

I know what you are thinking. This must be in some way shape or form about the material that I write. Yes, the content of my books are for adults and rated only for mature audiences. Yet that is not what I am here to talk about. I want to talk about my husband. I know that pretty much people know who I am married to, but I will reframe from saying his name because he works for a Catholic hospital and they have strict rules about employees. Yet, without saying his name, I am going to talk about him and his vulgar mouth none the less. So just so I can get you to understand why I view my husband as Rated MA, here is a typical conversation my husband and I will have.
Conversation #1 Me: “I am so craving chocolate.” Hubby: “I have a large piece of chocolate over here that you can suck on.”
Yes, everyone assumes that because I am the erotic romance writer in the family I must have the vulgar mouth or the constant dirty mind. No. My husband is so much worse th…

Q is for...

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is for Quiet



“The monotony and solitude of a quiet life stimulates the creative mind.” ~Albert Einstein
Growing up I am not sure how I was able to get any writing done. There were always so many people in my house. Having quiet was a luxury. I stuck to writing poetry and short stories. I never knew why I could never finish writing a novel. I just thought that I didn’t have the patience to finish a novel. Now I believe it was the lack of quiet that kept me from completing my novel. I learned that I need quiet to think. My husband thinks that it is weird that I say this because normally when I write I have the tv on in the background. I have to explain to him that it doesn’t have to be absolute quiet, I just need no interruptions type quiet.

I grew up with 8 siblings and there was never any uninterrupted quiet in the house and in when they moved out they would always come back with more people as in their own children. There was always someone in our house and there was no chance to be alo…

P is for...

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is for...Parenting


“Mommy what’s for dinner?” Said my 5-year-old “Food!” I answered exasperated. That was question number 20 in under five minutes and 10 were, “What’s for dinner?” I shake my head thinking that my mother cursed me. She told me just like she told my other sisters that she could not wait for us to have kids so we can get a taste of our own medicine. She was right. I received mind tenfold. You see, I was a talker. I was an extreme motor mouth if you will. Everyone I met or encountered in my life has discovered that I have the gift of gab. Motor mouth. That is what they call me. But that word would not begin to describe my 5-year-old. Those are the moments when I feel that parenting is hard. Very hard. I grew up with lots of brothers and sisters and when the older ones started having kids, me and my two younger sisters were the designated babysitters. When my sister worked midnights, I would get up in the middle of the night with her baby.  I watched him, changed them, I dressed th…