Monday, December 12, 2011
I'm over at Persephone Magazine today sharing the cheery story of a holiday shopping trip that involves a shopping cart, the kindness of gawky teenage strangers, and kicking. Lots of kicking. Read more here.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
See with your very own eyes the wonders of fashion in the year 2000! At least according to one 1930s newsreel.
Apparently, I was unfashionable when I married in 2001, as my wedding dress was not made of glass. I guess instead of stepping on a glass after the ceremony, one could just step on the unfortunate bride.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
On Monday of this week I got laid off from my day job, so I'm looking forward to drowning my sorrows in turkey gravy and pumpkin pie. But not together. That's gross.
BUT! I have so much to be thankful for that I'm not gonna let some &^&%$#@-ey corporate persons ruin my happy day.
REASONS TO GIVE THANKS:
- My beautiful husband, who came home on my firing day and said, "Look on the bright side. In a month you never have to look at those jackwads again!" The truth will set me free.
- My wonderful family, who immediately offered to perform evil acts upon my fire-ers. Which I turned down. Ahem. I did!
- My cat, who threw up in honor of my emo feelings.
- The roof over my head, the food on my table.
- The glorious California weather.
- My blankie, who is always there for me.
I pray you have many, many reasons to give thanks today and every day. God (and the employment fairy) bless us, every one.
PS: You know, if you're reading this thinking "Oh, no! Lucy lost her job!" feel free to buy a copy of my book RAGNAR AND JULIET. Read the opening chapter first (see links at the top of the page) to make sure you'll like it before you spend your cashola. XO
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Pardoned Turkey Says, "Thanks for Forcing Me to Live Alone in a Worthless World Without My Entire Family, Assholes."
Washington D.C. / November 23, 2011 — In a press conference today, President Obama’s pardoned turkey gave the straight gobble about his new life as a free bird.
“Well, I guess it’ll nice to not be on the dinner table tomorrow,” said Liberty the Turkey. “I need that day to go to the memorials for my wife, Freedom, and my cousins, America, Constitution, and Pursuit of Happiness.” Liberty’s parents were gutted last Christmas at the family home of a politician. “I won’t say who,” said Liberty, “but he knows who he is *cough*RickPerry*cough*.”
Liberty shuffled listlessly on his spindly legs as he pondered the fate of his entire family, ruthlessly slaughtered so that humans could eat too much and burp on the couch in front of football. “Of course,” he added in sad turkey tones, “I’m not the first to suffer losses. Let’s ask our Native American friends how they feel about this holiday. Bueller? Bueller?”
Several reporters remarked that this press conference was a real fucking bummer, but that they would forget it all tomorrow when they dug into a nice pumpkin pie. Also noted with surprise was Liberty’s ability to flip the bird, even without possessing fingers.
Friday, October 28, 2011
This is from Just Erotic Romance Reviews:
Juliet Lawrence, of the New York Lawrences, is a successful bounty hunter, successful enough to have decorated her ship in antiques and herself in large wardrobe of trollop-sexy clothes. Having accepted a contract from King William the Nefarious, she hotly pursues Ragnar Manscape, only to find herself deeply attracted to the alien space captain, whose crime was liberating one of King William’s enslaved concubines. As Juliet debates whether to bed her captive or turn him over for the money, King William’s staff of Bad Guys captures them both. As Ragnar helps devise an escape plan, Juliet discovers the joys of having a partner, especially one with such a talented tail, and finally finds herself in a relationship that could last a lifetime.Ragnar and Juliet, a lovely spoof of space operas and romance, is grounded in a fine storyline, with strong, well-developed characters. Juliet is a delightfully New-York-mouthy woman with a taste for trash in clothes and one-nighters. Ragnar, on the other hand, is an alpha male with a soft heart (he let his little sister name his ship Bobo), who wants to bring her home to meet his family, after having mind-blowing sex with her. And the sex is hot! The supporting characters are nicely done, as well, particularly King William the Nefarious, whose taste in women runs toward the totally submissive dressed in Princess Leia. Ms. Woodhull’s humor avoided slapstick and had me laughing almost every page. When Juliet finally handles her commitment issues and quits running from Ragnar, I wanted to cheer. Ragnar and Juliet definitely deserves the JERR Silver Star Award. It’s delightful! This book definitely goes in my re-read stack to keep me warm this winter!
If you’re wondering what the JERR Silver Star Award is (I was), it’s this:
Silver Star: This rating is for those exceptional short books consisting of 100 pages or less. The ones the reviewer feels she won’t forget because of its exceptional quality. It engaged the senses in a way that she became the story, that she couldn’t lay it down and would return time and again. These books are the best of the best.
DAYUM! My hubby found this review and he got all choked up and proud of me over it. Thanks, JERR!
Monday, October 3, 2011
Thanks, Lucy, for inviting me here to talk about my novella!
I discovered a long time ago [in a galaxy far, far…well you get the picture] that alien shifters are HOT.
So when I sat down to write my sci-fi rom-com MARRIED TO THE MIB, I knew I wanted there to be an alien shifter involved somehow. I put out the intergalactic call for shifters, and a steady stream of amazing creatures paraded through my brain. None of them seemed quite right, though. Not until Ruben Throckmorton showed up.
Ruby is the long-suffering partner of MARRIED’s hero, Spencer Ward. While Spence is the down-to-earth, upstanding half of their dynamic duo, Ruby’s the one who’s a little bit better at riding the ragged edge of disaster. He’s got skills. Chief among them his ability to shift into his anteater form.
Sexy, am I right?
Yep. That’s right. He can shift into an anteater. Well, an alien who looks suspiciously like an anteater - enough to fool a class of pre-schoolers and a couple of crafty canines at least.
Spence may be the hero of the piece, but Ruby is the guy with the plan, the guy with the tail and the guy with the leather leash. Here he is in action:
“We’re overdressed.” Ruby’s remark, designed to draw Spence out of his emotional cesspool, received no response.
Spence adjusted his black tie and the cuffs of his jacket. He pursed his lips in concentration and followed his ex-wife’s path along a small man-made pond, around which an eclectic collection of four-legged pets and their largely oblivious owners paced off their morning constitutionals. Those humans who weren’t sipping half-caf lattes from Styrofoam cups or chatting on cell phones clutched bright white or yellow “doggie doodie” baggies in their free hands.
“We should have worn jogging suits,” Ruby whispered.
“It doesn’t matter. This is just recon. I’m not going to approach her now.”
Ruby stared sidelong at Spence. The whole point was to get the mission over with as quickly and cleanly as possible. Too much recon would just prolong Spence’s well-hidden agony. “When, then? You don’t want to draw this out any longer than you have to.”
“Soon. She’s heading around the pond. Let’s go, keep visual contact.”
Ruby scanned the park. In the golden glow of the autumn morning, their black suits would stand out like tears in the space-time continuum. They’d already gotten a curious glance from a lady walking two Irish Setters and a questioning yip from a passing Chihuahua.
“Why don’t we request telemetry on her apartment and meet her there when she’s done with her walk?”
“Because she’s not going there.”
Ruby raised a brow. Dulcie had reached the far side of the pond now and stopped to talk to a woman on skates, who led a slender platinum-brown Weimaraner by a silver chain. Her floppy-eared mutt eyed the purebred dog with visible disdain.
“And you know this because…?”
“That’s not her dog. It belongs to her friend Vivienne.”
“Oh.” Without Vivienne’s DNA, they couldn’t get telemetry on her place.
“So we have to follow her.”
“I thought that was the plan anyway.” Exasperated, Ruby initiated genetic resequencing. His ears and nose began to elongate. His forearms and legs shortened, and his clothing even transformed into a coat of coarse, mottled gray and black fur.
With his head now at the height of Spence’s knees, Ruby glanced up into his partner’s horrified face.
“What the hell are you doing? Somebody could have seen you.” Spence did a quick scan around, but their shadowy hiding place was secure for the moment. “I didn’t tell you to shift.”
Ruby lifted a four-clawed foot. “I took matters into my own…hands.” Half-Myxmerian on his father’s side, Ruben possessed the ability to shift his molecular structure from human to alien form. Myxmerians had perfected their long-tailed, quadruped form as a defense mechanism, which allowed them to hide in plain sight when the occasion called for it.
“And what is this going to do? No one’s going to believe you’re a dog.” Spence’s harsh whisper grew louder.
Ruby snorted and pawed the grass. “Of course not. This form is far more attractive than a canine but just as serviceable.”
Spence closed his eyes. “Just how is a bushy tail and a long snout serviceable in this situation?”
Ruby chuckled. With his voice somewhat compressed to fit into a slightly smaller body, the sound came out a bit too high-pitched. He tried to clear his throat, which in turn sounded like a wet slurp. “It’s not the tail and snout that are important at the moment.”
“Oh, and what is?”
“The extremely hyper-developed leg muscles.” Ruby would have grinned, but his extra long upper lip didn’t move that way. He snorted instead and took off running toward the pond.* * * *
The sight of his four-legged, fur-covered partner loping across the manicured lawn leading to the artificial pond might have been hilarious in some alternate universe. In this one it was nothing short of a mid-air collision. Spence could have named any number of realities he’d rather have been in at the moment—most of them post-apocalyptic.
Cursing, he ran after Ruby. He should have let him chance being picked up by a roving dog catcher, if any still existed, but something propelled him from his hiding place, halfway around the pond at a dead run and right into Dulcie’s path.
When he and Ruby had left ISTA headquarters a few hours ago, he’d thought he’d had the scenario all figured out in his head. They’d find Dulcie, and she’d seem less vibrant and beautiful than Spence remembered. There’d be no spark of humor in her eyes, no lilt of laughter in her voice, nothing to touch the empty spot her absence had left in his heart. It would be easy for him to hypnotize her, take her statement about Y’Nori’s death and be on his way to a cold, sour Rangorian beer and a long, lonely night in his bunk. Case closed.
He’d managed thus far to ignore his own racing pulse and the bittersweet memory of how she’d felt nestled in his arms in the VIP stateroom the Bojzhan had given them aboard Decadence after their wedding ceremony. He’d had everything about this mission under control—except for Ruby.
On his stubby legs, the Myxmerian barreled toward the fluffy, white dog standing next to Dulcie. It took the mutt a moment to process, but once she noticed the black and gray ball of fur heading toward her at warp speed, she did what any canine in her position would do. She barked, ran around Dulcie’s slender ankles looking for cover then yanked hard on the leash, toppling Dulcie.
Now caught on the ground between a yapping dust mop and a crafty alien, Dulcie spent all of three seconds looking stunned.
Spence raced toward her, afraid she’d start to scream and work herself into an emotional state not conducive to hypnosis.
“I’m so sorry, miss. Are you all right?” Those hadn’t been the words he’d planned on saying to her when he saw her again. This mess bore no resemblance to the fantasies he’d harbored of their eyes meeting across a crowded room one day as he strolled back into her life to reclaim the love he’d been forced to give up.
Her response, however, was dead on. “Oh my God! I can’t believe it.”
Spence’s heart stopped. Did she recognize him? Maybe the mind block ISTA had used to wipe her memories hadn’t taken. He met her gaze, and his breath stilled in his lungs. “I know…it’s—”* * * *
If you want to get to know Ruby better, look for MARRIED TO THE MIB at:
All Romance eBooks
I can guarantee you’ll never look at anteaters the same way again.
Friday, September 23, 2011
I used Palmolive Soap to “live my romance.” It worked! I was magically transformed into a secret princess named Sophiey with violet eyes and was kidnapped by a renegade pirate duke named Sebastian — but the experience was not at all what Rosemary Rogers and romance novels have led me to believe.
First of all, I suddenly found myself in 1798 and let me tell you, it stunk. What stunk? EVERYTHING AND EVERYBODY. My special fucking soap lasted about a day on that gross-ass ship and after that my charming duke smelled like the dumpster at Long John Silver’s.
Secondly, I was forced to wear a super uncomfortable gown made of wool even though it was approximately nine million degrees Fahrenheit in the East Assies or wherever we were.
Lastly, even though renegade pirate dukes are supposed to be awesome at ship-ey things, we ran aground and thereafter died of scurvy. It was better than eating each other, which is what the duke suggested. No, I don’t mean in the fun way.
I’m afraid I simply cannot recommend Palmolive. Ladies, use some damn Irish Spring — please!
An Unsatisfied Customer
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Well, it's your lucky day!
I'm at Killer Chicks talking about my favorite kick-ass scifi heroines. Come on by and tell me all abut yours.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Thank you Lucy for letting me loose on your blog…I’ll try and leave it nice and tidy.
When Lucy and I discussed swapping blogs for our new books we had no idea we were both releasing with Liquid Silver Books on the same day, and both writing comedy. What a fantastic co-incidence.
So, let me share a little about my book, MALE ORDER, REIGNING MEN VOLUME ONE. This book has been affectionately nicknamed ‘The Man in the Hat,’ although more than one flustered female fan has made the comment, ‘He’s wearing a hat?’ The hero has a habit of making out with himself in his reclining chair wearing a cowboy hat and socks. How does my heroine know this? Well, if you kept hearing your flat mate yelling, ‘Yeehaw ride ‘em you got it babe’ wouldn’t you want to investigate?
Available now at http://www.liquidsilverbooks.com/books/maleorder.htm.
Want to know more?
Here’s the blurb.
Meg’s mother can't even say the word sex. Her great aunt is a nymphomaniac. The few men she’s slept with left her frustrated. The closest she’s come to sex was as the unwitting visual aid for hot flatmate, Sam’s, cowboy style, wanking session. No wonder her libido went on permanent vacation and she substitutes ice-cream and chocolate for sex.
With so many hang ups, why does she agree to no strings sex with Sam? Why is
hunky, strip club manager Michael bent on seducing her? And why the hell does she invest in a male escort business offering extra services?
Sam’s delighted when he convinces Meg to let him go looking for her missing G
spot. A ride on his wild stallion shows her how good sex can be...with the right
man. One encounter leads to a dozen. Sam is living every man’s dream, sex with no commitment, too bad it’s not his dream.
His new life turns nightmare when Michael enters the scene. Will the Irishman steal her away, or will his involvement in her Male Order business lead to a disaster that gives Sam a chance to prove to Meg their relationship is more than a sexual rodeo?
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
As you can see from this, my husband is a very generous and understanding person. It's not every man who would look at the script for this thing and agree to film it, edit it, and not divorce me. Then again, he's pretty used to my nonsense...
Gaaaaah! RAGNAR AND JULIET broke the top 100 in Fantasy, Futuristic & Ghost on Amazon on my first day! HOLY CRAP!
AND I am 4000something in the Kindle store!
Monday, September 12, 2011
Yes, you can finally buy RAGNAR AND JULIET! (That's a link to Liquid Silver, where you can buy direct. You can also get the book at AllRomance and Amazon.)
There are many ways you can celebrate this blessed day. Here are a few suggestions:
1. Buy the book. Duh.
2. Throw a ticker-tape parade down Fifth Avenue. No, I will not bail you out of jail, but I will applaud your commitment to the cause.
3. Name your cat after me.
4. Name your child after me.
5. Name yourself after me.
Check out the right side panel for a my blog tour dates and links. Lots of hijinks and some giveaways, so go look now. Well, after you read the rest of this post.
I'm over at Smart Girls Love SciFi today giving away a copy. But that's no excuse for not buying your very own copy. It's the least you can do if you won't name your son after me. And you call yourself a fan...
Friday, September 9, 2011
I have fans and everything. Hope I still have them after the book comes out. Maybe I should take a screen shot...
So please be my fan and mark my v. v. important book (RAGNAR AND JULIET) as a to-read. If you do, the First-Time-Author Fairy will visit you and leave a tooth under your pillow. I know that doesn't sound too appealing, but what if I said that the fairy looked like this? Now we're talking.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
I don’t know what you did this weekend, but my husband and I finally got down and dirty…
filming the Ragnar and Juliet book trailer.
Our house is a disaster of spaceships made of shoe boxes and duct tape, Barbie dolls in stupid outfits, and cat hair in the shot, except we didn’t notice it until we’d done four takes. So if you watch this crapfest and see giant cat hairs, well, that’s just “ambiance.”
I spent most of the time painfully laying flat on my belly, arms way out in front of me close to the ground, making Barbie and Ken (Ragnar and Juliet) hump, or jump, or chase. There were actually moments when my husband wanted them to get too graphic for my taste. Yes, turns out I have taste.
This thing is so stupid. I really wonder if it’s a good idea of a spectacularly bad one in which I scare off more readers than I attract.
But we laughed so very much, even more than we snapped at one another. Too bad no one will hear any of the dialogue I gave to the dolls. My husband lost it several times. Of course, I think the liquor helped. There is no part of this thing that was produced 100% sober, and I’m proud of that.
We broke out the fog machine. I decided that we are awesome because we own one to just use whenever we want to.
Now my man will edit it, hopefully to be completed by Sept 12th, my release date. When you see it, please lie and tell me that the hours of work that went into it were not a waste of our precious lives.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
And I'm like
It's better than yours.
Damn right, it's better than yours.
OMG I love it so, so much!
Okay, that last line doesn't rhyme, but can you blame me for going a little crazy for this cover by Lyn Taylor?
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Don't listen to them. The book is wonderful!
I'm setting up a blog tour for September with links, giveaways, miscellaneous fun crap, &etc. I've also added a sample from the book under "books," so you can get a succulent taste right this very moment.
I AM SO VERY EXCITE!
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Funny that just as soon as I decide "no more romance for me, I'm going to write humor exclusively," a door opens, or a dumbwaiter, or something.
My friend Nico Rosso met up with his editor at Liquid Silver Books at the recent Romantic Times conference and told her that he had a friend with a space opera novella. (Friend = me, novella = Ragnar and Juliet.) The editor said to send it her way. I didn’t even ask Nico to do this! He is just a boss like that. So go buy his book Taken to the Limit because he’s awesome.
Saturday, mid-afternoon: Lucy takes a final spit 'n' polish to the MS, e-mails editor.
Saturday, very shortly after: Editor says she's itching to add the rom-com space opera novella to her e-reader. Lucy figures hey - at least the query letter is good!
Sunday, mid-afternoon: A new e-mail from editor lands in Lucy's in-box. Lucy says to self, "Well, self. That was the fastest rejection on a full ever. Where's the booze?" Except that it wasn't. It was a contract offer. With the words "please say yes."
PLEASE SAY YES?
DOES NOT COMPUTE. WE ARE USED TO BEING CALLED “HILARIOUS BUT TOO WEIRD FOR PUBLIC CONSUMPTION.”
What does a girl do when there's no BUT?
She says, "YES!" of course. Said girl is not stupid. (I still reached for the booze, but instead of sad whiskey, I drank celebratory champagne!)
In a few short months, you will actually be able to pay for the privilege of reading my
In other booky news, I'm about to start querying my SUPER SEKRIT ZOMBIE BOOK, a humor/ gift book. AND I GET TO SAY I HAVE A PUBLISHING CONTRACT IN THE QUERY LETTER! How freaking great is that?!
So, I'm back. I feel refreshed from my social networking hiatus, but I'll be here more regularly now to share the process of being published for the first time, and random thoughts, and stupid pictures, etc. I'm sorry that the quality of this blog will not improve.