Coloring Outside the Lines (with a New Release)

Why did you do this to me? 

I’m an extremely dominant woman and usually can’t be told what to do, unless it is in role-play, but unless you are my mate, don’t even think about it.  So, what I concluded is that I have a very hard time hearing ‘you belong to this box’.  I belong in no-one’s box.    So I did not write a non-interracial book to irritate fans or to do anything but the obvious: to avoid being pigeon-holed.    I could have come up with another pseudonym but I  already have enough muses talking to me, I really don’t need another ‘voice’ coming at me with ideas.  So I wrote a non-IR work for no other purpose but to flex my literary muscle.

Love is colorless 

It doesn’t matter what color of skin you live in, all that matters is that love conquers all things.  Now, could I take some flack for not being a certain color and writing about a heroine in that color? Yep, but I’m not hearing you.  Love is colorless and no matter your pigment, you know distress, you know romance and you know emotions.  Emotions are not based upon how much melanin is in your skin or what ‘hood’ you grew up in.  As far as I know, rage is rage, hurt is hurt and love is love.

The New Release

As you can tell from the cover, this is a non-Interracial book that exceeds color lines.  LOOK AT THAT COVER!  How could you not want to write about them?  Look at that embrace, the look in their eyes.  It is sensual, seductive and erotic.  How could I not craft a story for this wonderful couple?

Initate and Ignite
Initate and Ignite

So now that you know somewhat why I wrote this  touching and endearing story of a PTSD suffering Marine and a touch therapist, how about an excerpt to entice you?

Blurb – Massage therapist Celine Beauregard came across all types of people in her line of work; those who were nice, and those who could be classified as the scum of the earth. Then there was Gunnery Sergeant Xerxes Talmay, a war-weary vet with a case of post-traumatic stress disorder. Something always ached in Celine when she set eyes on the tall handsome Marine, and her job was to help. The soldier needed different therapy, and Celine decided it was time to initiate the man to the true power of touch.


Perhaps it was her mind playing tricks on her. She’d like to think she’d always kept the relationship between her and Xerxes one hundred percent professional, but in his arms now, she questioned why she always made him the last appointment of her day. Maybe it was because she wanted his face to be the last face she saw before she settled in for the evening.

“I’ve never tried to dance with a client before, Xerxes. This isn’t typical.” Celine felt like she needed to defend what she was doing in his arms, as if there was some sort of code of conduct she signed. The only code she was going by was her own personal morals, and she didn’t want to feel like she was taking advantage of someone.

“I wouldn’t think it was typical for you, and if I had any inkling that it was, you wouldn’t have seen me after the first session. I’m a Marine, Celine. I’m trained to spot inconsistencies.”

“Then you and I are a lot alike. I’m trained to spot them as well. Care to tell me what you think your anchor is, since I’ve been trying to figure it out,” Celine said. She didn’t expect him to twirl her around and dip her in a move that could have been in a Fred Astaire movie. When he pulled her into his embrace, and wrapped his arms around her, her body involuntarily shuddered with delight.

“My guess is that my anchor,” Xerxes said as he looked her up and down, “is you.” His gaze strayed to her lips again. She knew he was going to kiss her even before he licked his lips. It was the look in his eyes, and she wasn’t going to stop him. Her eyes fluttered closed even as he took his time leaning down to her lips.

The kiss was as soft as a whisper, at first, dancing across her lips, leaving the memory of his mouth on hers. Working with Xerxes over the past months, she’d always kept her distance, letting him find his own pace with their sessions. Now, in his arms, she realized the months of touching him, trying to soothe him, she’d formed an attraction to him that went beyond his mere physical appearance.

He raised his head from the kiss, his deep brown eyes burrowing into hers, making her feel hot, desired, wanton and scared shitless all at the same time. She met his gaze unwaveringly, and tried to read his expression. It was lust for sure. She’d seen that plenty times before. However, Xerxes lustful look contained just enough longing to make her womanhood clench.

“Will you be my anchor?” He asked as his lips descended on hers again, this time, the light kisses were gone. His tongue plundered her mouth as if he was on a mission to capture every single one of her breaths and inhale it as his own. Over her mouth, his tongue raked against her lips, his teeth nipping the corners, his hands roaming over her bare back. Every motion whipped up a frenzy of lust that made her feel faint. He broke the kiss, and she had to take in big gulps of air.

“Anchor me, Celine. Be the calm in the midst of the noise.”

If you want more, click the cover and head on over to Beautiful Trouble Publishing to get your copy. 

Until we meet again, love is limitless, color outside the lines and break free from stereotypes.  


Chased Through Montana eBook Available Now…

Chased Through Montana Available Now


This is my newest work, and I am so happy with this cover art.  I am glad to say that Chase Daniels needs a book all of his own…  so tasty…

Here is an excerpt:

Detective Layla Owens, after shooting a perp during a drug raid, was placed on mandatory administrative leave, with an “extended vacation” according to her old-fashioned captain and lieutenant. An “extended vacation” to think about her position and all the “things” she could do to make the problem “disappear.” Apparently catching the bad guy and shooting a drug dealer meant you had a problem—if you were a female cop. Disgusted by the captain’s obvious lust for her body, Layla took the leave and hightailed it to Montana. But once there, Layla didn’t expect to run in to someone far more dangerous to her body than criminals or the Maryland PD: Chase Daniels.

Chase Daniels had been around long enough to know that good women don’t just fall in your lap. Women desired him, and he didn’t have to run after any woman—except the day Layla Owens showed up at Stone Ridge. From the moment Chase saw her, all bets were off, and he couldn’t wait to let this detective to frisk him! Why didn’t she drool over him or at least try to get his attention? Chase isn’t used to being the one doing the chasing, but he will pursue the elusive but captivating Layla all up and through Montana just to make her his.



“Ranger!” I yelled, coming around the corner at full speed. I skidded to a halt, the tips of my running shoes turning green in the lush grass. Ranger, the damned traitor, was lapping the face of someone. The dog’s tail was wagging like he’d just found his best friend. Then, the someone spoke.

“Okay, okay lil’ buddy. Since I just fed my girls, I guess I can feed you too. Where’s your papa?” The man’s melodious voice flicked a switch in my body. His tone was a deep and rich vibrato with a hint of a Southern drawl. Yes, his voice was like whisky, and I was already drunk. I bit my lower lip to get myself into check, or to stop the moan that rose to my throat. Five years of celibacy and this man had me wanting to throw my panties at him, and he was only talking to the dog. He could have a face only a mother could love, but his voice alone made me want to pant and drool. Damn.

I cleared my throat and walked over to the man as I watched him scratch Ranger behind his ears. His hair was a darker black than Ranger’s coat. His back was broad, straining against the plain gray t-shirt he wore. His blue jeans looked well worn, and he was wearing them well. As I checked out his jean-clad bottom, I crossed my arms in front of me.

“Ranger has a mama, not a papa,” I said slowly. The man didn’t jump at all; he wasn’t surprised by my voice, as if he expected me to be there. Then, he slowly rose from his hunched position. I think I now know what that little boy Jack must have felt when he was watching the beanstalk grow. Holy Mother was this man large and in charge. I thought he was broad? No, he was a barn. I could see just how muscled his thighs were. He made a proud, tall six-foot woman like me feel like a pocket toy. He had to be at least six foot seven. I must have been drooling, because I felt a gnat fly in my mouth. I smacked my mouth shut and tried to pry my eyes from his chest to his face.

Big mistake. The cerulean glare pinned me to the spot. This man was dangerous. I don’t know who he was, but my cop instinct was telling me to be careful. I had to get back in control. I wasn’t in high school anymore; I was thirty-four, damn it which meant no drooling over guys, barns…whatever the hell old blue eyes here was, I shouldn’t be drooling!

He didn’t have on a hat, or a Stetson like many of the men I’d seen passing by, but he touched his two fingers to his head and nodded just the same, and then he smiled. He had the nerve to have perfect white teeth against that tanned skin of his.

Please God, don’t let him work here!

He walked toward me with an extended hand, a sure smile on his face. Taking my hand in his much larger one, he gave it a firm shake.

“Well hello, Mama.” His voice was more dangerous than the criminals I locked up back home. Whatever it was this man was made of, they needed to bottle it and sell it to us lesser mortals. The combination of his warm hands and even warmer voice had me weak in the knees.

I was here for a vacation, not to get caught up in sinful pleasures with whatever his name was. I tried pulling my hand from his grasp, but he just held tighter. I just stared at our hands entwined his tan skin against my chocolate hue; it was definitely a huge turn-on. Damn, I had only been around this guy for two seconds, and I’d thought about sex for most of it. I am in deep shit.

“It’s not Mama, it’s Detective Layla Owens. Nice to meet you,” I said, giving another tug and getting my hands returned to me. I had to put my hands back in my jean pockets or I was going to be rubbing his chest like he was a magic lamp and I was trying to get a genie to pop out. Yeah, his pants’ genie. Ranger didn’t seem to be ready to make a move as he stood by the man as if I were the stranger.

His inky eyebrows knit together as he folded his arm in front of his chest. His smile disappeared.
“Is one of our boys in trouble? I told Grant that a couple of these newbies would be a handful, but I don’t think I’ve heard Sherriff Jim talk about a beautiful chocolate truffle working for him.” His voice dipped to a whisper as he looked me up and down. This man knew how to play the game; every move he made seemed deliberate and attuned to my need. Or maybe it was my need that was attuned to his movement?

I shook my head and widened my stance, as if he were just another perp I was questioning. I held up my hand in order to stop whatever he was going to say next.

“I am not on duty; I am on vacation, from out east.” There came that smile again.

He walked closer still until he was looking down at me with those mysterious pools of blue.
“So then it’s Layla Owens, and we can drop the ‘detective’? Unless, of course, you would like to frisk me…”



If You Can’t Beat It, Run From It. – Private Dancer – Ch. 10

Kasen couldn’t give up control.  So where does that leave him?

Marise was still married, so where does that leave her?

It All Falls Down…Private Dancer – Chapter 7

Where did it all go wrong?   How was Marise supposed to feel on her anniversary when she was dancing with Kasen. 

Kasen could see that her mind was preoccupied, so he sent her home early.   What does Marise find waiting for her?

It all comes crashing down in chapter 7…

Lesson 1 -Private Dancer Chapter 5

Kasen had hoped that she would say yes.  It was the only way he could help her.  He just wanted her in his presence. He knew, deep down, she was forbidden and he would never lose control of his lust, or so he prayed.   Maybe this would help him get Marise James out of his system. Maybe this was his penance for all the thoughts he had about her during her tenure as his secretary. 

Marise stood in shock.   How in the world could she do this? It was worlds better than going to the Harem every night.   She would not need to tell Darryl anything. She hated keeping secrets from Darryl, but, it was not as if Darryl gave too much of a damn anyway.  

“Ok, Mr. Montgomery.  I accept your offer.” 

Find out what happens in Lesson 1 –

Private Dancer – New WIP

I know, you are wondering, just how many works in progress can this woman have?   Seriously, this work in progress has been on my flash drive for about two years.   I have written 73 pages, and every page I want it more steamier, more grittier, maybe a little more heart wrenching and not sex for the sake of sex.   I am asking a lot aren’t I?

Not really.  I started thinking about this story more and more as I was finishing my other stories.   I realize that I didn’t finish this one because I was not relating to the character.  Relating to the character is highly important. 

So I revamped this character into one that is a combination of many of the women I met while being a stripper for two days.  Yes, only two days, I wasn’t really equipped nor did I have the temperament to be on stage letting it all hang out.  I blame youth, I was 21, and I blame student loans.   Trust me, unless you are in L.A. or something like that, there is no money to be made in this line of work.  It isn’t glamorous and you don’t have clients, you have leaches… How do I figure this after two days?  I happen to still know some of the women there and well, they borrow money from me most of the time…

So here it is, the inspired by real life intro to “Private Dancer”

Missing the Heroine…Who can live up to the standard?

Here I am sitting now with a huge dilemma on my hands.  I need to figure out who is going to be the love interest of the complex male character that I created.   Lucian is a complex character.  He isn’t exactly an Alpha but isn’t exactly a Beta either.   

The problem comes in is trying to develop a female that can deal with all of his dark moods, his quirks, his lack of talking and not be a total pushover either.  She has to care for Lucian but at the same time she needs to be her own woman where getting Lucian to come out of his shell is not all that she is living for.

I suppose the first thing is first is that I need to figure out her name.  A name can really shape the character.  I love characters being able to have a nickname as well.  So something that doesn’t sound so bland yet gives her character.    I think all the gemstones have been over done.  Diamond, Ruby, Jade… I could name her Amethyst but that isn’t going to work.

I am starting with what I want the name to mean and narrow it down from there.  I am looking for something that means “silent warrior” or something similar.  That is what she is, a silent warrior, she would have to be to get this hard rock that I created in Lucian.  

How hard can it be coming up with a character that can match him? Well, she would have to be someone who is the opposite of him in order for there to be some sort of conflict there.   She has to be someone who is more of a cat person than a dog person.  Or more family oriented considering that Lucian doesn’t have any.    Someone who adores her friends where Lucian is a recluse. 

Yet, at the same time, she has to be someone who can be taught what a quiet night is like, and someone who can appreciate the things about Lucian that he can’t change and won’t change.  

She would have to be just as complex as Lucian, but with her emotions more on the surface.  That is a problem because that would mean I would need to study someone who is the opposite of me.  I am more like Lucian!  

To the drawing board I go… wish me luck!