1) Lennon’s Rain Video Trailer
2) Lennon’s Jinx Video Trailer
3) Lennon’s Girls Video Trailer
4) Lennon’s Hope Video Trailer
5) Ten things in my purse.
Photos of my husband and daughter
My Mac Air
Two flash drives
My iPhone connected to all my email and a Kindle app
My library card. I use it practically every week!
My iPad with the Kindle app
My writing notebook
Trading cards for Lennon’s Girls Trilogy
Reading glasses, sunglasses, prescription glasses.
Chocolate and a sore back. Oh that’s not in my purse!
What’s in your purse? Please respond in the comments.
6) Inspiration behind the book
The characters in Lennon’s Girls Trilogy came to me in a dream. The outlines for all three books were written first, and I wrote several scenes for the last book prior to writing the first one, probably because the final book held so much emotion, pain, and love. The intensity between the two main characters struck me as something that many readers, including myself, could relate to.
The first book Lennon’s Jinx got pinged a few times for having realistic male internals. I get the fact that some women don’t want to be in the head of a teenaged boy. Growing up, most of my friends were guys, and I could easily relate to them. Even though I had zero practical experience in sex until college, I read a lot, so my guy friends often asked me questions about sex to satisfy their girlfriends. Any healthy male, especially teenaged boys, have X-rated thoughts, and I wanted to be true to my character. Though I have to say my copy editor made me tone it down a bit.
I find exploring people’s most inner thoughts allows me to truly understand others. Getting into those dark niches of my friends and acquaintances provide insight into cultural, racial, demographic, and gender differences that make each of us unique. It’s that understanding and digging deeper that makes characters come alive.
What do you love to read? Please respond in the comments.
7) Lennon’s Hope
L: Deep and intense LOVE
E: The EROCTIC stirrings between Lennon and Rain
N: Lennon’s NOBLE acts
N: NUDITY, how Rain bares her soul to Lennon
O: Lennon’s love for Rain is OBSESSIVE
N: Lennon is NOSTALGIC for what once was
S: SEX and plenty of it
H: The summation of Lennon and Rain’s love is HOPE.
O: Rain needs to be OPEN to mend her relationship with Lennon
P: The PAIN Lennon cannot escape
E: The EVERLASTING love Rain feels for Lennon
8) What I Love to Write
I love to write multi-genre stories that cross barriers and spark the imagination. I read everything from non-fiction to sci-fi from romance to political thrillers. I love to write stories that keep the readers guessing. Learning from good mysteries, suspense, and thrillers allows me to inject those elements into romance and my young adult series. Stories that make readers care about the characters and keep them turning the pages are what I strive to achieve.
Unlike many authors, I try to read every written review and often find some really easy fixes to make my fiction better. I don’t agree with everything, but for the most part, I find many of the reviewers are thoughtful and considerate. Sometimes I get a laugh when someone says something couldn’t possibly be true when it is. Let’s face it; truth really is stranger than fiction. Though my work is fiction, I pull from my life and others’ experiences to add in salient details. I research whatever I’m unsure about or where I want more depth. It’s probably not possible to get every detail completely accurate, but I work hard at putting on the characters’ shoes and walking around in them. It’s not what I would do, but what my characters would do.
What do you love to read? Please respond in the comments.
9) TEN BOOKISH PEEVES
Too many typos. I have never read a book that didn’t have some grammar mistake or typo, but if the story is rife with mistakes, I won’t read it.
No research done on the topic. No one is perfect, but when it’s apparent that nothing was researched, the fiction is sometimes irresponsible and hurtful to those who have experienced what happened in the book and make it seem less than the actual experience.
Male and female characters that sound the same, i.e. dialogue, internals.
TSTL. Too stupid to live heroines or heroes. My critique partners jump all over me whenever I have one of those moments. I recently read a highly rated book where a seasoned cop left his loaded guns on his front porch step at the request of a teenaged boy.
Too much narrative. It drags the story. During my rewrites, I try to remove as much as possible.
A male voice that sounds like a valley girl. Guys do not think like women, and women shouldn’t expect them to.
Male voices that all sound the same: sarcastic, testosterone infused, machismos.
Male characters that women instantly fall in love with who are either abusive or have the psychological profile of a serial killer.
POV switches in a scene or chapter or too many POVs. Unless you’re Barbara Kingsolver, don’t use too many because it dilutes the connection the reader has to the story.
The expectation that a writer is perfect. We aren’t. My critique partners catch problems with my work all the time, and I thank them when they do, but I work really hard at doing my best.
What are your pet peeves when you read? Please respond in the comments.
10) ADVICE FOR WRITERS
Experience life. What I love to read is when someone has actually experienced part of what they’ve written.
Join a writers group and hone your craft. A wealth of information can be gathered from workshops and conferences and other writers.
Go back to school. My dad says, “Once you quit learning, you’re dead.”
Find good critique partners. They will help you stay motivated and keep you in line.
Find a good copy editor. Even traditionally published books suffer from grammar mistakes.
Keep writing and do your best.
Read, read, read.
With each novel, strive to be better.
Have fun and enjoy life. Life is too short to dance with mean people.
Smile. More people will want to know and meet you, and that’s where real characters evolve.
What advice can you give to writers? Please respond in the comments.
11) Top ten plus one favorite movies or TV shows.
Titanic. What a powerful love story!
Suddenly Last Summer. This is a really creepy old movie with Katherine Hepburn and Elizabeth Taylor.
Topper with Cary Grant. Really funny movie.
The Little Mermaid. I love the music!
Life is Beautiful. A priest recommended this movie to me.
Gran Torino. Clint Eastwood’s best movie, and he has a lot of good ones.
Blade Runner, Harrison Ford is masculine, no doubt.
Breaking Bad, some of the best writing I’ve ever witnessed.
Game of Thrones, One of the coolest shows I’ve ever watched.
Homeland. This show rocks. A bipolar CIA analyst, but in real life, this would’ve been caught early on. Don’t ask why I know this or I’ll have to kill you—a very dated joke passed around in the realm of the agencies and DoD.
Walking Dead. I cannot get enough of this.
What are your favorites movies or shows? Please respond in the comments.
12) What do I think makes the best love interest?
A man who makes a woman laugh.
A man who loves animals.
A man who has mechanical inclinations.
A man who has common sense.
A man who loves his family.
A man who doesn’t beat other guys to a pulp.
A man who isn’t perfect.
A man who loves to travel.
A man who will attend an art showing, even though it’s not his thing.
A man who can cook.
Who is your ideal man? Name a favorite actor or personality in the comments.
13) Ten Awesome Destinations That Will Inspire Any Author
Soak up the sun and read a good book on the beaches of Moorea (Tahitian island)
See the Terracotta Army in Xian, China
Dive Pink Beach, Bonaire
Visit the Blue Mosque in Istanbul
Belize ATM Tour (wading upstream through a fast moving river, rock climbing to ceremonial site, jungle hike). You could never do this in the States. Personal favorite.
Fly-in for Salmon fishing in Alaska.
Sample wine at Wyndham Estate in New South Wales, Australia.
Ski in Chamonix, France and take the tram to the top of Mont Blanc.
Ride a camel to the Great Pyramids of Egypt.
Visit Jesus’s birthplace in Bethlehem. It’s a cave!
What are your favorite places? Please let me know in the comments.
Jinx is the girl who stops Lennon from having sex with other women.
Jinx is the bad luck that causes Lennon to reevaluate his life.
Rain cleanses of the body and spirit.
Rain is a metaphor for the sexual climax of a woman.
Hope is a gift to Lennon and the love of his life.
Hope tears them apart and brings them together.
I wait patiently offstage. Indigo Blues has been playing for almost an hour, and the crowd loves them.
With sweat glistening on Lennon’s firm chest and abs, his tats shine under the spotlight. I’d like to claw out the Rain on his chest. How dare he put me over his heart?
“We’re going to slow it down,” Lennon says into the mike, his deep voice quivering my abdomen. “I’d like to introduce the love of my life and my wife, Rain from Crank.”
A few disappointed girls boo. Lennon has on leather pants, and it’s obvious he isn’t wearing underwear. That long penis splayed across his pelvis and riding down his thigh is no sock. And when he catches me staring at it, the damn thing grows. He dresses like a slut, but I can’t?
I strut onto the stage, imitating the Marilyn Monroe catwalk. I fake a smile despite the icepick stabbing my damaged leg. The guys in the front rows throw roses onto the stage and even a few girls do. Those must be for Lennon. I pick one up and smell the intoxicating scent. I’d like nothing more for us to be at home, the three of us.
Lennon meets me halfway and closes in on me. I suck in a quick breath, not suitable for singing. My legs shake being so close to him. A mixture of hate and lust fill my belly.
He nods at the band to keep playing the intro. He leans down and ties my shoes, like he did when I ran into him at the sorority party after not seeing him for eight years.
“You’re still my girl,” he says. The crowd quiets to hear him.
When he fingers back his dark curls, like he often does to Hope, a whimper escapes my lips. I glance away from his face, and my gaze lands on his loins.
He covers his mouthpiece and whispers into my ear, “Getting an eyeful?”
Ugh. I’m still staring at his crotch. I can’t help it. He might as well be naked wearing the tight leather.
Tears spring to my eyes. “I hate you,” I mouth.
Hurt shadows his eyes. His hand presses on my hip then glides over my butt, shoving me against his erection. He rubs it against me, and my knees almost give out. I long to carry his baby again, to feel her growing inside, her snare drum of kicks against my belly, to sing to her.
As Lennon grinds against me, a lot of girls groan down front.
“Make love to me,” he says into the mike.
When the song ends, Lennon doesn’t let go of me. He takes both hands and cups my cheeks. What the hell does he think he’s doing? One hand slides up my back and grips the back of my head. My body mutinies me and catches fire.
He leans down and forces my mouth open with his tongue. I struggle against him, but it’s of no use. He kisses me long, hard, and deep. So much desire fills that kiss my body goes limp in his arms.
The arena has grown strangely quiet. I break free, swing my opened hand at him, and slap him hard across the cheek. A handprint blooms there, throbbing a brutal red.
“Women,” he clucks into his mike, holding his cheek.
While I toss in my sleep, I bump into something warm and soft. Half asleep I wrap my arms around her and cup small breasts. Rain’s aren’t small. When my nose nuzzles her hair, the scent is not Rain’s but smoky, reeking of pot.
I stumble out of bed and turn on the light. “What the hell?”
Cindy smiles up at me and pats the bed. She’s in butt-floss panties and no bra. Small, perky tits stare back at me. “Come back to bed. I thought I’d surprise you.”
My mind has a hard time controlling my tongue I’m so out of it. I finally find it. “I am not going to fuck you, so get the hell out. You’ll never be a backup singer for Indigo Blues again.”
She stands, picks up her clothes, like it’s no big deal, and says, “I have a contract. You can’t just fire me. And one way or another, I get what I want.” Her finger scrapes my chin as she cavorts by me. She’s so unappealing the Big Guy is completely limp, or it could be the drugs.
She grabs my dick. “This is mine. You wait and see.”
I push her off, but it’s hard because my body wants to fall back into bed. I won’t do that until she’s gone though. I’m not that wasted.
Carrying her clothes, she struts out of my bedroom door and into the living area—her shirt barely covering her breasts. She doesn’t even bother putting them on.
“You should put some clothes on,” I slur.
“I want to make sure you know what you’re missing.”
I open the door to shove her out, and Rain is standing there wearing the sable coat I bought her and the sexiest pair of red alligator stilettos I’ve ever seen along with black stockings. She came to me. Shit. I’ve been dying for this moment but not like this. Not when I’m stoned.
She snorts out a bitter laugh, not what I’m expecting.
As Cindy squeezes by Rain, she brushes her breasts against her. “Excuse me.”
Rain ignores her, cocks her head, and studies me with those beautiful desert-blue-sky eyes of hers. “You’re high.” I reach for her, but she jerks back. “Don’t. Please don’t.”
I shackle both of Rain’s wrists above her head, so she cannot escape.
She rasps but doesn’t struggle against my bond. Those desert-blue-sky eyes smolder and lock onto mine.
I slam my groin into her, my cock hard and throbbing for her. “Why are you here? To torture me?”
She blinks at me. “Huh?”
“You look so fucking hot. Why would you come here? Why would you hurt me like this?” I smash my lips into hers, hungry and hot, and she fiercely kisses me back. Her tongue collides with mine. “Please don’t do this to me, Rain.” Did she change her mind? It doesn’t seem likely from the finality of the no-contest clause.
Her chin drops to her chest, and her gaze lands on the fresh bruising on the inside of my arm. Without breaking my tight grip, she gently kisses the mark. I wrestle my arm free and hide my shame behind my back while the other pins her against the wall. “I’ve only done it a couple times.” It’s a lie. I’ve shot up a half-dozen times since I got the papers. “I’m not an addict.”
“Please stop.” Her eyes shine with pain for me. “I love you, and I want more children…with you and only you.”
“What?” What is she saying? I avert my eyes and my disgrace. “It’s no longer your concern. I’ve got this under control.”
“You don’t.” One hand wriggles free, her fingers trace my parched lips, and my cock aches for her. “What are you doing with these girls? Do you know how much it hurts me? And the drugs. That’s far worse.”
I slip out of my sweats, and Defcon’s eyes grow to the size of Moon pies, and Cage’s mouth opens wide enough to swallow a water buffalo. Too bad Lennon isn’t around to see this.
The leather bustier I bought for stupid Lennon shows plenty of cleavage, and the matching shorts show the lips of my butt cheeks. It’ll be hard for me to dance regardless. My left hip twinges at the thought of any sharp turns.
We run out onto the stage. We get the arena pumped up during the first five songs, when I spot Lennon coming at me. His lips are curled into a snarl. His arms swing at his side, and his face burns an angry red.
A few of the stagehands go after him, but not before he plucks me off the stage.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I yell. I expected him to be mad but not this. He’s gone psycho.
Shock and embarrassment breaks into a sweat onto my forehead. This is way overboard. “Let go of me.” His touch showers me with sparks. I still love him. I still want him. I just need to be able to look him in the eye without the trapdoor collapsing underneath me.
The crowd goes wild, cheering and clapping. They probably think this is part of the act. The worst part is as mad as I am, my sex tightens with a need so strong that I’m gasping for air. What is wrong with me? He used drugs and cheated on me with low-class, trailer trash.
I yank the mike away from my mouth and beat on his rock-solid chest—the one I curled against when he pulled me from the wreckage. “Put me down, Lennon.”
Trey keeps rapping like nothing’s happened. “That Lennon Tyler is such a He-man,” he adlibs.
The stagehands pry me from Lennon’s grasp after a hell of a struggle.
Lennon reaches for me, but his band mates and the roadies restrain him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Stop. Just stop.” It’s hard to leave him. I should’ve comforted him, but he can’t do this to us just because he’s popular.
Clive locks onto him, but it’s like holding down an enraged bull. “Bloody hell.”
Lennon’s glaring so hard at me, I cringe.
“The mother of my child can’t dress like that,” he growls.