Author of Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy
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Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Boston 2013

The desire to see justice served for what happened in Boston is strong, nearly overwhelming.  But step back for a moment.  Realize that we don’t know yet who did this.  Don’t jump to conclusions, don’t become a part of that old-timey lynch mob.  Innocent until proven guilty.  Remember that.

Remember, also, that we have incredibly talented and hard-working investigators from many agencies and departments working on finding out the “who,” “why,” and “how” of this.  Step back and allow them to apply their intelligence and diligence.  That is why they are there.  That is not your job.

Your job, currently, is to support those injured and affected.  Sign up to give blood, donate to the Red Cross if you can, find agencies that are sending support and go help, or organize a blood drive.  We, the general population, need to care and nurture for our injured and fallen and their families.  We are that safety net, that outstretched hand that says, “it’s ok, I’ve got you” even if we don’t get to say it in person. 

It is simply horrific, yes.  And yes, because the specific damage the explosions caused, mainly injuries to legs, this feels like an attack on the running community, not just Americans in general.  A cop from Rhode Island, Roupen Bastajian, was quoted as saying, “"We started grabbing tourniquets and started tying legs. A lot of people amputated. ... At least 25 to 30 people have at least one leg missing, or an ankle missing, or two legs missing." Think what that kind of injury means to a runner.  But the running community is strong and amazing.  Runners who just finished 26.2 miles turned around and helped the injured to safety.  Think about those good people when the world seems full of bad people.

Three people died, one of whom was an eight year old boy waiting to see his dad finish the race.  What should have been a time of jubilation, personal triumph for the finishers, joyful embraces from the friends and family, was turned into carnage.  Yes, it is easy to want vengeance and want it right the hell now.  But step back for now.  Be too busy helping to point fingers.  The time and place will arrive when we can say with conviction that we know who did this awful thing and then, and only then, will it be okay to lay the blame.  Then we can see that the responsible person or persons is punished to the full extent of the law.  Right now?  Go give blood. Be the voice that says, “I’ve got you.”

Monday, May 28, 2012

Just when you think reality can't get any stranger...

...Reality begins copying fiction...

This was made especially intriguing to me as I'd just finished watching Zombieland with the son (was his turn to pick a movie).  Not going to stop writing about vampires in favor of zombies, but wow.  Just wow. 

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Important Info

Ok this has nothing to do with vampires or cookbooks, but here it is all the same.  Being a responsible pet owner I feel obliged to share this with others after seeing it on HuffPo.  I had no idea macadamia nuts were harmful to dogs.  Here's the updated no-no list for pooches:

Macadamia nuts, avocado, grapes,raisins, chocolate, coffee, caffeine, garlic, onion, or xylitol (in sugarless gum)

Wishing you and all your furry friends the best :D


Sunday, December 18, 2011

Merry Christmas

Wishing everyone a blessed and merry Christmas!  Have been working lately so not as much time for blogging & writing, but I'm still at it . . . albeit in spurts. 

Here's a little song to put a smile on your face....ok, so it's not the normal pair of fangs I mention, but still worth a listen ;)

Merry Christmas, ya'll!

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Sunday, October 30, 2011

New Interview

I was interviewed by Molly Hacker on Lisette Brodey's blog! Go check it out at !

Thursday, August 25, 2011

I'm not dead!

Thought I would share this with you today since I've been a naughty blogger and have been far too quiet as of late.  Blame getting ready for school to start back up ;)  Feedback is ALWAYS welcome!
(for Blood Thief)
Too many people want vampire Celeste St. Ange dead. After discovering the keeper of her bloodline’s reliquary murdered, she takes the vessel from its hiding place, playing right into the hands of the killer. Now that she's brought the reliquary out into the open, Celeste is responsible when it is stolen and faces the ultimate penalty for its loss: second death. Permanent death. When help arrives in the unlikely form of a charming human thief, Celeste must choose who to trust and fast before a murderer destroys her and those she loves.

Joss Larsen was a child when his mother was killed by a vampire.  No one believed Joss then and now, after a string of foster homes and turning to a life of crime, he has begun to think perhaps he imagined that aspect of his mother’s death. That is, until he meets Celeste.  Wanting access to her world in order to avenge his mother, Joss inserts himself into Celeste’s life.  But what begins as desire for revenge turns into to desire of an altogether different variety.

Sunday, August 7, 2011


The following flash fiction is for the 7 Virtues Blog Challenge hosted by the lovely Lady Antimony at: (sign up is toward the bottom of that page).  Once again, as with the 7 Deadly Sins blog challenge, my entries are based in the world of my novel BLOOD THIEF, but are not canon for it.  Enjoy and please be kind and leave feedback :D

(Updated 8/8/11 - I've posted the remaining virtues today rather than doing them daily this week as I'm not sure if I'll be in everyday or not this week)

The mirror showed a strong jaw with just a trace of beard, dark hair, and hazel eyes that were more green than brown.  He relied on his looks when seeking female prey.  He smiled, sensuous lips parting to reveal straight white teeth and sharp fangs.  Women were a joy to drink, sweeter tasting than their counterparts.  Often they were willing, offering blood and body.  Memories of his long-dead love kept him from accepting the latter.  He would break the skin of their soft supple throats, but his fangs were the only part of him to gain penetration during the feast.

Temperance (self-control)

He was sprawled in my bed, sleeping soundly.  One arm rested above his head, the other dangled over the mattress’s edge.  His pulse visibly throbbed in his bare wrist and I caught myself licking my teeth.  It would be easy to exploit his vulnerable state, easy to drink from that unwittingly proffered arm.  He would wake as I drank, of course, but it would be to the flood of pleasurable sensation only a vampire’s bite can give. I shook my head, I promised I wouldn’t.  Marshalling all my will-power I slipped out of the room, closing the door behind me.

Faint weeping could be heard over the patter of rain.  With the rain cloaking my approach from my prey, I found the sound’s source up under the supports of the bridge crossing Jackson Street.  A woman clutched a sobbing child to her side.  Both were shabbily dressed and shivering. A rattling cough shook the woman’s thin frame.  As I approached, the woman quickly pushed the child behind her. Wordlessly, I reached in my pocket and handed her a couple of hundreds.  Gratitude shone in the woman’s eyes.  I turned and walked away.  I would find sanguine sustenance elsewhere this night.

My shoulder throbbed where it had been ripped open by the revenant’s teeth, but I switched the knife to my left hand and headed further into the caverns.  I needed no torch, my pupils had fully dilated at the first hint of danger, one of the many advantages of being a vampire.  I had sent four of the damned creatures to their second death already, including the one that bit me. I would make certain none remained.  Revenants were an anathema, the result of vampirism gone wrong, failed turnings.  It was my duty to eliminate them.  Every last one.

I wanted him, craved him.  Absolutely nothing was going to keep me from having him.  I wanted to enjoy every inch, every ounce.  His scent, the warmth of him, and the thudding cadence of his heart bid me to come closer, to have just a taste. 

I watched as he kissed her goodnight and as she went in.  He stared after her a bit then stepped blithely down the stairs, unaware of me watching him from the shadows.  I would wait.  The whimsical relationships of youth did not last long among humans.  When this was over, he would be mine.

He placed the envelope on the table as if daring me to look inside.  I didn’t.  I knew what the medical reports held.  I could smell the cancer in him, hear disease in his lungs, see the light fleeing his rheumy eyes.  Vampires have long been called the walking dead, but this elderly man deserved the designation more than I.

“It would be a kindness,” he wheezed.

“A mercy killing?”

He nodded, baring his throat.

Gently holding him, I pressed my fangs through his fragile skin, drinking deeply.  He sighed with pleasure, sagging into my arms and slipping into oblivion.

Flakes of old leather broke away from the cover as my fingertips touched the book.  Gently opening the slim volume, I found the print still legible.  The words it held were my guidance once. I read the prayer aloud, sinking to my knees as I beseeched my creator’s forgiveness for the grievous sins I’d committed.  Granted a measure of immortality, pride was surely the chief sin of the vampire.  The curse of the vampire however is two-fold: out-living those you cherish and the terrible memories one never out-lives. Blood tears coursed down my cheeks as I humbled myself before God.

If you enjoyed this, please visit the other participants in this blog challenge:

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Vanishing Point

Those of you familiar with art will know that a vanishing point is a point in a perspective drawing to which parallel lines not parallel to the image plane appear to converge.  It is often used to represent a road that leads to the horizon and, because of distance, disappears from our view.

Those of you familiar with L.A. Banks' VAMPIRE HUNTRESS novels know the vanishing point which she so wonderfully described . . . a place in time and space that is transcendent. 

Recently you may have heard that Ms. Banks was battling cancer.  Her medical bills skyrocketed and people began pitching in to help out.  She lost that battle this morning.  So with a great deal of sadness, we watch the lovely and talented Leslie Esdaile Banks reach her own vanishing point and leave our collective view, leaving this world for the next. 

There are still bills to be paid though and in tribute to her the Liar's Club of Philadelphia is holding an event to help alleviate the financial burden on Ms. Banks' family.  Go here for more info:​1958

Last, but not least, I found this tidbit on the dedication page of THE FORSAKEN by L.A. Banks: "Through this life, so far, I've found that the greatest battle one faces is the one within, the greatest challenge to one's humanity being the ability to be humane while being flawed and human." Oh how true.

Monday, July 25, 2011

Watch this space!  Coming up on August 7th will be the first of the entries for the #7VIRTUES Blog challenge.  If you'd like to enter the challenge yourself, please visit:

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Seven Deadly Sins Blog Challenge

I signed up for the Seven Deadly Sins blog challenge at Antimony's blog:  The challenge in a nutshell is seven days, seven deadly sins, seven flash fictions of 100 words or less.

Since my week is going to be a little crazy I'm going to go ahead and post my entries here in one big post.  You can read them all now or read them one a day - - up to you ;D

These are inspired by the Blood Thief world, but not from Blood Thief directly. Enjoy!


“I’m going to hell anyway, it would be a favor,” he argued with the vampire as his eyes roamed over her, drinking in her preternatural beauty.

“What have you done to imperil your soul?” she licked her lips.

“What haven’t I done?” he asked, self-loathing in his voice.

“An example,” she demanded, examining her perfectly manicured-nails.

“Lust is one of the 7 deadlies, right?”

“Yes.”  A knowing smile curled her lips, revealing white teeth and wicked fangs.  His heartbeat had already stated his desire, but it was still nice to hear. 

Unrepentant prey marched towards its predator. “I’m already damned.”


It wasn’t fair.  She watched the bitch walk away with what should have been hers.  Nobody should be that damned self-confident, that smug.  Social custom was that a vampire visiting the territory of another should come bearing gifts.  That bitch had the nerve to bring that tantalizing human male with her, offer nothing, and leave with him in tow.   So what if she didn’t know local custom?  It just wasn’t fair.  The male had smelled so good, looked so tasty.  Her teeth positively itched for him now.  She’d have him before they left the island.  He should’ve been hers already.


The weeds in his yard were a foot high.  Dishes were piled up in the kitchen sink.  Judging by the smell his trash should’ve been taken out days ago. He’d already called in sick.  It was sort of true.  He was in bed and sick to his soul. Why?  Why did she have to be a vampire?  She was the most intriguing woman he’d met in years, if ever.  Dammit.  A blasted vampire.   He sunk further down into the pillows.  He didn’t ever want to leave his bed again.  Better to sleep his life away than face what lay ahead.


She rubbed the brass rail with a soft cloth, a smile lingering on her lips.  Glass bottles full of various spirits sat waiting for thirsty customer on the shelves behind her.  The polished wood of the bar reflected the myriad neon signs hung on the walls.  This was all hers.  She wished that her no-good ex would dare to show up here.  Wished he could see how much she didn’t need him.  Wished he’d have a run in with the vampire that had become her benefactor.  She sauntered toward the front, flicking on the open sign and unlocking the door.


He dropped the motionless body, its heart silent, and wiped at his bloodied lips. Normally he drank from two a night at most, never draining them.  Tonight he’d had seven and killed them all.  He wasn’t even bothering to dispose of the bodies. Worthless pieces of trash, that’s what they were. He’d read their minds, seen the disgusting thoughts there.
Thinking about his dead lover, he decided his gut felt nearly as heavy as his heart. He slid into the shadows moving toward his next mapped out target, thoughtfully provided to him by the sex offenders database he’d found online.


His new bloodline was going to be magnificent.  He put the vessel containing countless vampiric essences into the safe with the others he’d accumulated, closed the door and spun the dial.  He had enough now, combined with his rare blood, that the bloodline he’d create would be unparalleled.  He would be a god among vampires.  Legendary.  Unrivaled.  There was only one more vial to steal and he would be ready. Pleasure washed over him at the thought.  The anticipation of drinking the blood of ages made the fine pale hairs on his arms stand as his goosebumps dotted his flesh.


Bloody bastard.  That low-down, conniving, murderous, conceited jackass.  I slid forward a couple of inches on the gritty concrete, groaning at the pain flaring from the gunshot-shattered bone in my hip.  I’d kill him if it was the last thing I did.  The mouth-watering smell of blood pervaded the air, but the aching trumped the hunger and it only served to anger me further.  He’d set this up knowing I’d have to turn on my unconscious human companion in order to gain the strength to free myself before dawn.  He wanted me to sink to his level.  He was twice-dead.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Birthday Blowout First Page Contest with Victoria Marini

Here is my entry for the Birthday Blowout First Page Contest with Victoria Marini.  Happy Birthday, Shelley.  Thank you for giving us all a gift for your birthday :D

Email address:
Follow both blog and on Twitter

Title: Blood Thief
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Word Count: 65K

First page (250 words):
(With re-write)

"It's Celeste, anybody home?" I called out cheerily, but received no answer as I headed to Catherine’s brightly-lit kitchen. I've seen enough death. I should have recognized what I was seeing, but I stood there frozen looking at Catherine. She was sprawled on the floor, her head severed. A dark pool of blood was spreading out beneath her, the red a stark contrast against the cool white tile. I stared a bit before my brain made sense of what I was viewing.

Sinking to my knees, I sobbed. Losing those you love is part of being a vampire, but it always hurts. Wiping red tears, I got to my feet. My friend was gone.  She’d given all to protect the reliquary vital to my bloodline.  I would see it safe. I sped silently through her darkened living room, fearing the worst. Holding my breath, I ripped open the bottom panel of the Grandfather clock. A relieved exhalation escaped me as my hand found the heart-shaped enameled glass vessel that held the comingled essences of my bloodline. This was the safety and source of our vampiric abilities.

Stepping outside into the dark pre-dawn hours, I opened my phone to check the time, squinting at the bright screen. Snapping it shut, I realized my mistake as faint footsteps followed me. I'd taken the reliquary from its hiding place and whoever had killed Catherine was now somewhere behind me, waiting on the chance to take it. I had played right into their hands.

(Before re-write)
"It's Celeste, anybody home?" I called out, but received no answer as I headed to Catherine’s brightly-lit kitchen. I've seen enough death that I should have recognized what I was seeing, but I stood there frozen as I looked at Catherine. She was sprawled on the floor, her head severed. A dark pool of blood was spreading out beneath her, the red a stark contrast against the cool white tile. I stared for a bit before my brain registered what I was viewing. When it did, I knew what I must do.

Catherine was the Keeper. She guarded the reliquary vital to our bloodline. Now, temporarily, that task would fall to me as few members knew where it was secreted away. I moved silently through her darkened living room. Barely daring to breathe, I opened the panel at the bottom of the Grandfather clock. A relieved exhalation escaped me as I lifted the reliquary from its hiding spot. My fingers caressed the heart-shaped enameled glass vessel that held the comingled essences of my bloodline. This was the safety and source of our vampiric abilities.

Stepping outside into the dark pre-dawn hours, I opened my phone to check the time, squinting at the bright screen. Snapping my phone shut, I realized my mistake as faint footsteps followed me. I'd taken the reliquary from its hiding place and whoever had killed the Keeper was now somewhere behind me, waiting on the chance to take it. I had played right into their hands.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

What makes a vampire?

A pair of fangs does not a vampire make.  Neither does pale skin or an aversion to garlic or any other myriad physical traits that vampires have been ascribed with over the years.  I’ve read far too many vampire tales where the bloodsucker in question relied on the physical to convey “otherness.”  I mean really, how much are you going to stand out if you flipping sparkle in daylight or burst into flame at the touch of the sun’s rays?  While having distinguishing physical characteristics that make your vampires different from their human counterparts is all well and good, there has to be more.

Do my vampires have fangs?  You bet.  And they’re self-conscious about them around humans.  Do they have pale skin.  Yep.  They’re creatures of the night.  Is that what makes them vampires?  Not a chance.  It is their life experience and their actions that define them.  Otherwise they are no different from the humans that visit nightclubs decked out in dental-grade fangs and bad hair dye jobs.

Imagine what it would be like to live 300+ years.  Think of the history you’d have to have seen in that time, the people you would have known, loved and lost.  That sense of timelessness makes a vampire.  Having to live with humans as your source of sustenance, preying on someone that is what you once were, that makes a vampire.  Dealing with the secrets, guilt (or lack thereof) and, yes, hunger are what make vampires  interesting, appealing and even terrifying.  Not the fangs - though they do make for a wicked smile.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

The Irresistibly Sweet Blog Award

Reggie Ridgway nominated me for Irresistibly Sweet Blog Award

Thanks, Reggie!

The rules are simple:
1) Thank and link to the person that nominated you.
2) Share 7 random facts about yourself.
3) Pass the award to 3 of your blogging buddies.
4) Notify the recipients

Here are my 7 random facts:

1. I am a writer, but also a mom, a runner and a pretty decent cook.
2. I love to fish.
3. I am married.
4. I adore sushi, coffee and Pernod (just not all together!)
5. I am an amateur nail artist.
6. I have a large collection of high heels.
7. I like shiny things.

I am nominating the following three blogs for the award.