Doing a little throwback for the listening selection for today. There are some GREAT tunes that came out of the 80s. The Scorpions had one of those songs. Alright, they had lots of those songs. But heavy metal bands doing ballads is one of the things I really miss about the 80s. So, in part for nostalgia and in part just because this song kicks ass… Still Loving You.
I usually reserve Sundays for book reviews. I don’t know why. I just do it. But today is Mother’s Day. And my Mother passed away 3 years ago on April 7, 2011. So today, instead of doing a post about a book, this post is a tribute to my mother. It won’t be nearly long enough. I won’t get out everything I want to say. But still, here it is.
My first memory is of my mother. I woke up- I must have been about 2 years old- hungry and went in search of the person who fed me. My mom. To say I love her wouldn’t cover the myriad of emotions I feel toward the one woman who not only shaped me, but shaped and informed the world around me. She was everything in my world.
My mom’s courageousness never hit me until I was an adult and realized how HARD the things she did were. Like coming to a new country, learning a new language, and permanently changing her citizenship to a country she hadn’t been born in. And she did all those things for me. Of course, my father factored heavily into these things as well. But knowing my moms, I know a huge part of WHY she did some of those things were because of me. That’s just who she was. She loved me as well.
The day she went to that Federal Courthouse to take her oath and pledge her loyalty to America was a pivotal moment for me. Although, I wouldn’t realize that until much later as well. The joy I experienced in that courtroom never left me. Never. It dictated what I would study in school and which career path I would take.
I was not a good daughter. At times, I was downright shitty. Some of the things I said to my mom HAUNT me. And I know that I’m not alone. Teenagers across the world have said things that were meant to devastate just like I did. But that doesn’t matter to me. Because I said them to a woman who deserved praise and not ridicule. Not the scorn I heaped upon her.
I was lucky to have the mom I had. I learned to be a good mom in return. I learned to be most of what I am today because of her. She should have been given a better daughter. I wish she had. Then she might have had more than I gave her. Not that I couldn’t. I just chose not to. In my arrogance.
My mom passed away three years ago and I regret the time we lost to my own selfishness. She was a superb human being. She pissed people off because she was blunt and direct when maybe sometimes she didn’t need to be. Judgmental at times. I know her flaws as well. Still, in the balance, my scale of goodness from her tips way to my side when balanced against her scale of goodness.
My mom knew sacrifice. She went hungry many times as a child so her younger brother and sisters could eat. It was post war and Korea was decimated. She gave up so much always for those around her who she loved. She used to come over and cook and clean for me when my kids were little so I could rest. How do you even begin to repay, honor or in any other way give back what she gave? I don’t know. I just sit here in awe of my mom.
My mom passed away 4 months after I moved from close to her to far away. I miss her every single day. Every single day. I have a box with her jacket in it. I know it still smells like her. I haven’t opened the box because I don’t want that smell to go away. I want that smell with me at my time. To be wrapped up in her and have her be the last memory I have just like I had the first.
Yummalicious. Another Monday. Another hot man pic. What more could anyone ask for?!?!
There is just so much to like about this picture. So. Much.
We have a winner, boys and girls!
BookLady is the winner of my portion of the blog hop and is getting an ebook copy of FARSEEN. Keep checking back to see who wins the big rafflecopter prizes. Woohoo for her! 🙂
Thank you to everyone who participated and made the blog hop a fabulous success! I had a really good time and I hope all of you did as well.
***
And the goodness doesn’t just stop there. 😉 Today is the day that NIGHT BLIND is on general release from Totally Bound. They are a fabulous group of people and my book can’t help but to have some of that fabulousness rub off on it.
Night Blind is Part 2 of the OtherKind Prequel. FarSeen is Part 1. They are both standalone novellas in their own right. However, they are best read together.
Warning… maybe: One shifter new to manlove, one witch new to threesomes, and one vampire who’s been there and done that… a thousand times. At least. They’re all new to each other. Add in crazed bad guys unleashing diseases of mass destruction, and well… what happens in Dallas, it’s not gonna stay in Dallas. Light m/m action, some anal and LOTS of hot menage.
EXCERPT:
He walked toward her. Stalked would be a more apt description.
“Are you hungry, little witch?” he purred.
“No.”
“Good.”
He took her face into his hands. Slowly, so she had time to protest, he brought his mouth closer to hers. Um, yeah, she was so not going to protest. Her magic flung itself out and wrapped around Lucien, rubbing up against his power. She didn’t need to see to know what it was doing. The rubbing was shooting sparks all over her body.
He brought his hand to the underside of her hair at the nape of her neck. He twined his fingers into her curls and gripped. Not hard but very firm. Using his leverage, he kept her head completely still.
He covered her mouth with his, almost touching. She could feel his breath on her lips, warm and humid. She couldn’t move her head, not one millimeter, his hold on her was that firm. All she could do was wait, wait for him to make the next move.
She knew vampires were notoriously controlling. She hadn’t thought about what that meant in the bedroom. Lucien was the Lord of the East. How much more controlling would he be compared to others of his kind? She had a feeling she was about to find out.
He bit down on her bottom lip. Then he licked the bite as if to soothe it. It did the opposite and shot her arousal into the stratosphere. She’d always liked a bit of pain with her pleasure. She had a feeling, though, her boundaries in that regard were going to be tested.
BUY LINKS:
Amazon
AllRomance
Barnes and Noble
Welcome to the Spring Fling Blog Hop! Over fifty authors and bloggers have joined together to bring you some amazing posts, great giveaways and lots of fun! Don’t forget to enter the rafflecopter to win a Kindle tablet, gift cards, paperbacks and swag and be sure to check out the other blogs taking part.
This is my second Spring Fling. I knew it was going to happen that way when I signed up for the blog hops. What I didn’t know was just how crappy the weather sitch was going to be and just how much we’d need some more Spring. Maybe even a double dose of it. And if we can’t get it in the form of Mother Nature, then I’m betting that getting it in the form of blog hops with giveaways that include reading material to help while away the time on cold not-so-Spring-like days is the next best alternative. Gotta love that.
Having NIGHT BLIND available for general release on April 25, the day after the hop ends and when I announce my winner, well… that’s just more awesome, no? I put my warning blurb for NIGHT BLIND below so you know what you’re in for when you buy the book. Don’t forget to take a peek at the OtherKind page in Titles. 😉 In honor of this second Spring Fling and the release of NIGHT BLIND (an Other Kind Prequel Part 2), I’m giving away FARSEEN (an Other Kind Prequel Part 1) in ebook format. So leave me a comment as your entry to win FARSEEN. And don’t forget to enter the rafflecopter belew and visit other author’s sites to win more goodies.
One shifter new to manlove, one witch new to threesomes, and one vampire who’s been there and done that… a thousand times. At least. They’re all new to each other. Add in crazed bad guys unleashing diseases of mass destruction, and well… what happens in Dallas, it’s not gonna stay in Dallas. Light m/m action, some anal and LOTS of hot menage.
**Publisher’s Note: This book is best read after FarSeen.
Snippet:
That the Council members had been waiting on her was obvious. They were milling around chatting instead of engaging in Council business. When they saw her, they all began to move toward their seats.
Shit, what they wanted to discuss with her must be important. This did not bode well.
Sara walked up to her, turning her head this way and that. “You look tired, Enforcer.” Then she dropped her voice. “You need to get laid, child. Sex magic will verve you right up.”
Oh, my God. Sara did not just say that to her. She was so old that most made allowances for her crazy utterances. Still, the head of the Council did not just tell her to get her groove on so she could get back some of her mojo. Good Christ. Talk about totally inappropriate.
“Enforcer, please be seated at the table,” Sara, crazy old bat that she was, ordered.
Cause you’re gonna have to try a little harder to make that shit work for you. I’m not ashamed. Not at all. Not one iota. I write romances. I read romances. And I LIKE that I do.
By: Thomas Hawk
Wanna look down your nose at me? Fuck you.
Give me a minute, bet I can find something out about you that I can make into a shame sequence. Seriously? After all the shit that women get, now we’re getting shit because of the material we read? Bitch, please. Be happy that WE ARE READING AT ALL.
Wanna call me names? Fuck you… AGAIN.
I get the disparaging remarks about “mommy porn” as you laugh uncomfortably and look away. I get the light scoff/snort as you discuss the merits of romances being written at all, much less read–gasp–by a large percentage of the populace. I get the looks of derision and scorn when certain titles are mentioned and the genres they represent. I get it. I don’t understand it. But I get that some people feel that way.
All this was precipitated because of a blog post, Dear Columists, romance fiction is not your bitch, by Kat Mayo in the Drum. In that article, Kat defends the romance genre, romance writers and romance readers. And she does so brilliantly.
But you know what pisses me off? Feminists–who, by the way, are by and large WOMEN–are trying to shame other WOMEN for reading and writing in a genre that showcases WOMEN. And then the argument devolves into people pointing out that women are other women’s biggest adversary in today’s world. Wake the fuck up.
Wanna know the biggest adversaries to women in today’s world? Lack of education. Shitty health care. Disparate treatment in the workforce. And the list goes on because the list is fucking LONG, yo.
What ISN’T the biggest stumbling block for other women is WOMEN. Yes, there are times that women will argue. So what? I argue with dudes too when they’re fucking WRONG. My arguing with a women doesn’t automatically mean I’m being catty cause I have a vagina as well. It just means I don’t give a shit what gender you are when I point out that I think YOU ARE WRONG.
Talk about circling back. Dude, seriously. What is WRONG is dismissing the romance genre in its entirety because there happen to be one or ten shitty romance writers. Here, let me lay out my thesis in clear bold language. THE ROMANCE GENRE IS THE ONLY GENRE THAT MAKES WOMEN THE FOREFRONT AND CENTER OF THE STORY.
Let me say that again. Because it’s important. Really fucking important. The Romance genre is the only genre that makes women the forefront and center of the story.
No other genre does that. Not sci-fi. Not westerns. Not literary fiction. Not middle grade fiction. Not thrillers. Not horrors. Not picture books. Not cookbooks. Not devotionals. Not fantasy. Not histories. Not poetry. Not one other genre makes women the centerpiece of the story.
And that boys and girls never happens in real life. Not really. Women are secondary characters in real life. Every once in a while, we’ll have the token women break through and get her own story, but that happens so rarely as to be statistically irrelevant. And when it does, the larger story hers is contained within is usually the man’s story. Don’t believe me? Crack open any history book. Ever. Shit, crack open a historical fiction book and although the story might seem like it’s about the girl, it’s about the dudes in the book. Really. You just get the reaction perspective from the women’s point of view in regards to what the dudes are doing. So being told in the feminine perspective doesn’t mean the story places the woman at the forefront, at the center, as the CRUX of the story.
The romance genre has been doing that since the genre developed. Women, and some men, reading about women navigating their shitty societies and societal restrictions, figuring shit out, being the REASON for the story. And yes, real women know there aren’t that many happy endings. Shit. WE KNOW. We know there are things in the books that aren’t realistic. Dude. WE KNOW. But there is a measure of empowerment and satisfaction from immersing oneself into a world where a women’s story as she navigates her life and relationships isn’t secondary, or an afterthought, or an addendum.
And really, isn’t it easy to bash the romance genre because it involves women? Doesn’t it seem that we’re all a little quicker to bash the things women like, read, or want? I don’t need to be shamed because someone else thinks my reading and writing material isn’t up to intellectual snuff. I don’t need someone denigrating me because of my choice in genre. Didn’t we already go through this in the science fiction genre and the horror genre. All this name-calling because someone else’s opinion renders an ENTIRE class of writing dismissed.
Part of being a free women today means I get to read what the fuck I want. AND I feel no shame. It also means that I get to write the fuck I want. And again, I FEEL NO SHAME. Shame has no place in literary discourse of any kind. Discuss the merits of the work, or body of works, and have rational discussions about this. Even if we agree to disagree. I don’t NEED to argue someone to my point of view. I could really give a shit less what you think, or what you read, or whatever. And even if I thought it was shit, I wouldn’t disparage the entire genre or you as a person for reading that shit. You’d probably never know. Because reading material is individual and what we get out of a reading is also individual. So one book for me might be shit and it might have been the greatest book you’ve ever read. That’s cool.
But don’t tell me I’m perpetuating the stereotypes of a type of women that you might find distasteful. In doing that, you are doing nothing more than what the patriarchal system has been telling women all along. You shouldn’t do this because it isn’t feminine has now become you shouldn’t do this because it’s TOO feminine. Fuck you. Determine your level of femininity or lack thereof and then do that. Don’t look around and tell other people to do that too, and if they don’t do what you tell them then say they suck because that just makes YOU SUCK.
My reading and writing material doesn’t make me more or less feminine. Neither does it determine my commitment level to feminism. All it says is that I want to read a story where the central figure and the story is about a women living her life. That is all.
So if you’ve got shit to say to me about my reading and/or my writing material and its start out with the romance genre sucks… just shut the fuck up. There’s only one place the shame in the situation should be sitting. And it’s not on my shoulders. And I won’t thank you for trying to lay that shit at my feet. Keep it. I’ve got enough shit to deal with. I so don’t need yours.
We have a winner, boys and girls. WOOHOO. I’m pleased to announce that parisfan was picked using the randomizer at random.org.
click the pic to go to the main hop page
Let me know if you want HAT TRICK or FARSEEN and the preferred format.
Congratulations for on the win, parisfan! And thank you to everyone else who helped make this blog hop a huge success.
I should’ve chosen the Fray’s Love Don’t Die as a pick in February. I didn’t. Whatevs. String me up by my toenails. Or something equally gruesome and horrific. Or not. Or maybe, just listen to the song ’cause love isn’t confined just to February or Valentine’s Day or some other artificially made up calendar event. Plus, it’s just a cool ass song.
Enjoy!
Peas and Rice. Simple. Perfect. I learned about this dish when I went to Venice one summer. It was the summer that I got a wild hair up my ass and decided to leave everything behind for a month and kick around Europe. Granted, I should’ve done this as a young woman and not the… ahem… older woman I was when I went. I had a blast anyway.
It was the first vacation I’d ever taken alone. It was also the longest vacation I’d ever taken. And I included a 9 day hut-to-hut hiking trip through the Swiss Alps. I spent the next twenty days tooling around the Italian countryside by train. I got comfortable in my own skin on that trip. Alone. By myself in a foreign country or two. I met up with some girlfriends in Rome, but other than that… it was all me all the time.
I scheduled a couple of things before I left on my trip. One of those was a cooking class in Venice. And in that cooking class, I learned to make risi e bisi old school from a gracious native hostess. I’ve never forgotten her or the dish.
The recipe uses a combination of broth and wine. Many use just broth. The ones who view risi e bisi as the food to prepare as a herald of spring will find fresh peas and use the water from the cooking peas as the broth to make risi e bisi. I am not so exuberant in my greeting of Spring. 😉
By: Rooey202
14-ounce bag frozen peas (a full pound is fine, too)
4 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons onion, chopped
4 cups chicken stock, or 2 cups stock/2 cups white wine, or 4 cups pea broth
1 cup Arborio rice
1/2 cup Parmesan, freshly grated
In a soup pot or dutch oven, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the onion and sauté until it becomes lightly golden. In a separate pot, heat the stock until it reaches a simmer.
Easy Method:
Once the onion is ready, add 3 cups of the simmering stock, the rice, the bag of frozen peas, and a good pinch of salt. Cover the pot and and cook at a low boil for about 20 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the rice is just tender. If the soup is too thick, thin it slightly with the remaining stock; it should be thick but not porridge. When the rice is ready, add the grated Parmesan and taste for salt. Serve.
More Difficult Method:
Once onions are translucent, add rice to pot. Cook for a few minutes until rice starts absorbing the oil. Add in half a cup of liquid and cook while stirring. Cook down until almost all liquid is absorbed, add another half up of liquid. Cook while stirring until most of the liquid has been absorbed. Continue until all liquid has been cooked. In the last half cup of liquid, add peas. Taste and adjust seasoning. Don’t over salt if adding grated Parm as the cheese will add salt naturally.
* you can add diced pancetta or bacon to the pot with the onions to give it a different flavor or you can add crispy bacon bits at the end along with crunchy fried onions as a garnish. But this is a simple dish created to showcase new Spring peas.
Several years back, I was given a book called the Artist’s Way. I was having a mental and emotional crisis in that I was just plain exhausted. Working full time, being a full time mom to two boys, a wife, a daughter, a sister, etc. had taken its toll. And I was spent.
By: Oren Hurvitz
I started working through the workbook, only doing those things I could without adding more stress to my life. And slowly as I took myself out on dates, bought little presents for myself and began to explore creative outlets of which I was so not talented, my mental fatigue began to lift. My life hadn’t changed, but my brain was being recharged anyway. It was an eye-opening experience.
There wasn’t a better way for me to learn the lesson that I MUST take care of myself first BEFORE I can take care of others. Those small little things that I did for myself made me happy and taught me I was just as deserving of my time and attention as everyone else. Take care of yourself first and everything else will follow.
I took myself on lunch dates, movie dates and to museums and art galleries and anywhere that struck my fancy. I bought myself little stickers and colored pencils and postcards. The things I did for myself weren’t expensive. They didn’t
take a lot of time. I didn’t search out exotic and unique stuff. I just picked shit that made me smile. And then I took my happy ass to those places. Sometimes, I’d go with others, but most times I went by myself.
I’m a shitty artist. I drew and colored anyway.
I’m a shitty poet. I wrote the worst poetry EVAR!
I found out I’m pretty shitty at a lot of things. I also found out that I have an assload of fun being shitty at a lot of things.
Today, I decided to teach myself French cooking. I have purchased Julia Child’s 2 volumes cookbook set (yes, that’s how I spent part of my Amazon settlement monies) and I aim to work myself through French technique over the next few months. I might even take a class if I can find one by a classically trained French chef. The chef doesn’t have to be French, just her cuisine. 😉 This is the creative endeavor I’ve chosen for right now. Who knows, I might take up pottery next (and if you have a creative suggestion, please tell!!). Because even though I’m not doing the 9-5 that I was before when I first fell exhausted and spent, writing does take a lot out of you. And to fill the creative well, I stay vigilant to ensure my creative barrel is topped off.
I will probably not pick writing related creative outlets for my self “dates.” It’s one of the reason I choose cooking this time around. Going to concerts and galleries and exposing myself to the creative endeavors of my fellow artists can’t help but spool up ideas in my own mind. Besides without real life experiences, fiction just rings hollow if written by someone who hasn’t experienced some of what the writer is writing about. I think discovering new art fields, finds and niches is a brilliant way to make my mind stay fresh and bright and charged.
I can’t wait to taste all my goody French cuisine. I’m no Iron Chef, but I think I can get damn close.
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