50K Death Race Has Come to an End


Wow! I crawled to the finish line again. On the very last day, I had a whopping 6k to pound out to earn that banner above. With family functions, Thanksgiving, and the 9 to 5 gig I struggled to find the time. The funny thing was that I always take off a whole week for NaNo. However, discipline to sit and write without distraction just isn’t my style.

Every year when that free week comes by, I have the mindset that I’ve gone to a writer’s retreat before and cranked out 10k in one day. So, I should be well ahead of the game.


My projects this year were the next two in my Beowulf Hollow series for the Naughty Fairy Tale line Evernight Publishing has. I finished the rough draft on one but the other? On that fateful day of 6k, I had come to a point in the second–but really the third–in the series where the clash of good versus bad character was coming to a head. At this junction of any novel I write, I have to think it out in my head. It’s a very slow process. I didn’t have time on the last day to draw the whole scene out.

Yeah, I know. NaNo is about words. However, what I’ve learned over the years is that it’s better for me to have more of a skeletal work at the end than one filled with purple prose or tons of needless words for words sake. So setting a goal to blow my word count out of the water is out of the question. Honestly, I have too many unfinished projects where I didn’t follow this rule and just looking at them gives me a huge headache.

So, instead of finishing that one I started another project that had been dancing in my head for quite some time. The words flowed so easy and the story is still begging for me to go on but I promised I wouldn’t write on December 1st. Though, I kind of broke that preparing this post but if blog posts don’t count for NaNo, I’m not counting this indiscretion.

December will be filled with family and massive baking sessions. Dispersed within that, I will finish my three projects for submission. Thank you for all your support over the years. :)

In the Buff: Tangled in Time, NaNo 2014 Part 2

This year I’m doing two novellas for NaNo instead of one full length novels. Both are part of my Beowulf Hollow Series. So, again, I present to you the first 1667 words or so of the rough draft of Tangled in Time.

Carnival Legend Cruise 673Spring 1607

Aiyanna sat in front of her mother Yepa. For as long as she could remember, the ritual of braiding her long blonde locks began anew every seven days. Not in her many years upon the earth has her mother taken a knife to shorten hair. Intricate braids aided in the distribution of the weighty mass of curls.

“Awwa. Can we not cut some of my hair? It would make a fine rope.”

“My child, your hair shines like the sun. I fear cutting it shall make the heavens fall and the skies weep for days.”

Aiyanna watched the embers from the fire glow. A few spiraled, dancing before her eyes among the smoke. The paintings on the wall had been her creation with the guidance of her mother chronicling their journey from the south to their place in the mountains. Their travels had been hard and fierce warriors along the way nearly ended her life. Had it not been for Yepa, she would have perished but that did not come without sacrifice. Her mother had been cast out by her people for protecting a fair skinned, fair haired offspring of the invaders from across the sea.

Who those people were to Aiyanna was but a distant memory. Sometimes the nightmares would take her but Yepa would guide her out of the darkness each night.

“Tell me where I come from.”

“Life is not about looking behind us but seeing the journey ahead, Aiyanna.” Yepa let the last braid fall across Aiyanna’s shoulders. “Your destiny lies on a different path.”

“You have lost so much because of me. Why?”

“It was not your time. Enough talk. We must harvest from the forest. Make sure you gather some Hen of the Woods.”

Aiyanna spun around, a smile on her face. “Knoton will be visiting?”

Yepa laughed as she grabbed her walking stick. “Get to your task and you will see.”

Basket in hand, Aiyanna wandered out of the cave. A few deer grazed, nibbling the tender bits of a bush. Their ears twitched but they didn’t bolt from her presence. Oak trees were plenty around the cave but she ventured further out. The weather was warming and she wanted to enjoy the day. Too many months in hidden away had made her edgy. Isolation away from the others who lived in the area dampened her spirits.

Recently the tribe who lived on the other side of the valley had made contact with Yepa. Her mother had ordered her to stay out of sight but Knoton had found her. He marveled at her light skin compared to his darker tones. She implored him to not tell the others of her existence. A week later, he had returned on his own with dried deer meat. She’d been head over heels for him ever since.

She took out her knife as she came to the first clump of Hen in the Woods. A twig snapped and she froze. Crawling under a yew, she flattened herself to the ground. She pulled up the doeskin hood on her dress to hide her hair.

“Does my golden bird fly away?”

Her heart fluttered. Knoton. She shimmied from underneath the bush. Dressed for the cool temperatures, he strode toward her.

“I heard you.” She smiled.

“I did not want to alarm you.”

She sliced the Hen in the Woods off the trunk of the oak. “Awwa told me you were coming.” She placed the mushroom in her basket.

“And you prepare a feast for me?”


“I have brought my share.” He patted the rabbits hanging from his hip. She dropped her basket, unable to contain her delight at seeing him. Her arms wrapped around his neck. He kissed her, tentatively.

“It is cold, Golden Hair.” He tasted her lips again.

“I am warm in your arms.” She tangled her fingers in the strings holding his deerskins around his waist. One tug and she had access.

“Golden Hair, Yepa will see.” He made no move to stop her.

“We are far from the cave and she is preparing while I gather.” Her hand burrowed into the opening she created. His thick shaft rested easily in her palm. Never had she been so bold. One stroke and he stiffened.

Their lips met again, tongues intertwining. She stroked his cock and his hand massaged her breast through her doeskin. Last fall, he had taken her maidenhead among the leaves near the top of the mountain. The thin air had heightened the experience for her. His tenderness in guiding her through her first time had her want him even more. She wanted him to enter her again, the winter far too long of a wait to join with him again.

“Take me, Knoton.” She jerked his length, his hips moving in rhythm.

“Yepa would cast me away if I fill you with child before seeking council.” His warning had no merit as his hands yanked her dress up to her waist. Cold air hit her exposed buttocks, her leggings open.

“Spill your seed to the winds as before.” She stopped her stroking and lowered herself to the ground. Knoton settled between her legs. His fat head eased into her wet opening. Each thrust was met by her hips. She gazed up at her warrior, the man she wanted to be with until the ends of the earth. His love for her sparkled in his eyes with each deep plunge into her sex. She wanted his seed to spill in her, to fill her belly with their first child but their union had to be blessed.

They would never allow her to be with him. She matched his rhythm, quickening his movements. She stroked his chin and he kissed her, deeply madly. Her legs trembled as he increased his pace. His rough mouth against hers spoke of the same desperate ache. She prayed he would forget but as his moans grew, he pulled away from her. He bent, jerking his cock as his seed splattered to the ground.

“I am sorry, Golden Hair.” He gasped. “I almost did not.” His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath.

“Would that have been so bad?” She covered her bare skin.

“I want to be with you. To see your belly swell with strong sons and daughters but my father will not allow us to be together.” He helped her off the ground. “He doesn’t know I travel to this side of the mountain. Every day he tells me I must choose a wife. Every day I tell him I am not ready. Soon he will choose for me.”

“I would run to the ends of the earth to be with you, Knoton. Say it and I will run with you.”

He cupped her chin. “We will wait until the weather is more fitting and travel south away from this.”

She hugged him. “I will bear you many sons.” Breaking from the embrace, she picked up her basket. “I must get my bounty.”

“I must circle around so that Yepa does not suspect.” He stole one last kiss before running away.

Her blade sliced through the clumps of mushrooms. Her basket filled quickly. On her way back to the cave, she stooped to dig out red clover. She could almost taste the rabbit Knoton had caught. The sun played through the trees as she weaved her way down the trail. Another tuft of red clover grew by a fallen log and she knelt to retrieve it. Voices echoes to her left. Pushing her basket under the log, she followed.

Two pairs of moccasins stopped inches from her hiding spot.

“Knoton came this way.” One of the men shuffled forward a hair. His spear tapped the ground.

The other snorted. “He comes to seek wisdom with the witch.”

“He comes to wet his cock with no fear of swelling her belly.” The man laughed.

“His father will not be pleased.”

“His father need not know.” They turned back the way they had come. “The witch will give him experience to please his wife.”

Aiyanna stayed under the log, afraid to move. If they had found Knoton and her copulating … She had to get back to the cave. Crawling out, she dragged her basket out. At a fast pace, she wove her way back home. At the entrance of the cave, her lover waited for her.

“Two of your tribe were in the forest.” She rushed past him. “They didn’t see me but they were looking for Knoton.” She kept her back to Yepa. One by one, she prepared the mushrooms and stuck them in the boiling pot. Her hood covered her eyes.

“Aiyanna. What did they say?” Yepa asked.

“They…” Heat blossomed in her cheeks. “I cannot say.”

“Hmmm.” Yepa placed the rabbit pelts near her basket. “For you to repair your winter boots.”

“Thank you.”

Yepa touched her hand. “You tremble. What is wrong, my child?”

“I fear that they will see me and will not welcome my presence.” She glanced at Knoton briefly. If his tribe saw her hair, Yepa would be driven from the mountain or worse yet, killed.

“Drive these dark thoughts from your head.”

She nodded but fear still possessed her soul. She wanted to run with the deer and rabbit, the fox and wolf, all at Knoton’s side.

Sneak Peek: Rumpled Between the Sheets

I’m roaring on NaNo. My progress is to the right in the side bar. My project this year is the next two in my Beowulf Hollow series for Evernight’s Naughty Fairytales line. So, I give to you the ugly rawness that is NaNo writing. Here’s the first 1667 words or so of my rough draft. And boy to do I mean rough!

I made this mock cover for the fun of it.

I made this mock cover for the fun of it.

Fall 1976

Mary flipped the page of the script in her hands. “I’m not going to do that.” She jammed her finger in the middle of the page.

“Come on, baby. You do it with me all the time.” Paul nuzzled the back her neck, his arms worming their way around her waist.

“You’re my boyfriend, Paul. I’m not going to pretend fuck someone on stage.” She tossed the script down. “I thought you said this connection had some small parts on Broadway, not this back alley bullshit.”

“Yeah, well, you’d get paid more to do this. All those vets coming home from Vietnam are shelling out some calms to see this.” His hands invaded the bottom of her sweater.

“Why don’t I just go to one of those sleazy strip joints if that’s all you want to see out of me.” She wrenched out of his grasp. “I got to get ready for work.” She snatched up her apron and put it on. If she wanted to dress like this for the rest of her life, she could have stayed in Beowulf Hollow. If Broadway wanted to base a play on the glamorous lifestyle of a downtown waitress from a small Pennsylvania town, she’d corner the market.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He picked up the script and set it on the small kitchen table. “Just look at it later. If it’s not your style, cool. I’ll see if Gretchen wants it.”

Mary whipped around. “Gretchen? Really?” She furiously tied the apron strings together.

“Oh no. I didn’t mean it like that.” Paul held his hands up in surrender. “All I’m saying is you need to relax. There’s nudity on Broadway too.”

“Yeah, back stage when you’re getting dressed. I got to go.”

Paul caught her as she tried to pass. “Don’t go away all mad, baby.” His breath tickled her ear.

She couldn’t pull free of his grasp. She didn’t want to. “We’re barely making it here. I need something big.”

“You’ll get it but you need your street cred, baby. Relax. Don’t leave yet.” Again his lips caressed her neck. “I fucking love you in this outfit.”

She craned her neck to allow him better access. He suckled, the joyful pain of him leaving his mark exciting her. The scarf she wore would hide it all. His fingers inched up the knee-length skirt, pulling the fabric to her hips.

“Oh baby, no panties again. Fuck.” His digits danced at her apex and slowly she spread her legs. Paul took her invitation and rubbed her clit before sliding a finger along her slit. “I love your sweet little pussy.”

Her hands pressed on the counter. A moan hissed through her clenched teeth. His hands were magic, sparking her desire. Two fingers pressed against her opening before plunging in. The wetness grew with each stroke and he pulled out.

“Taste the sweetness, baby.” He offered the plundering fingers for her and Mary took them in her mouth. Each smack off her lips caused Paul to grind against her ass. “Oh fuck yeah.” He grabbed her by the hips and spun her around. His lips covered hers feverishly, his tongue parting the way. Breaking away, he lifted her on the counter and shoved her to her back. Her head hung off the side and she held on for dear life as he spread her legs wide. His tongue lavished her clit and he shoved three fingers into her, the fourth one teasing her back entrance. Her gasps came in short huffs. She’d never let him fuck her in the ass, though his want had been apparent every time they messed around. His hand moved with speed and she cried out as she came. His heat faded away and she heard the sound of his zipper undoing.

Sliding off the counter, she sank to her knees. She knew what Paul liked as much as he did her. His lucid eyes matched his grin. She licked the mushroom head of his fat cock before taking the shaft in her mouth. Her first love and first lover, Paul had opened her up to sexual encounters. Barring anal, she’d do anything if he asked. Sucking his cock was a joy she’d never thought she’d be into but the sticky sweetness had almost become an addiction. Lusting for a taste, she worked the bottom of his shaft with fervor.

“Oh no, baby, I’m going to fuck you.” He dragged her up and pressed her belly to the kitchen table. “Bad girl.” He smacked her bottom before rubbing the spot. One more smack and he drove his dick in. With his hands on her shoulders, he fucked her hard and fast. Again she cried out, imploring him to go faster. His grunts joined her.

He pulled out with a groan. “Suck my dick, baby.”

She scrambled to the floor, eager. The smell of his musk coupled with the taste of her juices spurred her to engulf his whole length. In that one moment, he unleashed his cum. She swallowed as he stroked her hair.

“Fuck, baby. You can do whatever you want.” He helped her up, fixing her skirt. “See?”

She slapped his cheek affectionately. “I only do that for you.”

“You’re too good for me.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll give the script back. No Gretchen. Okay?”

She headed for the bathroom. “Do what you want, Paul. If it’s a good fit for her.” She couldn’t go to work smelling like a porn shop back room.

“Are you sure?” He called out.

“Yep.” She gargled with mouthwash and spit. After a good wash of her private parts, she slipped on a pair of panties. Paul enjoyed a good fuck before she headed to work so she tempted him by forgetting her underwear. Not that it took much to entice him to the bed … or counter … or table. Or just about any place in their small apartment.

When she returned to the living room, Paul still had his pants around his ankles. His cock wavered between half-mast and full erection. “I really don’t have time for another round, Paul.” She hopped over and pinched his cheek, giving his cock a tug. “You’re on your own.”

“No problem.” He grinned. I got the latest issue of Playboy to get all sticky.”

Pam Rawlings graced the cover of the November 1972 cover. Paul’s first purchase when he turned eighteen. Before they became lovers, she caught him whacking off with his cock in one hand and the centerfold in the other. She’d met him during a small time production in a smaller theatre in the Bronx. When the show closed down, he helped her get a job at a local diner. He worked in the back. Three months later, they got a small apartment together and he lost his job soon after. With one last kiss, she headed out the door.

Life hadn’t turned out like she expected. While Paul managed to get money to pay his half of the bills, neither of them were getting ahead. The diner, while a good revenue generator, brought in all kinds of low lives. Busty, she started wearing sweaters to hide her cleavage. The work uniform was cut too low and while tips poured in, drunks deciding she was a few melons on a fruit cart made work almost unbearable. Her boss did nothing when she complained, citing she shouldn’t ‘flaunt her tits’ if she didn’t want them to be appreciated. In that vein, she chose the sweater and he never said a word about her covering the uniform.

She crossed the street only to slow when she noticed the lights weren’t on in the diner. Several of her coworkers lingered outside, huddled by the entrance.

“What’s going on?” She stood on her tiptoes to peer at what they were looking at.

“We’ve been closed down.” Heather, another waitress, pointed to the sign. Her bubble gum made a loud snap. “The health department.”

Mary shoved her way through, her heart tightening in her chest. She needed this job. She had nothing else beyond a script for a sex show disguised as a legitimate play. In black and white, she read the long list of violations Heather jabbed a finger at. Nerves rattled, she rushed away from the diner. Breath wouldn’t come to her lungs. If it wasn’t for Paul, she wouldn’t have gotten that job in the first place. She didn’t want to start over or go home to Beowulf Hollow a failure.

Years bled from her eyes and she wiped them away. How would she explain to Paul that she might not be able to pay her part in the bills. Up the two flights of steps she paused at the door to her apartment. She had to pull it together before walking in. Laughter leached out of the big gap under the story. The key shook in her hand, poised near the lock. Giggling turned in heated moans.

“I love your sweet little pussy.”

She couldn’t mistake Paul’s voice and the same words he murmured to her earlier. She shoved the key in and shouldered the door open. Across the room, bent over the kitchen table, was Gretchen. Paul was balls deep, their flesh smacking hard together.

Mary dropped the keys, gasping.

Paul jerked his head around, never slowing his thrusts on Gretchen. “Oh, shit.” He slapped his current fuck toy as he withdrew. She eagerly dropped to the floor, pausing when she saw Mary.

“Oh hey, girlfriend!” She smiled before sucking the offered cock before her.

“Man.” He pumped his cock. “I’m helping her with an audition. Honest.”

Mary laughed to keep from crying. Gretchen would be stupid enough to fall for that line. The casual way Paul continued to fornicate right in front of her angered her. Shame for not seeing what kind of man he was heated her cheeks. All the scripts scattered around the house. All the girls he brought over to read with her who couldn’t string two sentences together. Nothing more than private auditions for his poontang express.