From Break-Up To Make-Up: Another Open Letter To Nathan Fillion

Oh, Nathan, Nathan.

I know you were crushed when we broke up, and believe me, it was as difficult for me as it was for you. While I was disappointed and hurt, I never really was angry. I just thought we needed some time apart to evaluate our relationship and I appreciate you gave me that.

I will admit to a flirtation with Adam, but you and I were on a BREAK. And you know, he’s a great guy but he’s sure no Captain Mal. I as much as admitted this in our last communication. I also have to admit I was a little distracted by the pretty.

Oh, so pretty. Hey, I’m only human.

But pretty is as pretty does. I did pine for you. I watched my DVD of Firefly over and over, wondering where we went wrong, contemplating how something as small as a piece of twine could come between us. And I cried and cried. My life was missing something, something I couldn’t fill with watching “The Voice”. It just wasn’t the same.

I was misled by twine, Nater-Tater. I am not the first woman to be misled by twine, and probably not the last.

But then, something happened. Something wondrous. That something wondrous was the San Diego Comic Con, and there was this:

No, not a full reunion, but pretty damned close. Be still, my heart!

I could tell you were trying to woo me back, especially when you let the restraining order expire. I tried to stay away, but I just couldn’t deny the bond between us any longer, especially after I watched the Firefly panel presentation.

I fell in love all over again.

You invoke the fireworks in my heart, Nathan. Nether regions may also be involved.

See, I’ve never seen Adam getting choked up over the love of his fans. I’m sure he loves his fans, but not like you. The story about how you protected the females of your cast; the obvious respect of your crew; the fact you are aging mighty well and are looking really fine; the fact I can’t stop fantasizing about you in a pretty floral bonnet…

And then, when I thought it couldn’t get any better, it did.

This was when I knew for sure.

I knew immediately this was your way of apologizing for the Twine Incident. Your way of telling me our love is unbreakable, transcending time, space, and cancellation. Your way of expressing how much you want me, NEED me back in your life.

Apology accepted, Nater-tater. Totally and 100% accepted.

TOGETHER FOREVER FOR ALL ETERNITY. Don’t you feel so much better now? I know I do!

Relationships are never easy, Nathan. I think we’ve both learned something from this painful experience, and have come out with a bond stronger than ever. So, I guess we can thank the twine for getting us back on track. Communication is key, and now I understand.

You are a Big Damned Hero. And so, so very pretty. :)

You are, and always will be my one and only captain. Forever.

Sorry, I had to answer the door. Thank you for the restraining order. That was quick. <3 [caption id="attachment_1962" align="aligncenter" width="244"] Oh yeah. Let’s misbehave, baby. *MUAH*[/caption]

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Adventures In The Out

Yeah, I know I said I’d update last week, but something ate my Wednesday and I was all discombobulated after that. Tempus fugit, whatever. Don’t play like you don’t know.

Actually, the only update I have on the car cookies is this meme from the very same husband of my daughter’s BFF. He’s a crazy mo-fo, but I say that with all the love in my heart. Because I love me a crazy mo-fo.

Evidence:

E. Ryan Carr made this. And they call ME the crazy one!

I’m still laughing. Just. So. Hilarious.

And actually, I am seriously contemplating these next:

I really am thinking about it, when I get a hot minute. Heh. See what I did there?

Last week turned out to be an Errand Frenzy, and you all know how much I love going into the Out. Here are some highlights from my Facebook posts:

Getting new shoes for the Bitchmobile. It hurts. Gonna be a long hour and I hate how they try to talk you into extra shit because you have a vagina. I had to show my balls. Now I feel like throwing up. Especially when they tried to tell me the amount due was $100 more than they quoted me yesterday and tried to sell me an additional service I don’t need. Unfortunately for them, this isn’t my first day at the rodeo and therefore, I walked out with what I wanted at the price I wanted and WHAT’S MY NAME? That’s right, bitches.

All righty then. Phase I of errand day is complete and while waiting at the tire place, I actually outlined the Intro Mod of my Secret Project and quite pleased about that. Now to the Ninth Level of Hell, aka “Walmart”. Anything after that is going to be anti-climatic.

So, made it out of Walmart with no casualties, but only because I don’t have a flamethrower. Oh, and elderly lady at the pharmacy counter? The only reason I didn’t take you down is because I’m almost old and will (hopefully) be elderly like you, someday. Otherwise, the fact you not only picked up your ‘scripts but also checked out your full cart of ginger ale, Depends, baked beans, cat litter, and Imodium making me wait in line for twenty fucking minutes would have meant bruises if not downright broken bones. P.S. Cut back on the ginger ale and the baked beans and you won’t need the Depends and Imodium. Just a thought.

Lunch. Then back into the Out for Phase III. This time it will be Goodwill and some doodads. I’m gearing up for Phase IV which will include the Post Office. There’s a possibility someone could die today. I can guarantee it will not be me.

Phase IV of Errand Day has been cancelled due to a borked air conditioner in my car. This is what I get for having bad thoughts about the old lady in Walmart, although the thoughts still stand. A big thank you to Jeremy at PetCo for helping me psychoanalyze Athena and directions on how to woo her. Plus a pheromone collar designed to calm her ass down. Hah. If this is a day off I don’t want another one because I am beat.

And this is why I try to stay away from the Out. Unfortunately, I was unable to finish the mission in one day, which is really what I wanted to do to minimize the Out Experience, which led to this:

Phase IV about to commence. Hopefully not as intense and much shorter then yesterday’s operations because my back is killing me today. Thank you, Grandmother, for the spinal stenosis. It says a lot to say it was the nicest thing she ever did for me, but I ain’t mad. I’ll get it done.

P.S. The drug collar seems to be working for Athena. Praise the Mighty Flying Spaghetti Monster. Unless I come home and find she’s peed on my bed.

I did not know it was possible to sweat from this many crevices. I did not know I HAD these many crevices.

I would have been done by now but I decided to chop off my hair.

Stopped home to rehydrate — two more itty bitty errands and I’m to review a Scoundrel. Excited to pick up my framed poster of the cover of “Rolling Sixes” by Mitch Davis, who surprised me with it. :) I have the BEST clients. For now, I’m going to catch my breath a little and cool off. Jeezum, I should have put a roast in the car today.

Fuck summer. Yeah. I said it.

So, first the poster Mitch Davis sent me of the cover of his soon-to-be-released novel, “Rolling Sixes” (SO. EXCITED!)

Is this not amazeballs or what?

And then the haircut:

My best side.

Hopefully I won’t have to go into the Out for at least a month, but I’m afraid I’ll have to hit it again long before that. My downfall? Cat treats. I’m counting them out very carefully to make them last as long as possible, but without cat treats I’m doomed. Athena will kill me in my sleep or pee on my bed. I’m hard-pressed to tell you which one would be worse.

Bad planning on my part. *sigh*

****

So, that was my week. Coming up I have a lot of editing work, the Secret Project to complete, and maybe meat muffins to bake in my car. YAY!

What’s going on with you?

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Monday Heat Thanks To Eden Baylee

First of all, there will be an update posted tomorrow about the continued Insanity of Car Cookies. Or maybe Wednesday. All I can say is I don’t remember ever laughing so much in my life, which is a good thing because that’s all the exercising I’m getting these days. I bet I could bench press at least two pounds with my Laughing Muscles.

This is what my Laughing Muscles have been doing for the last several days. I’m hoping I look more feminine than this.

But that’s not really why I’m here today.

You may remember Eden Baylee from this interview. You might also recall she was the driving force behind raising money to help out a fellow indie author whose son is fighting a battle with leukemia. This group of indies (of which I was honored to be a part) met and exceeded our goal, due in large part because of Eden’s tireless efforts. She is a Most Impressive woman; intelligent, loving, funny, talented, and one of the most loyal friends anyone could ever have. That’s awesome enough, right?

Look at her. It’s hard to believe that much Awesome can fit into such a tiny body, but it does! And she looks so sweet and innocent, too!

Wrong. This woman is packed with so much Awesome it defies the laws of physics as it applies to stuffing that much awesomeness into one person. Eden is also an outstanding writer of erotica.

For the record, erotica is not normally on my top five list of favorite genres, and that’s because the writing is usually not to my taste. There’s no plot, no story, just Ninety Shades of Turquoise (meaning badly written) or a few hot, sweaty bodies getting it on. I need more from my fiction, erotic or otherwise, and I just never really found it in the erotica genre so I gave up. Until Eden.

I won a copy of her first release, Fall Into Winter and loved it. Here was erotica I could really enjoy. Heart, story, and an overwhelming urge to jump into a snowbank to cool off my nether regions. Total win.

When she asked me to edit her new collection, Spring Into Summer, you can bet I was all over that like a bitch on cookies. And HOLY SHAZAAAM.

See this? Hooo, doggy. You’re going to thank me later. Probably MUCH later, because you’ll be quite busy both during and after you read this.

But here’s the thing: the erotica parts of this book did force me to place ice packs on my lady bits. Several ice packs, in fact. Scorching. However, this collection of novellas is so much more than that. It also has HEART. This collection has story, plot, heartbreak, love, lust, intrigue, sacrifice, discovery, loss…man, it has it all.

Finally! Well-written, totally fabulous, exotically erotic stories for grownups. HUZZAH!!

Don’t take my word for it. Check it out yourself. I promise, I just did you a big favor. If you’re a fan of erotica, you’re going to love this. If you’re on the fence or not usually a fan, give this collection a chance. It will not only touch your heart, it will blow the panties (or boxers) clean off your body.

Bio
Eden Baylee writes literary erotica. Her stories are both sensual and sexual, incorporating some of her favorite things such as travel, culture, and a deep curiosity for what turns people on. Spring into Summer is her second collection of erotic novellas.

Links
Website
Blog
Twitter @edenbaylee
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About the book

In Spring into Summer, a collection of emotionally-charged erotic novellas, four women explore their sexual limits, marked by love, lust, and loss.

Life for Claire Pelletier is changed forever when she meets a professor who teaches her a most important lesson in “A Season for Everything.”

Evelyn Sutton goes in search of a man in “Unlocking the Mystery” and discovers the key to her own heart.

With an open mind, Ava Connors attends a party but wonders if reality can ever live up to her hottest fantasies in “Summer Solstice.”

In “The Lottery,” Sierra Zhao sacrifices herself to numerous men to help a friend, fully aware of the consequences.

With locations in London, Dublin, Cape Cod, and Bangkok, these four women will seek pleasure to alter their lives and push their sexual boundaries.

Spring Into Summer — you think it’s hot now, wait until you read this. Enjoy!

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Bitches Love Cookies, And I Have Proof

The Internet is a really weird place, which is probably the main reason I love it so. I’m going to tell you a little story about what happens when an innocent conversation on Facebook (okay, maybe “innocent” isn’t the right word, but work with me here) goes completely off the rails.

Part One

My daughters and I live far away from each other, but we use Facebook to stay in touch. We’re all strange and twisted — anyone who knows us is aware of this fact. The girls were actually together visiting at my oldest daughter’s home, and of course, we were conversing a bit via FB. Out of the blue, my oldest daughter posts an update:

“Bitch please.”

The youngest daughter was next.

“Bitches don’t know.”

Oldest daughter:

“Bitches be trippin’.”

And then me, because this was just too good not to jump on:

“Bitches be trollin’ for a bitch slap.”

To make a long story short, this went on for nineteen comments in all, each more hilarious than the last. It was a riot.

Part Two

I’m sure you’ve seen various memes around the ‘net like, “I made the bitch a cake. Bitches love cake,” or “I gave the bitch a cookie. Bitches love cookies.” Well, every time me or my girls saw a meme like that we just cracked up. Because it’s true — bitches DO love cake and cookies.

Part Three

Then, a good friend of mind posted a meme showing three phases of cookies actually baking on the dashboard of a car. I was all like OMG! I have got to try that someday! Another good friend of mine re-posted the meme and begged me to try this and document the process, as it would be great entertainment for her. My oldest daughter concurred, and said, “Mom, you really have to do this.”

Part Four

As you may or may not know, I am located in the Midwest which is currently in the midst of one of the hottest summers ever in the land. As in, triple digits for ten days running so far. It is hotter than the armpits of Beelzebub, to which I attribute the next part of this story. My brains are fried, my friends. Totally fried. But since it was my dear friend who needed the entertainment, and with my daughter’s support, I figured — what the hell? Worst case scenario, baking cookies in my car would be a dismal failure and best case scenario, I’ll have cookies! AND BITCHES LOVE COOKIES!

I didn’t know the Internet would lose their damned minds.

Here is a step-by-step description (with pictures and accompanying commentary) how my experience baking car cookies actually played out.

On this day, July 5th, 2012, the temperature was predicted to hit 107 degrees. That’s right. ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN DEGREES. Without the heat index. With that in mind, I left early in the morning to procure supplies for Operation: Car Cookies. I notified my kid and my friend I was about to commence the experiment with a photo album dedicated to the process so they could follow along.

Step One

The oven and the equipment.
Documentation of the time and temperature. That’s the EXTERNAL temperature, by the way. Hot.
Preparation of the baking area.
The main ingredient. I went with something simple, because if this shit got too complicated, I knew it would never work. Plus, I was too hot to actually make this from scratch. Bitch, please.
Placement of the experimental material.
The experiment commences. Yes, that is bird shit but please note it’s on the OUTSIDE of the vehicle. No cookies have been exposed to the extraneous substance and has no bearing on the experiment other than to say I need to wash my car.

I then set my phone alarm to go off at 2:15 PM CST so I could check on the cookies and provide further documentation of the process. By now I’m sweating like a gym rat (as if! I’m baking COOKIES) and I have work to do. But I will confess I was itching to go back out there and see what the cookies were doing. If anything. But I restrained myself until the alarm went off.

When I went back out there at 2:15 PM CST, this is what I found:

From the outside dashboard view. Placement of the experimental material could have been more precise; so noted for the next experiment.

I confess my heart started to beat a little faster. Could it be true? COULD I REALLY BAKE COOKIES IN MY CAR? Afraid to be too hopeful, I further documented the process.

The material is beginning to metamorphosis into something resembling an actual cookie. So far, so good. EUREKA!
Time: approximately @2:15PM CST. I forgot to take a picture of the time/temp, but my car was still displaying a 99 degree external temperature. Inside was a LOT hotter than that, and the aroma of cookies permeated the overwhelming heat of the interior. Bonus.

I set my alarm for 4 PM CST. Hell, I had work to do and this is supposed to be the EASY way to bake cookies. All this trekking back and forth was making me SWEAT. The things I do for the people I love. Remember that when I’m too old to wipe my ass, okay?

At 4 PM CST, the alarm sounded. TIME TO CHECK THE COOKIES. This is what I found:

The weatherman lied. IT’S ONE HUNDRED AND FUCKING NINE DEGREES. Seriously?? I AM LIVING IN SATAN’S ASS CRACK.

But I’m just here for the cookies.

Looking firmer, although now I’m wondering if I should have used Pam or if they’re just going to meld with the foil. I’m becoming quite concerned about this.
Of course, I had to stick my finger in one to see if it was really cooking. Oh, yeah. It’s cooking. Holy shazaam!

Okay, set the alarm once again for 6 PM CST. I realized all this trekking out to the car is starting to wear my ass out. I need a nap, but instead I went back to work, anxiously watching the clock and hoping like hell these damned things would be done so I only had to go out into that blistering heat one more time. FINALLY…

Still hotter than the balls of Lucifer. Not that I know how hot his balls are, just saying. AT 6 PM! Can you believe this??

Now, for the cookies.

Um. Not sure what happened to that chunk of cookie. It was like that when I got there. No, really. Actually, I think a chunk of cookie may have accidentally fallen into my mouth. Not sure. Things are a little fuzzy at this point. The heat, you know.
At this point, I think they’re as done as they’re going to get, and besides that, I’m finished with schlepping out to the car. A bitch can only take so much, even for cookies.
Transferred to cool off. At this point I’m wondering if they are melded to the foil, not that it’s going to stop me from taste-testing.
I was right. It was a struggle to get them off the foil, but I PREVAILED. Nothing can stop a bitch from getting her cookies, trust DAT.

TA-DA!

As you can see, some cookies were harmed in the transfer. Still, I give myself a B+ for presentation.
The first taste test. I will admit I was a bit leery —

But then, it hit me!

I maded a cookie! IN MY CAR!
NOM! I know you bitches are jealous.
Pretty damned amused about the whole thing. I can attest to the fact BITCHES LOVE CAR COOKIES! \O/
Just one more and THAT’S IT! I call this a win. I also think I’m probably crazier than a shit-house rat. But that’s okay, because I HAVE COOKIES, BITCHES!

So, that’s the story of baking car cookies. But it doesn’t stop there, because of course, it’s the Internet.

Next thing I know, people are commenting and laughing their asses off, snarfing beverages through their sinus cavities, and clamoring for this photo album on FB to go public. So I did.

Shares everywhere. My email blew up. My Facebook blew up. And I am giggling so hard at all the comments and shit I had to change my pants three times. I AM CRACKING UP. My daughter calls me and we’re both giggling so hard we couldn’t even understand a word the other one was saying. HILARIOUS. People are vowing to try this at home. Someone suggested bacon chocolate chip cookies next time. Someone else said their husband was going to try meatloaf in their attic, and I laughed so hard I fell out of my chair and scared the cat.

And then? A smart-assed husband of my daughter’s BFF posted this:

I laughed so hard I’m pretty sure I ruptured something serious. For real. TOO. DAMNED. FUNNY.

After things had calmed down, I reflected my life is just so effin’ hilarious sometimes. All I am is a bitch who wanted cookies. And to make her friends and kids feel better after a spectacularly shitty couple of weeks on the personal front. I thought about all these people giggling or smiling over some stupid, crazy hair I got up my ass, and it brought me to tears. So I ate another cookie and felt much better. Heh.

Oh, and the cherry on top of the cake? My kid called me the Best Mom In The Universe. In public.

Life just doesn’t get any better than that.

<3 Special thanks to Stephanie Haworth, Lisa Henderson Perez, Donna McCoy, Tina Bean, Martha Mineo, E Ryan Carr, and all the kindred spirits out there who love car cookies. You people made my MONTH. Much love to you!!

UPDATE: Due to special requests, there are now magnets and mugs available for purchase at my Zazzle store, which is so brand-new it’s probably not even visible yet. However, you can find the magnet here and the mug here. More products as time and hilarity allow. If you have a special request, let me know and I’ll do my best to accommodate you. As long as it doesn’t involve a goat or other barnyard animal.

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Scams For The Indies

Well, I’ve been saying it all along. The sharks are out for we indies, and what they want to do is rend the flesh from your bones with sharp, wicked teeth and eat you.

Oh sure. It’s all fun and games until someone loses a leg. Or an arm. Or both.

Think I’m kidding? Nope. Check out this post by Patti Larsen regarding the ill-conceived notion of a “Mark of Excellence”. And this thing had a price tag of FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS. Seriously? Thankfully, since this post and others like it, the IBC (Indie Book Collective) has pulled their “program”. For now. UPDATE: (Yes, already.) Apparently the “Mark of Excellence” program is still available, although I refuse to link to it from here. RUN. AWAY. Seriously. This is so much bullshit I’m about to faint from the stench.

And then, this weekend, my friend and fellow indie, Janet Sked pointed out yet another entity trying to hop on the “let’s choose for readers what they want to read” bandwagon. Although I HATE to give them any hits, Grub Street Reads wants you to know “the best indie authors come from Grub Street”. Here’s the gist of their program if you really want to go look. But in a nutshell, the people here want you to PAY to put your book through a vetting process by their “qualified” endorsers and then, if approved, YOU CAN GET A STICKER FOR YOUR BOOK COVER!

Woohoo! I’m so excited I think I peed a little!

Look, let me just break it down. Indies vetting other indies is a CONFLICT OF INTEREST. Especially if they are charging a fee. Granted, Grub Street is nowhere as expensive as the “Mark of Excellence”, but still. And they might be lovely people. The truth is, there’s already a vetting process in place — it’s called READERS. Readers who now have the choice of reading whatever they damned well please, whether it’s something like Ninety Shades of Turquoise or the latest from a long-term bestselling author.

Get it? There’s no one standing between you, the indie author, or any author really, and the reader. NO ONE. Which is the whole premise behind this indie revolution, amirite?

This is really what it’s all about. SOMEONE WANTS TO TAKE ALL YOUR MONEYZ.

What makes this particularly disgusting to me is it seems these types of “programs” are preying on the new writer, the scared indie, the struggling artist who just wants to cut through the white noise out there and stand out. But if you think a shiny golden sticker handed out by people charging you money for the process is going to shoot your work of genius straight to the bestseller list, you’d better get a grip.

Think about it. Does Amanda Hocking have a golden sticker? Or Konrath? No, but they do have one thing in common — a shit-ton of material out there you can choose to read. Actually, how many of your favorite authors actually have a golden sticker on their book cover? Do you even notice? Does it make a difference in whom you choose to read?

Readers don’t care about stickers. They care about STORY. You can have a book cover with a bajillion stickers on it, but if what’s inside sucks, those stickers aren’t going to mean a damned thing. Not in the long run.

Write a good story. Save your money for great covers, great editing, and put the thing out there for the readers. And then you know what you do? WRITE ANOTHER ONE. Rinse and repeat. Your readers will find you, promise.

There is no magic bullet for success but HARD WORK. You’re either in, or you’re out. There is no in-between and there is no short cut.

Sorry to burst your bubble. Here. Have a cookie. THEN GET TO WRITING.
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