The Tiger King (Paladin Shifters Book 1)

Friday, October 28, 2016

Introducing: Cup O'Jarrett

Welcome to my new blogging project called “Cup O’Jarrett”. For those of you who follow my writing, you’ll recognize Jarrett as one of a pair of ATF agents from my Death and Destruction series. I am currently writing book 4, “Locked and Loaded” which I hope to have out by the end of the year but by mid-January 2017 at the latest.

2016 has gone quickly for me. I’ve released several books but have been concentrating on the D&D series since I began writing these two hot men back in February. I have gotten caught up in their adventures to the point where I can’t stop writing them. With nearly 100 reviews on the 3 books I’ve released so far, I think my readers appreciate the road I’ve taken. These two are so easy and fun to write, I think they’ll be around for a while. I don’t see any end to the series as long as the stories keep coming so please stick with me if you are enjoying them.

I’ll be giving you folks an update on my progress every now and then on the weekly blog and I also intend on doing a monthly newsletter. My friend Jeff Adkins has been working to set up an email delivery from all the folks who’ve signed up as a “Loganite” on my website. If you’d like to get on the monthly newsletter list, please run over to: http://authorpatricialogan.com/index.php/component/users/?view=registration and become a Loganite. I look forward to being able to share special excerpts and back stories exclusive to my friends over there. Thank you so much.

The first newsletter will have a behind the scenes look at the research tools I’ve been using for these stories. It’s a lot of work but really fun and I thought you might like to see where I get my information because, trust me, not all of it is fiction J

So, without further ado, I leave you with a little excerpt from “Locked and Loaded” (Death and Destruction series Book 4)

“Agents, I think you both know Agent Adael Dayan,” SAC Stanger said.

Adael Dayan was Israeli Mossad and had worked a sensitive overseas mission with Jarrett right before Jarrett’s service with the Marine Corps had been up. In fact, that last mission had gone wrong in several ways and had resulted in Jarrett making the decision to finally quit the Corps and leave his career behind. Jarrett and Adael had gone their separate ways as well but not without having to cut ties that were deeper than simply two spies working together. He glanced at Thayne. His lover was eyeballing Adael with an expression of deep concern. It was obvious to Jarrett that Thayne didn’t appreciate the introduction of a man he knew had once been Jarrett’s lover. They’d met while working the fireworks case this past summer. He and Thayne both stood as Adael entered. Dayan smiled broadly and walked into the room.

“Jarrett!” he said. He opened both arms and before Jarrett could even back up, Adael had pulled him into a hug. He had no choice but to wrap his arms around Adael and hug him back. He watched Thayne over his shoulder. He looked pissed as hell.

“Dayan. This is a surprise.”

Adael let go and stepped back before turning to Thayne. To Jarrett’s shock, he swept Thayne into a hug as well.

“It’s good to see you too, Thayne,” Adael added.

His partner flailed for a few seconds and then reluctantly hugged Adael back as he sent Jarrett a puzzled expression. Jarrett threw him a tiny smile as Adael finally let go. He grabbed Thayne’s biceps, holding him at arm’s length as he grinned widely.

“It’s so good to see you both,” he said, looking between Thayne and Jarrett. When he finally dropped his hands and turned to hold out a hand to Stanger, Jarrett breathed a sigh of relief.

“You too, Dayan. What are you doing here?” Jarrett asked as Stanger shook Adael’s hand and then waved the three of them into chairs. Adael walked over to the wall and grabbed a vacant chair, dragging it over to join Jarrett and Thayne’s in front of Stanger’s desk.

“SAC Stanger and the ATF asked me here to help out with getting you an introduction to Mills Lang,” Adael answered simply.

Jarrett snorted. “And just how are ya gonna do that?”

“As I started to say, Evans, Agent Dayan is going to get you an introduction to Mills Lang’s new crew as an Iranian buyer,” Stanger continued. “Agent Dayan has been working on an operation which has been going on inside Lang’s organization for months now and at risk of making a pun, when he rolled out the big guns, Dayan here knew we’d be interested in seeing what was going on. He brought it to Homeland and they brought it to us.”

Links to “Slip and Slide” Available Now…

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Tuesday, January 12, 2016

Vesper Stories

Some of you may have read my erotic MM Romance Master's Boys Stories. In book 3, "Kaden", we meet Zachary Teak's newest secretary, Vesper. I decided about a year ago to write Vesper's story down as a series of free shorts and post them on my blog. This is the first installment called "Dinner with Frankie". Please check back to read more of Vesper's stories each month and thank you for tuning in :)

DINNER WITH FRANKIE

Vesper’s Story
Vesper Cosgrove stared into the mirror, leaning forward as she put the final touches on her scarlet red lip stick. Frank Ciarello, her beau, would be at her office to pick her up very shortly. She was so excited to have her own man, if she could honestly call Frank her man. The very thought of it had butterflies swarming in her tummy. The Italian American pastry chef was a handsome man, standing about five foot ten inches tall, with coarse, curly, salt and pepper hair. Vesper towered over the man, at six feet five inches tall. Of course, Vesper’s plumbing was still male, but as she examined her face in the mirror for any trace of stubble, she was pleased that the electrolysis that she had painstakingly endured had done its job and the months of treatments had resulted in a hairless jaw. The hormone therapy that she had been on for over five years had resulted in nicely shaped breasts and a higher voice than she’d had as Lester Cosgrove, the name she’d been born with.
Vesper had lived as a woman for the last five years though she’d emotionally identified as a woman for most of her life, deeply hidden and trying to find her way in a homophobic world. Back in the day, there was no such thing as transgender. It took the notoriety of the brave Billy Jean King and her homophobic rival, Bobby Riggs, that eventually brought the words  transgender and transsexual to the 1970’s dinner table. Yeah, right… not in Lester’s conservative home. The word ‘gay’ was a slur to be thrown around by her homophobic dad.
Once her father had passed away, Lester had come out to mom, trying to explain who she was yet, her mother was one of those 1950’s Ozzie and Harriet moms who was left clueless by her husband and his aerospace career, which was thought to be so exotic by the whole family. Lester’s little brother Scott, the only sibling, hadn’t wanted to understand and had distanced himself from Les since then. Vesper’d decided at age thirty, that she was finally going to leave the male persona behind and become completely female. Five years into her transformation, her wardrobe was strictly female, though finding ladies shoes to fit her size thirteen feet was always a bit of a challenge. She looked into the mirror one last time and picked up a small rectangular box. Opening it, she picked up a Q-Tip and selected a tiny black heart shaped beauty mark and lifted it to her upper lip. She dabbed it onto her skin and smiled as the final touch to her makeup was applied. Satisfied that she looked as good as she ever would, she closed the box and stood.
Vesper glanced at the clock which was hanging on the wall of her office and noted that she had only a few more minutes before Frank would arrive. Once again, excitement pounded through her veins as she thought about the man she was going to meet. Vesper still found it hard to believe she was about to go out on her first date as a woman. She shied away from men who gave her notice. Her stature and the size of her hands as well as her still somewhat masculine facial features, generally made her the object of ridicule. Someday she hoped to be able to afford plastic surgery which would soften her jaw and brow line, finishing her transformation once the gender reassignment had been completed.
Vesper thought back over the last year and how far she’d come. The economy was terrible and when Bertha Meadows, the elderly lady that she’d been a companion to, passed away, Vesper had no income and nowhere to live. She’d lived with Bertha for almost twelve years, seeing that she ate nutritional meals, taking her to her doctor’s visits, and doing all of the cooking, shopping, and general house cleaning. In the end, Vesper had taken great care to make sure that Bertha’s passage into the next world was as comfortable as possible, decorating her sick room with fresh cut flowers, and playing soft music for her. She bathed her and dressed her and always made sure that she got an hour’s worth of sunshine every morning, rolling her wheelchair onto the back patio and reading to her. When Bertha’s son offered to let Vesper stay at the house in exchange for a reasonable rent, Vesper counted herself blessed. Securing an income would be her next priority. Grieving from her companion’s death, Vesper was reeling and terrified for her future before answering an advertisement for a receptionist at a gay sex club called DOMZ.com.
Vesper had always been painfully shy and mortified by a terrible speech impediment that she’d suffered since her father had verbally abused her almost since birth. When she walked into her boss’s office and Zack Teak had hired her on the spot, her joy almost couldn’t be contained. From that moment forward, Vesper made it her goal in life to please everyone that she worked with. She often prepared little treats at home to bring to work and share with the Doms and submissives that walked the halls of the online BDSM sex club. She made sure that Mr. Teak had his favorite coffee prepared just the way he liked it every morning. She cut up little Danishes in geometric shapes and served them to her boss on her own bone china plates with lacy paper doilies underneath. Mr. Teak seemed appreciative with her work but one day, he called her into the office to tell her in the kindest way possible, that her speech impediment was hurting his business. He’d been getting complaints from the submissive members of his online website, that when they called in to book appointments with one of the in-house Doms, they couldn’t understand her. He’d told Vesper that he had to make a change.
Vesper remembered the chill that passed through her at the thought of being out on the street, homeless. It was not a pleasant thought and it terrified her. Then, miracle of miracles, Mr. Teak had looked across the desk, his brow furrowed with sadness, and come up with an alternative. When he offered her the job of concierge, Vesper had nearly flown across his desk and kissed him right on the mouth. Though no position of concierge had been filled at DOMZ.com before, Mr. Teak had assured her that she could make the position what she would and left the job description quite loose. Vesper had taken the reins and decided that it would be her responsibility, as it always had in the past, to take care of people. After all, it was what she did best.
Vesper was on pins and needles when her cell rang.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Magpie. I’m out in the reception area and there’s no one here to let me back,” Frank said. After six, when Logan went home, the submissives who had appointments were shown back by Frederick, the nighttime security man at DOMZ.com. The overnight webmaster worked from home. It was strange to Vesper that Frederick wasn’t at his post.
“Oh, thath thrange. Frederick thould be there,” she said. “I’ll be out in jutht a minute, Frank.”
“Okay, Magpie. I’ll be waiting impatiently.” She smiled and hung up. She was very excited about their date. She really liked Frank a great deal. She took one last look in the full length mirror and picked up her handbag, letting herself out of her office. She nearly ran into Mr. Teak and Frederick who were walking down the corridor, speaking to each other.
“Oh, there you are, Frederick. Hello, Mithter Teak,” she said to her boss.
“Were you looking for me, Vesper?” Frederick asked.
“Oh, no, my date ith here. He jutht called from retheption,” she said.
“Did you say your date, Vesper?” Mr. Teak asked. Vesper smiled, shyly.
“Well, yeth. Would you like to meet him?” she asked.
“But of course,” Mr. Teak said. He looked very intrigued.
“Well, thith way, then,” she said with a grin. They walked out into the reception area and Frank stood next to the reception desk holding a clear plastic box with a wrist corsage. Her heart fluttered for a moment when she saw the loving expression in his eye. He smiled at her and stepped forward, looking so handsome in his three piece suit. He stretched up on tiptoe and she leaned down so that he could peck her on the cheek. She must have been seven or so inches taller than he was. She turned to Mr. Teak and Frederick who stood behind her, smiling.
“Mithter Teak, I’d like you to meet Frank Thiarello, my date. Frank thith ith my bothe and thith ith Frederick our thecurity guard,” she said. Frank smiled and shook their hands.
“Nice to meet you, both. Vesper talks about DOMZ.com like it is her family,” Frank said in his thick Brooklyn accent.
“You too,” Zack replied.
“Frank ith the baker who made Ivan and Wadeth wedding cake,” Vesper said.
“Oh, so that’s how you met,” Zack said. “Well, it was both a beautiful and a delicious cake,” he added.
“Thank you but the best thing that ever came out of that job is my little Magpie,” Frank said. Vesper blushed. “Come on, honey. I made dinner reservations; nice meeting you both,” Frank said. He took Vesper’s hand, and she wiggled her fingers at Mr. Teak and Frederick and walked out of the room. Before the door closed, Vesper heard the muted conversation.
“Well, that’s something you don’t see every day,” Frederick said. Zack laughed.
“Looks like love is in the air,” Zack said happily.
                                                                      ****
Frank took Vesper’s hand and wrapped it around his arm before pushing open the exit door to DOMZ.com. Vesper had told him that she had shared a small bungalow in Glendale with a long term elderly companion who had recently passed but since it was their first date, he hadn’t wanted to ask for her address and instead had insisted on picking her up from the office where he knew she felt safe. Though she was a big woman, the vulnerability that she exuded was surprisingly sweet. She looked to be about thirty but he expected that she may be a little older than that but he didn’t care. Her innocence was one of the things that had attracted him to her in the first place. There was something special about his Vesper that was very special and getting to know her better was going to become his top priority.
Tonight, Vesper was dressed in that pretty 1950’s style dress and platinum blonde wig that he loved so much. He remembered his own mother and his aunts dressing the same style when he’d been just a boy. He noticed the small things about her that reminded him of the ladies in his vast Italian family… the way she put on white gloves, the way she giggled when he’d put the wrist corsage on her, and the way her big blue eyes glittered when she smiled shyly afterward, batting her long false eyelashes. He’d thought she was just lovely.
“I had planned on taking us to my favorite restaurant and then catching the late showing of the movie if that’s okay with you, Magpie?” he asked, as they walked toward his vehicle. She looked over and down at him, a small satisfied smile playing upon her pretty lips.
“Of courth, Frank, that thoundth wonderful,” she lisped. Many men may have been put off by her speech patterns but Frank had been charmed by it from the moment he’d heard her sweet voice over the phone.
“Good. It’s hard ta find good Italian food in this town, but Evangelina’s is my favorite.” They walked up to his classic 1964 Chevy Cavalier and he immediately went to the passenger side, putting his key into the lock and turning it, opening the long door on the shiny yellow and white car. She slid inside onto the white leather seats and then he closed the door, walking around to the driver’s side, and climbing in. Vesper sat daintily on the long bench seat, which he’d pushed back to allow her long legs to fit. She grinned over at him, flashing straight white teeth.
“Thith ith quite a car, Frank,” she said, reaching out to admire the dash with a gloved hand. He was quite proud of the classic car which had been parked in his father’s garage for almost forty years before Frank decided to move out to California and expand his very busy cake and pastry shop to the west coast. He started up the powerful motor and grabbed the wide white wheel, backing out of the parking space.
“Well, thanks, hon. This usta be my dad’s ride. I was the only boy, surrounded by six sisters, so my pops willed the car to me,” he said, hearing the Brooklyn boy accent coming through. You could take the boy out of Brooklyn but not the Brooklyn out of the boy.
“Well, ith lovely.” Frank watched as Vesper continued to look around the car, seemingly admiring all of the fine details that he kept in pristine condition.
“So, you like Italian food, Magpie?” Frank asked, beginning to feel the butterflies for the first time. He wanted to make a good impression so badly.
“I love Italian, Frankie,” she said and then she giggled, probably realizing that the answer had more than one meaning. He grinned at her before turning his attention back out through the wide windshield as he drove down Santa Monica Boulevard. He liked the nickname she’d used for him. His mother and numerous aunts and uncles had all called him Frankie. It made him feel like he was at home. He stopped at a light and looked over at her. She held her white patent leather purse in her lap and covered it with her large hands. The fact that Vesper was taller and broader than Frank really didn’t bother him a whole lot. He was comfortable in his own skin, and after one marriage failed disastrously, Frank was anxious to find a companion. He and his ex wife had split up nearly ten years before, and he had buried himself in his business, leaving little time for any kind of social life. He was just smacked on the side of the head when he’d met Vesper and for the first time in a long time, he was anxious to dive into the dating pool again.
The place Frank was taking Vesper wasn’t too far away and he was anxious to sit down and talk with her over a glass of their best Chianti and bread sticks. They drove in comfortable silence for a few minutes until he spotted Evangenlina’s and he turned into the drive. A valet rushed up to the car and Frank got out, taking a ticket from him before walking around to the passenger side, where Vesper was being helped out by a second valet. As soon as she stood, Frank was there, grinning like a loon as he took her hand and led her to the front of the restaurant.
“Oh, thith thmellth wonderful, Frank,” Vesper said as the scent of delicious garlic, roasting peppers, and marinara gravy hit his nostrils. The Maître’d stepped up to them, dressed sharply in his black tuxedo, holding two thick menus.
“Good evening, Sir, Miss. Do you have reservations?” he inquired with a goateed smile.
“Yes, Frank Chiarello at seven-thirty,” Frank answered as the waiter nodded, stepping up to a podium before making a note on the chart there.
“Very good, Sir, this way,” he said, turning and leading them through the dark restaurant. The deeper they got into the dark place, the better it smelled, and Frank found his stomach rumbling as they were led to a booth shaped in a half moon, near the back of the restaurant. A red jar candle sat on top of the table, providing just the right traditional Italian restaurant atmosphere and Frank took Vesper’s hand as he helped her to take her seat before walking around and taking his own across from her as a waiter arrived with menus and a basket of bread.
“This is William,” the Maître’d said, introducing the waiter. “He will be serving you this evening.” Frank was thrilled with how elegant the service was and proud that they were so solicitous in front of his pretty date. The waiter handed menus to them both and took their order of a fine Chianti which Frank selected off of their wine list before departing. He looked across the table. In the muted light, his Magpie looked beautiful, her eyes twinkling the way that they had from the first time he’d met her. She smiled shyly back at him.
“The atmothphere in here ith tho wonderful, Frank,” she said, reaching one gloved hand across the table to him. He grasped it, loving the feel of the smooth white fabric and catching a whiff of the corsage on her wrist.
“Oh, I am so glad ya like it, Magpie. I wanted ta make a good impression on youz,” he confessed, feeling somewhat self conscious because her speech, though interesting in its pattern, didn’t sound like some Guido right off the Jersey Shore. He looked down at their hands, still clasped across the table. “I… I hope ya don’t think of me as just some schmuck from Brooklyn. It’s hard tryin to make an impression on a real lady,” he confessed. He glanced up when she squeezed his hand.
“Frank, can I tell you a thory?” Vesper asked. He brightened a bit, looking into her compassionate eyes.
“Of course, Magpie,” he said and then he noticed the waiter coming back.
“Are you ready to order, Sir, Miss?” William asked. Frank hadn’t even cracked open the menu but he knew what he wanted. He looked across the table at Vesper.
“Magpie, can I order for both of us?” he asked. She vigorously nodded, closing her menu and handing it off to William, the waiter.
“Of courth, Frankie,” she said and he smiled, handing the menu to the waiter.
“Great, well, let’s see, start us off with a Caesar salad, oysters Florentine, and then the veal with bacon wrapped scallops and angel hair pasta with the basil marinara,” he recited.
“Very good selections, Sir,” William said and then closing his pad, he left them alone. Frank watched as Vesper removed her gloves, setting them aside, before picking up a piece of the rosemary bread and swirling it into the olive oil that William had poured for them while Frank ordered. She put the fragrant piece of bread into her mouth and sighed with what could only be joy. Frank tore a piece off for himself and repeated the action, slightly embarrassed by how clunky he must appear to such a delicate creature.
“Please, Magpie, you said you had a story,” he ventured. She smiled shyly and his gaze was drawn to her perfect lips. She was enchanting.
“Thith thory ith of a little boy who wath born to a middle clath family in the theventieth. He alwayth felt out of plathe. Hith father wath a homophobe and he boathted about it openly every night at the dinner table. The little boy knew he wath different from otherth from an early age. He worthiped Dolly Parton and whenever he could, he would thneak into hith motherth bedroom and try on her clotheth and heelth. One day, he got into her makeup. He put on a fathe that he knew he wanted to wear every day for the retht of hith life.” Vesper stopped and her eyes glittered as she looked over at him. He suddenly knew just how important this moment was and exactly where this was going. He was falling for this woman and falling hard. He knew at that moment that she was one of the most courageous people he had ever met. He smiled at her and reached back across the table reaching for her ungloved hand. Her nails were painted bright red and she was soft and beautiful.
“Magpie, I understand. Nothing youz said changes anything about the way I feel about ya. I think youz are the bravest most beautiful person that I’ve ever met and I want you ta know, we’ll take this just the way youz wants it,” he replied, putting as much of his heart into the words that he could. He wouldn’t trade this woman for any other woman in the world. He watched her eyes become shiny and she dropped her gaze, looking down at their joined fingers.
“Thank you, Frankie. I hope I never dithappoint you,” she said, her voice becoming thick. She chanced a glance up and he cocked his head and smiled.
“No chancha that, baby. No chancha that.”

The End





Monday, November 9, 2015

A cover, a blurb, and an excerpt from "Say My Name" Coming soon!!!



     Dawson Thomas is a rent boy, a young man who goes out hoping to impress a man who’ll pay him to be a submissive for a kinky night together. One night he accompanies a friend to a BDSM club in New York. Raw Hide is a place where men gather to live out their fantasies and Dawson can’t believe his good luck when the owner invites him upstairs to be paid for a night of kink. When others whisper that the man is hideously deformed, calling him “The Monster”, Dawson remembers the cost of his tuition and puts aside his fears, accompanying the bodyguard to the man’s apartment.

     Each night, Cole Chambliss paces in his rooms above Raw Hide, watching beautiful submissives give themselves to their Doms, just a few steps down the stairs. Cole longs for days past when he could go out in public… when no one would stare at him in horror. After paying a bitter price when fighting for his country, Cole knows his days of walking among whole men are gone forever... that is until one night he takes a risk that terrifies him. The stunning submissive who’s caught his eye is something extraordinary and Cole decides he must chance everything for one last shot at happiness.

     One dark night, one desperate risk, and one horrifying request later, Cole hears the words he’s feared since his return from the war. “Say my name, Sir… please just… say my name…”


Excerpt from "Say my Name" Coming soon...

Cole waited in his room and at the appointed time, Bull knocked on the door. He glanced at his watch and noted it was midnight, right on the nose. He walked to the door and opened it to find Dawson waiting with his large friend, naked and blindfolded as he’d instructed. Cole nodded his thanks to Bull and reached out, taking the boy’s hand and drawing him into the room before closing the door. He knew his bodyguard would stay outside guarding the door against intrusion for as long as he kept the boy inside. Dawson stood expectantly, just inside the door to his living room as he waited for Cole to do what he wanted with him. Cole had planned what he wanted to do with the boy and it would take place in his playroom.

“H-hello, Master,” Dawson began.

Cole had the feeling the boy wanted to talk with him but there was no way he was going to carry on a conversation with him. He didn’t do that with anyone any more. Even his exchanges with Bull, the only man he did speak to, were short and to the point. His days of long conversations were over.

“Come,” he rasped. Cole took Dawson by the hand and pulled him down the hallway to the playroom where he had everything laid out for the scene he’d so thoughtfully concocted. He was going to test the boy’s mettle tonight and had every intention of pushing him hard. Cole wanted to find out whether the boy was actually attracted to the pain or more comfortable with the bondage and control. Some submissives wanted it all and there was almost always bondage with the pain. It gave a submissive a feeling of security to be tied or bound in some fashion, while pain was applied. All submissives wanted to give up control but not all were pain sluts. Some wanted it hard and would take anything a Dom wanted to dish out, to the point where they’d allow themselves to be beaten into unconsciousness before uttering a safeword. That was not what Cole wanted and though he’d participated in painful percussion play and very hard scenes many times, it was not his preference unless the submissive required it. Tonight he intended on finding out just how far he could push the young twink submissive before he gave in. 



Friday, November 6, 2015

Talking self-publishing today on Books and More


Self-Publishing- My Step by step guide for authors

Self-Publishing- MY step by step guide

Good day, everyone! I hope you’re all ready for the weekend. I know I sure am. It’s not been a terribly productive week. I keep looking at the calendar and thinking I should be further along on this MS than I am in order to meet my own publishing deadline for “The Brat”, the book I’m working on right now.

As a self-publisher of over 40 books, I have found that the only way I get paid on a regular basis, is if I keep to a strict release schedule. This means writing one book after another and getting them edited, formatted, cover art(ed)… lol, and doing it all on a tight deadline without sacrificing quality. My readers demand that I do this so they will have something of mine to read.

Don’t get me wrong. I adore what I do for a living and I feel immensely blessed to be able to be able to do it. Writing was never a dream job for me as it is for so many authors, but once I began doing it, it became a passion and when I discovered others appreciated what I did and actually started giving me feedback about my stories, I was convinced that there wasn’t anything I’d rather put in the effort and time that writing takes to create. Being an author and being known for a quality product became my life.

Being a self-publisher is a little different than working with a publishing house. I’ve done both successfully but here I am self-publishing, so you can guess which I prefer.

I’ve always been decent at running my own business and most people in my life will tell you that my personality requires me to help run their business/life whether they like it or not. First of all, I started off working pretty young. My wonderful parents instilled in me the best work ethic on the planet… Work hard and make yourself satisfied with your work, or don’t work at all. Oh, yeah, that last part wasn’t an option.

My parents both worked and they made me proud when I saw how hard it was for them sometimes. My mom went back to work after my brother was born and would come home exhausted only to have to take care of the rest of us. I learned how to cook in my early teens to help out my mom but she still did a hell of a lot of work in the home. This was a good lesson for me to learn because I found myself doing this a mere ten years later when I started my own family and had to work full-time. Publishing is much like this.

Though I began writing books after I finished up working outside the house, I still had a family and a house to run. My husband and kids still appreciated food on the table when they got home from work and school no matter how much my characters were screaming at me to write their love scenes. Sometimes I had to leave them on the page mid-coitis just to cook dinner. I’m sure they didn’t appreciate that one little bit!

These days when I self-publish, I follow a pretty simple formula which has worked for me like clockwork so far:

1.      Plot out my book in my head- This is the stage which usually occurs in the shower or at the sink when my hands are wet and never in front of my computer when I can actually sit down and write my thoughts. (of course it does)

2.      Scratch out a synopsis- Preferably this has a beginning, middle, and an ending which will make me and my readers happy with it once I actually present the finished book to them. It also contains details (in an unorganized fashion) that may or may not ever make it into the finished book.

3.      Order my cover art- For me, this comes before the story is written. I have my concept down, I know who my main characters are and what they look like, and I have at least a major part of their story in my head. I like my covers before I write the story because if the models are good, I refer back to their images often while I write my book.

4.      Write my outline- I’m a plotter and a planner, not a panster. I definitely need the bones and structure a well-written outline provides. Because I write books with at least an element of mystery and always with bad guys, I need to know what’s going to happen before it does. I need to have some guideline to follow. I learned this running my own business. If you don’t have structure, the whole thing is going to crumble… plus, I’m just plain OCD to the max.

5.      Sit down and write my book- Obviously, this part takes the longest and for me, it requires that I set a strict writing schedule to complete it by a particular release date. I try to write a minimum of 2,000 words a day. If I don’t do this, meeting a deadline on time is very difficult because I give myself about two months in between releases, sometimes less. I have cranked out a book a month, but that takes extraordinary creative juices and let’s face it, we can’t all be “ON” all the time.

6.      Deliver it to my editor- I adore my editor but she does keep me on my toes. I give her about two days for every 10,000 words of my story for first round edits. This means, if I don’t give her two whole weeks with a novel-length book, she gets cranky. I get it. She explained it very well one time. She said, (paraphrasing) “Look, like you, if I read over the manuscript and try to find mistakes and rush… I’m going to miss some. Being an editor means that I have to NOT become comfortable with your style and flow… which I do when I read more than 10,000 words at a time. I need to take a fresh look after 10K the next day, or I will become “USED” to your style and miss stuff the same way you do when you proof your own MS.”

After the first round of edits, we do one more. She finds additional stuff she missed her first time around. Then… when I get back her final, I give it one more word-by-word proofing that takes two more days for a long book. Though I adore my editor, and she makes every conscious effort to catch all my boo boos, I admit, during this last stage, I usually find a few more typos. I’ve found as many as 8 on a very long book but I blame myself for those because (A) I made them and didn’t catch them to begin with and (B) I rushed her in this case… just like she told me not to. This part of my to-do list is the longest because in my opinion, editing is the most crucial part of the book. Let’s face it, any author worth their salt can write a book. It’s the editor who polishes the rock into a diamond (or the closest thing I have written to a diamond thus far J ).

7.      Send my completed baby to my formatter- I have to say, my formatter is a cranky guy. He’s gonna kill me for saying that but he has figuratively slapped my hand more than once. (Say in your most whiny voice) “Don’t double space between paragraphs.” “Don’t hit the space bar twice after a period in a sentence.” “Don’t add stupid little squigglys to your chapters. Smashwords hates that!”… I think you get my drift. He’s cranky but he’s taught me a lot about what he goes through to make my MS look pretty so I try to make him happy with me. Oh… he hates crushing deadlines too. (Hee Hee- apparently, I’m a failure at my own time table because I seem to demand “Rushes” from everyone.) I chalk that up to an attitude of “Okay, I’m done and now you should be… RIGHT NOW!” “Are you done yet? Are you done yet? Are you done yet?”

Inevitably someone, usually my conscience, yells… “Shut the eff up!”

8.      Finally, we publish- This takes even MORE patience, something I’m usually short on. I always put up my book on Amazon first. This bookseller is the worst when it comes to checking my MS for flaws, typos, etc. They also run software to detect unacceptable key words and phrases that will raise a red flag to whether they should publish my book or not. An example of this for a book in the “Romance” category would be the word Incest. In a self-help or psychology text, Incest is probably perfectly acceptable to Amazon and it wouldn’t be flagged but in the “Romance” or “Erotica” category, this is a big no-no and Amazon will (and has) refused to publish it. This is probably why they run a finished book through such a strict review process but they are most definitely worse than most. Smashwords, for example, takes anywhere from a minute to an hour to publish my book once it’s submitted and then it is later “checked” for inclusion to their extended distribution catalogue. See, Smashwords distributes to 8 or 10 major retailers such as Barnes and Noble and iBooks. Kobo, which is huge in Europe, takes about 72 hours to publish but I do my foreign language translations over there because a lot of my readers in Spain, Italy, and France read on the Kobo platform.

I suppose that’s about all I can say about self-publishing. I hope, if you are a new author and haven’t published before, some of what I do will be helpful to you. For my readers, I have just let you into the “business” side of being an author. I hope I’ve been able to give you a little bit of an appreciation for what it is I do and why. Until later, thank you so much for tuning in J