joannebest











{April 28, 2015}   Beginnings ~ Persephone My Way

perseph6

The minute I heard the ground begin to open up beneath me I should have bolted.
Turned tail and run like the devil was nipping at my heels, which wasn’t far from the truth.
Because I was so set on proving I was perfectly capable of being on my own I let myself get carried away by the King of Hell Himself.
Because I was young and stubborn and wanted to piss off my Mother I got myself kidnapped.
Ok, so maybe I am being a little hard on myself but do I deserve anything better?
I knew I was playing with fire, I knew Hades had his eye on me. I knew I should have listened to my Mother but I was getting tired of being sweet and innocent little Sephie. Tired of the same old thing day in and day out and never really having much fun.
I was bored with my life, bored with myself. Bored with the day to day sameness my life had become.
I wanted something different, something to shake up the norm.
I wanted an adventure.
Be careful what you wish for isn’t just a cliché because I found out the hard way it’s damn well going to come back and bite you on the ass.
Sure, it was exciting in the beginning. Isn’t it every girl’s dream to be swept off her feet in the name of love, consequences be damned?
It never occurred to me I did nothing more than exchange one prison for another.
~
I admit it, I’ve been a brat lately.
Hades isn’t too thrilled with me and neither is my Mother these days but somehow, I can’t seem to muster up the energy to care.
A lie of course, I was born to care and the real problem is I care too much about everything and everyone.
Except myself.
I’ve spent so much time trying to make everyone around me happy and content that somewhere along the line, I’ve neglected my own needs.
And now I’m miserable.
I’m driving everyone, including myself, crazy.
~
Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not whining, I get it, I understand the position I’m in is completely my fault.
I knew better than to fall for Hade’s manipulating ways. He’s a charmer when he wants something and he decided he wanted me.
I just wanted something, anything, to break up the monotony of my life and it didn’t take much for Hades to tempt me away from the light, “just for a little getaway” he told me. He even agreed to my little caveat, he’d cover for me and we’d go with the kidnapping story if I agreed to spend some time with him.
I figured I could finagle my way out of anything until I realized Hades seemed to be sincere when it came to his feelings for me.
He didn’t want to let me leave.
He was insistent I stay with him.
No amount of tears or temper tantrums moved him. He decided to back out of our agreement and play by the book. It wasn’t that I ate while I was there, it was what I ate.
Stupid pomegranate seeds became my downfall.
A deal is a deal as long as it was in his favor.
So even though I was dragged literally kicking and screaming to the altar, there was no way out.
I was married to Hades.
After a knockdown drag-out fight, also known as my Mother punching Hades repeatedly in the face until he agreed to let me spend a few months a year above ground with my family and friends, he and I settled into a somewhat comfortable rhythm. But lately, we were out of sync.
Something was going on with him and I couldn’t figure out what he was up to.
His mood swings were worse than mine and he had a temper like no other. Oh he was good at hiding it when he wanted but he had a few tells that let me know when trouble was headed my way and by the twitching of his eye I knew this false sense of security he had lulled me into was slowly turning. Problem was, I wasn’t sure which direction we were headed.
Hades can be sweet as honey, but he can also be a downright mean son of a bitch with a sadistic streak I almost admired for it’s sheer audacity.
Except when he aimed it in my direction.
He’s been treating me with kid gloves lately, yet that constant twitch near his left eye told me he was up to something.
I knew him better than anyone, his patterns were predictable and though I hate to admit it, so were mine.
He’d accuse me of something I didn’t do, I’d defend myself, he’d keep his stone cold icy glare on me while remaining silent until I couldn’t take it anymore and before I knew it I was crying my eyeballs out begging for forgiveness, then thanking him for it knowing all the while I’d done nothing wrong.
All signs were pointing in the usual direction, Hades was nearing an explosion aimed at me. I think it made him feel all manly to see me cry and beg for forgiveness.
I’m as good at hiding my emotions as he is, although he hasn’t picked up on it yet.
There’s one other thing he hasn’t noticed, I’m no longer the same Persephone I used to be.

perseph10

AUTHORS NOTE: This is a work in progress I’ve been neglecting, Persephone has been nagging me to pay her some attention and she’s a force to be reckoned with…what else can I do but give in to the muse (not that Muse, but Persephone’s muse) and what better place to start than the beginning? I think…



Sometimes you find an incredible book you wish would never end. If you’re really lucky, the Author is so amazing she gives you the gift of more… Please enjoy more of Trinity and Graciela from Mistress On Her Knees, you’ll be happy you did.



Mistress on Her KneesMistress on Her Knees by Anastasia Vitsky

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Mistress on Her Knees is one of those books that live on in your mind long after you’ve read the last sentence.
I should know, I’ve read it four times already.
Once lovers, Mistress Graciela, a tough professional Domme and young Trinity, used to nothing more than an abusive painful home life, begin a life together. Submissive Trinity and her beloved Domme Graciela’s lives are turned upside down when betrayal steps in.

Ten years later, Trinity is working at The Castle, an exclusive BSDM Club. As Nurse Trinity, no longer submissive, now a Domme herself, Trinity crosses a boundary with submissive Mira (from Mira’s Miracle) and knows the only person in the world who can help her fix it is her ex-lover and Domme, Graciela.
What happens when two headstrong women try to work together to right a wrong, and will they ever be able to re-ignite the flame that never really died? Should they?
The book goes back and forth through time, from when Trinity and Gracie first met to the present, which is something I love.

Anastasia Vitsky is a master at both character and world building. The dialogue is witty and beautifully descriptive, I sometimes forget I’m reading a book and feel like I know these characters.
One of the things I love is the way Ms. Vitsky has her characters from different books interact, she writes in a way that enables you to read a good many of them as stand-alones, but why would you want to? Her characters are rich, real, and makes me wish I had a Trinity and Graciela, a Mira and Hana in my life.

https://governingana.wordpress.com/
Anastasia Vitsky’s blog has some delightful stories continuing more adventures of her characters. Did I mention they’re free :D ?
This is an author to keep an eye on. She’s the first f/f author I ever read, she writes in a way that makes me wonder why there are so many categories of books. A great fiction writer is a great fiction writer.
Anastasia Vitsky is a great fiction writer.

hi lovelies, I’ve been in a super-secret bunker trying something called a 2nd draft…but that’s a lame excuse for not writing here, on my girl scout’s honor, I pledge to do my duty and all that, aka writing here and there, here, and there….ok, i’m sorry, because I isually am about something, and remember, support local artists/writers/musicians/local, I just discovered today that there’s websites out there stealing people’s books and selling them at a discount price and that’s bullshit (NSFA!) so knock it off stealers, and buyers, don’t do that, because it’s wrong!
because

View all my reviews



musee3

She towers over me in all her glory, her breath fetid with a hint of dead flowers.
I feel each exhale slide over my flesh, leaving deep angry gashes seeping rivulets of blood.
I’m frozen in place, my body encased in an icy coating.
I notice as I shiver violently, tiny little cracks begin to weaken the ice, leaving me free to move. She paces back and forth, a stream of profanity falling out of her mouth, relentless.
I inch away slow, steady, quietly, hoping she won’t notice.
Of course it doesn’t work.
“There are rules missy,” she yanks my hair painfully as I crawl toward the front door.
“I don’t follow rules,” I spit the words out, along with several back teeth.
“You don’t need them anyway,” she sneers,”back teeth, not rules. Rules are meant to be broken, just like you.”
She looks me over like I’m dessert. It’s creepy how much she looks like my Muse and I have to keep reminding myself she’s not.
“I-”
“-always wanted that hollow cheekboned look, is that what you were about to say?”
She’s crouched in front of me, head cocked curiously.
“You’ve never been trained have you?” She snaps her fingers and a riding crop appears in her perfect hands.
“I don’t need to be trained, I’m not an animal.”
I push myself up to a kneeling position.
The jeans I was wearing have turned into fishnet stockings complete with garters and black spiked heels.
“Well you’re a miserable excuse for a human chica. I’d go with the pet label if I were you. You’re not so good with order-following but you will be when I get through with you.”
The handle of her riding crop trails along my spine and my body trembles involuntary.
This was usually the part where my Muse comes to my rescue, where the hell is she? I can fake my way out of pretty much any situation, but this one? This Evil Version of my Muse? She seems to know my every move long before I do.
If I wasn’t doubting my sanity before this, I sure as hell was now.
“Come now. Be a good little pet and get back to the parlor said the spider to the fly. We have an Apocalypse to monitor.”
In the blink of an eye I’m shackled to a straight-backed chair, hands behind my back, legs apart and unable to move.
I can speak though, she hasn’t gagged me this time.
“Where is my Muse? And my friends? What have you done with them?”
“Ha! Friends? How cute.”
Sarcasm drips heavy from every word she says.
“Now shut up and watch. Let’s see if you can write your way out of this, missy.” She draws out the last word, snakelike.
Griping my hair by the handful, she holds my head in place to make sure I’m watching the horror unfolding on my television.
The sight on the screen makes me scream loudly.
evil muse

AUTHORS NOTE : This is a snippet from my latest super-somewhat-secret WIP, because it’s Sunday…to be continued…



{April 10, 2015}   Breathe Again

breathe1

a little nudge
in any direction
something to push her,
over
under
any where
any time,
he runs the treadmill steady and sure
alone
unrelenting
he carries on,
the finish line worlds away,
once in awhile,
less and less often but
once in awhile,
he idles,
she revs,
recharged
revived
responsive
reminded

and they breathe again

breathe



{March 28, 2015}   Abduction ~ Muse Adventures

chairr

“Tie her hands tighter, she’s a sneaky one, she is. Thinks she can get out of anything. Make sure she can’t get away.”
“Hey! Wait a minute,” I said indignantly. “What the fuck is go-mmmmmmowww!!!”
“Gag her; the only time she shuts up is when she has something in her mouth.”
I thought the voices sounded vaguely familiar but couldn’t quite figure out who was talking. Whoever they were, they’d blindfolded me. They must be pro’s.

One minute I was sleeping the sleep of the depressed and exhausted, next thing I knew I was tied to a chair, couldn’t see a thing, and somebody had shoved something in my mouth so I couldn’t say a word.
I hate when I can’t say a word.
I also hate the taste of the washcloth somebody shoved in my mouth to shut me up. It tasted like soap.
Another voice spoke up. “Can’t we cut her some slack? She’s had a rough time lately; you know it could just as easily be one of us tied to that chair.”

I heard a deep male growl followed by yet another voice, this one female, whispering something to the growler about how they had to do this but they didn’t have to be so rough. I assumed she was talking about me.
I had no clue as to what was going on. It couldn’t be kidnapping because nobody I knew had money for ransom and besides, who would want to kidnap me anyway?

Maybe I was dreaming. Except the washcloth in my mouth and the restraints holding me down threw that theory out the window. I couldn’t even ask them what they wanted because whoever shoved the washcloth in my mouth decided duct tape was needed to keep it in place, my tongue was starting to hurt from trying to push it out of my mouth and I was doing my best to squirm my way out of the restraints.

“We’re not trying to hurt you,” another voice this time.
How many people were here?
“We just want to talk to you. And we want you to listen. If you promise to listen to what we have to say nod your head and we’ll take off the blindfold and get rid of that washcloth. But if you don’t let us have our say, it goes right back in, ok?”

Huh? Who were these people and what did they want with me?
Only one way to find out so I nodded my head and true to her word, the calm-voiced female took off my blindfold then took a step back. Maybe she wanted to gauge my reaction before she yanked off the duct tape.

Can’t say I blamed her when my eyes adjusted to the light and I saw I was surrounded by people I both knew and didn’t know. There was a familiarity in each pair of eyes watching my every non-move but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
I knew them, yet didn’t.

I sat still, my eyes taking in each and every one of them staring at me.
They stood around me, arms folded. I could feel the hostility in the air, mixed with disappointment and all of it aimed at me.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”
The woman speaking was so beautiful she was hard to look at. She seemed to glow but it was her eyes that bore into me, kaleidoscope eyes swirling with colors that had me mesmerized.
Dressed from head to toe in tight leather, she held a whip in her right hand, smacking it against the palm of her left hand.
When I didn’t answer she cracked the whip in the air coming dangerously close to my face.

“You do realize she can’t answer you till you take the gag out of her mouth,” said the large green man with the yellow cat-like eyes.
Leather-girl’s eyes flashed red at green man. The look of annoyance on her face rose to a level I’d never seen before.
She was scaring the hell out of me but I tried to keep calm and breathe.
Through my nose.

Green man and leather girl were now involved in a stare-off and if I had to guess, they were arguing silently.
Who were these people and what did they want with me?

As their silent argument continued my eyes took in the rest of the crowd surrounding me.

A tall thin woman with gorgeous red hair and flashing blue eyes stood next to two identical strapping hunks of men. One of them winked at me and flashed a grin revealing fangs. The redheaded beauty jabbed him in his side with her elbow.

There was a young boy, looked to be in his late teens wearing glasses that were obviously the wrong size.
He kept pushing them up the bridge of his nose, but I could barely see his face, his hair was unkempt and covered most of his features.
Standing next to him was another woman, by the looks of her she was young but her eyes made her look like she’d been through too much for any one person to handle.
Something about her stirred something inside me, made me want to comfort her which was kinda weird considering she was part of the kidnapping contingent.

Standing next to them was a tall statuesque woman; her hair flowed down her back in natural curls, an aura of goodness emanated from her and she looked at me with a mixture of kindness and disappointment.
What the hell did I do to her?
She was flanked by a dark dangerous looking man on one side and a dog with three heads on the other.
I wondered if somebody spiked my drink last night and I was hallucinating.

The arguing between leather girl and green man had slowly grown from silent to loud and louder until they were screaming at each other.
“Would you two knock it off?”
A woman I hadn’t noticed pushed her way through the crowd surrounding me and leaned into me. She looked oddly familiar and eerily like me but I couldn’t figure out how I knew her.
“Sorry doll, it’ll only hurt for a second.” With that she yanked the duct tape off my mouth and pulled the soapy washcloth out of my mouth.
“Oww!”
I couldn’t help it, duct tape hurts when it’s yanked off your face.

“See? I knew she couldn’t be trusted to keep her mouth shut! Give me the tape!”
Leather-girl snapped her fingers and held out her hand impatiently.
The other one, the one who looked like me rolled her eyes before she snapped at leather-girl.
“Would you shut up already?”
She turned back to me and missed the sneer on leather-girls face.
It would help if I knew their names.

“It would help if you gave us all names and stopped flat-leaving us. And by the way, I did too see that, eyes, the eyes in back of my head are the same as the eyes on the front of your face.”
My mouth was agape. Huh?

“Look babe, this is it. We’re fed up. You’re the one who created us.”
She stopped and looked around at the small crowd surrounding her. And me.
“Well, most of us.” She shook her head as if to clear her mind, the way I sometimes do.
“Anyway that’s not the point. Point is, you’ve been dilly dallying for way too long and you’re unfocused, which in turn, makes the rest of us unfocused.”
Leather-girl growled along with the, umm, vampire dude as kinda-me shushed them.
She turned back to me, finger lifting my chin till our eyes met. It was like looking in a mirror and seeing disappointment staring back at me. I can only assume my confusion was responsible for my uncharacteristic quietness.
Also, leather-girl was eyeing me up like I was an ice cream sundae.
I couldn’t decide if I loved her or feared her. Maybe both.

“Chica, you really need to get moving.”
Whatever she was about to say came to a full stop.
The jig was up.
Nobody calls me chica except my Muse. I’d slap my own stupid head if my hands weren’t bound.
It was them.
All of them.

My own characters kidnapped me.

compg
to be continued…
mymuse1<



{March 25, 2015}   Lost At Sea

aliceapplee

if i fall
would you catch me now
or take a step back
and watch me crash
splatter in bits,
bloody and worn
just the way you found me

if i stumble,
heart in my hand and
a little worse for wear
would you reach out
or pass me by,
a distorted reflection
in your rearview mirror

if I keep it all inside
messy emotions
twisted and tangled
would you pull me apart and unravel me
or would your fingers fumble
leaving me without a lifeline
as i float aimlessly
lost at sea
with no land in sight

lost-at-sea1



Seoul Spankings2_1800x2700

“Some people have the capacity to love, no matter what.”

Sometimes, if we are really lucky, we find an Author who reels us in from word one with such ease and expertise we are hooked for life.
Such is Anastasia Vitsky.
I was lucky enough to stumble onto Ms. Vitsky’s blog https://governingana.wordpress.com/ during Christmastime, my favorite time of the year, where I joined in the magical mayhem and joyous revelry of writers and readers coming together for a month-long celebration also known as Ana’s Advent Calendar. I’ve never known anything like it; so many talented authors/writers/bloggers/readers all together in the same place… let’s just say my Kindle loves Ana’s Advent Calendar as much as I do and we both end up happy and full of wonder, as we all should at Christmas.
And that, my friends, was when I became hooked.
But we aren’t here to talk about my introduction to wonderfully written books that included wooden spoons used for things other than cooking.
Because Anastasia Vitsky has not only one, but two books coming out this Wednesday, March 25th, 2015.
I am eagerly awaiting Wednesday. Like I said, hooked.
Here is a little bit of what we have to look forward to:
“I wanted a bride, a wedding, and a public relations opportunity to establish legitimacy as the soon-to-be owner of Han Incorporated. Instead, Madame Eve sent me a gauche schoolgirl.”

Seoul Spankings banner

“Good girls play nice. Kickass girls get even.”

Broken-hearted when her live-in boyfriend impregnates her best frenemy, Indigo Adams accepts a one-way ticket to Seoul, South Korea, and a challenge from her Great-Aunt Matilda: Forget that boy. Go and make something of yourself.
Bruised from an international public relations nightmare as the new heir to the multi-billion-dollar Han Incorporated, Hyunkyung Han seeks positive publicity in the form of a wedding. She consults with Madame Eve to find a nice, well-behaved Korean American with bilingual and bicultural skills.
Instead, Madame Eve sends Indi, a naïve philosophy major graduate working for minimum wage at the local pub. Enraged to find Indi can’t speak one word of Korean, Hyunkyung orders her sent home on the next plane to Spillville, Iowa.
Then Hyunkyung shakes Indi’s hand, and the sparks fly. With all of her professional responsibilities, how can Hyunkyung allow herself to fall for the wrong woman? How can Indi feel attraction for a woman who despises her?
Seoul Spankings offers a light-hearted romp through the perils and joys of navigating an intercultural romance. Certain to delight all fans of a happily ever after with a kinky twist.

Excerpt
“Say my name,” she demanded, startling me with her fierceness. Korean For Foreigners had told me saying someone’s name was rude. “Hee-yon,” I stammered, unable to form the alien syllables. “Huh—huh-yawn.” She pursed her lips, circling my chair. “Indi Go,” she enunciated, in the odd, separated manner seeming to order me from her presence. “Here I am not Ee Sajahng. I am Hyunkyung Han, and you will call me by name.” “Ee,” I faltered. Some of her employees had said something familiar. “Ee?” I grasped onto the only sound I could replicate. “Ee Sajahng,” she repeated. “Founder. Investor. A title, not a name. Call me Hyunkyung.” This time as she walked around me, her knee brushed against mine. A tiny gymnast vaulted somewhere underneath my ribs, and I spoke without thinking. “Can’t I say HK?” After all, her staff called me Miss Go. Why insult her by butchering the sounds I couldn’t form? She paused behind me, delaying long enough to highlight the ludicrous nature of my request. Yo, Barack ol’ buddy. I can call you BO, right? “Sorry,” I mumbled. “Americans are so familiar,” she said, in an undertone. “Koreans are so formal!” I protested. “Yes,” she answered, tapping one manicured finger against another. “Let’s show you how formal.”

“Kimchi tastes best when served with a side of spanking.”

Now, a little bit about Anastasia Vitsky:

Cookie queen, wooden spoon lady, and champion of carbs, Anastasia Vitsky specializes in F/F fiction. She hates shoes and is allergic to leather. When not writing about women who live spankily ever after, she coordinates reader and author events such as Spank or Treat, Love Spanks, and Sci Spanks. Her favorite event is Ana’s Advent Calendar, a month-long celebration of books, community, and making a difference.
She is too afraid to watch Doctor Who, but she adores The Good Wife and anything with Audrey Hepburn. In her next life, she will learn how to make the perfect pie crust. She can be found at governingana.wordpress.com and on twitter @AnastasiaVitsky.

“Revenge is awesome.”

Appearances
– Will be attending Rainbow Con and Golden Crown Literary Society in July 2015

Commonly Asked Questions
• What’s your book about? Seoul Spankings is about an Iowa farmgirl who overcomes heartbreak about her cheating boyfriend and finds new life and love in South Korea.
• Where did you get the idea for this book? I wrote Desire in Any Language several years ago about a girl who studies abroad in Korea, and the response was overwhelming. When I received the invitation to write for the 1Night Stand series, I wanted to return to Korea and pair a Korean woman with a naïve girl from Iowa.
• What traits and other tidbits do you share with your main character? Indigo is not much like me because I love to travel the world, learn new languages, and try new cuisines. However, I share her trusting nature and desire for everyone to get along. Plus, I think spanking is sexy and terrific.
• Did any of your inspiration for this book originate in your real life experiences? I spent some time in South Korea and fell in love with the country and people there. Writing books that take place there reminds me of some of the happiest years of my life. I am jealous of Indi’s good fortune and wish I could find a Hyunkyung of my own!
• Does your book take place in a specific region that would make people take an interest? South Korea is a vibrant, thriving country with five thousand years of history and culture. It boasts some of the most generous hospitality in the world, and its food offers rich delights including its famous kimchi (spicy fermented cabbage).
• Could an American girl survive and thrive in South Korea? It depends on the girl. Indi makes a terrible first impression by dressing inappropriately, expecting everyone to speak English, and assuming that US standards are universal. However, Hyunkyung is more than happy to teach her otherwise—often with a good spanking!
• Could two women have a public relationship in Korea? It’s a good question, but should we give homophobia more credence than it deserves? I dream of a world in which women’s love for each other is accepted as natural and beautiful. By writing a story in which sexuality is incidental and instead we focus on the growing love between the two main characters, I hope I can help make this dream come true. Won’t you join me?
•Do you have other project in the works? If so, what are they? I have more projects than time to finish them! I recently finished a short story, “Anchored,” that tells of a sixty-one-year-old retired librarian who moves to Florida and falls in love with the president of her homeowners’ association. It’s one of the first stories to show lesbian love at an older age, and beta readers have been thrilled to see themselves represented in romance.
I’m also working on sequels to Taliasman, Mistress on Her Knees, and a special project for Pride in June. Also, I have most of the sequel to Seoul Spankings planned out. There will be a few other projects for the summer and fall, including my first half-fairy, half-human story.

Social Media Links Website: https://governingana.wordpress.com/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/AnastasiaVitsky Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/anastasiapvitsky Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/anastasiavitsky/ Google+: https://plus.google.com/+AnastasiaVitsky Amazon Author Page: http://amazon.com/author/anastasiavitsky Goodreads Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6643486.Anastasia_Vitsky Authorgraph: http://www.authorgraph.com/authors/AnastasiaVitsky
Printable Book List: https://governingana.files.wordpress.com/2013/12/printable-book-list-for-anastasia-vitsky.pdf

ABOUT THE BOOK
Cover: https://governingana.files.wordpress.com/2015/03/seoul-spankings2_1300x2000.jpg?w=585&h=900 Book Title: Seoul Spankings Publisher: Decadent Publishing Company, LLC Date Published: March 25, 2015 ISBN: 978-1-61333-824-7
Genre(s): Contemporary Romance, Multicultural Romance, Interracial Romance, Bisexual Romance, GLBT Romance
Heat Rating: 4 flames – light BDSM and spanking elements with sexual scenes Page Count: 80
Buy Links Publisher: http://www.decadentpublishing.com/product_info.php?products_id=1079&osCsid=hs36vl91g930spnfethm43n5c4 All Romance: Not yet available Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Seoul-Spankings-1Night-Anastasia-Vitsky-ebook/dp/B00UKL5S8S/ Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Seoul-Spankings-1Night-Anastasia-Vitsky-ebook/dp/B00UKL5S8S/ Amazon Canada: http://www.amazon.ca/Seoul-Spankings-1Night-Anastasia-Vitsky-ebook/dp/B00UKL5S8S/ Amazon Germany: http://www.amazon.de/Seoul-Spankings-1Night-Stand-English-ebook/dp/B00UKL5S8S/ Barnes & Noble: Not yet available Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=2IYyBwAAQBAJ iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/seoul-spankings/id976825843?mt=11&ign-mpt=uo%3D4 Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/seoul-spankings
Book on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25188647-seoul-spankings?from_search=true

“No one says no to Han Hyunkyung, first daughter and heir to Han Chanwoo.”

Be sure not to miss this:
anabook



{March 21, 2015}   Enough Is Enough ~ A Semi-Rant

writer1

I’ve run out of excuses.
Yeah, I know, legitimate or not, excuses are just that, excuses. And they’re getting me nowhere fast.
I mean really, I’m resorting to clichés on top of it all. What’s up with that?

I am like the moon.

Not only do I go through phases but I’m also rather loony on occasion. See previous moon comparison, I’m a damn Cancer with an emotional rollercoaster attached to my feet and the very few who know me well enough know I hate the whole moon comparison. It’s a joke actually, only not so much with the funny these days.
I’m scatterbrained beyond belief lately and my brain has more holes in it than Alpine Lace Swiss Cheese. You know, the really tiny holes that lets the mustard seep out onto the bread making it soggy.

My brain is soggy.

My phone rings on an average day anywhere between 10 to 26 times, every single call from my Dad.
No rhyme nor reason, no certain time of the day or night, whenever the urge hits him, he calls me. Don’t get me wrong, I get it, he’s lonely since my Mom died and he’s a stubborn, rigid, sticks-to-his-ways 88 year old Navy Vet. He never knew his Father and doesn’t remember his Mother, she died when he was around 2 years old or so. He won’t really talk about his family or much of his childhood, although he frequently mentions that he was a twin but his twin brother died at birth. When he talks about it to me in the way he does, trying to make a joke out of everything, he tells me it’s his fault because he weighed more than his twin so he must have killed him.

I can’t imagine walking around with that thought in your head every day of your life.

He talks about how he was roller skating when Pearl Harbor was bombed and enlisted in the Navy the day he turned 17. He tells the same stories so many times I can repeat them myself. I don’t need more than one hand to count the amount of relatives who like him, but he’s my Father and that alone is reason enough to fall into his trap and pick up the phone every damn time.

My life would be so much easier if I could ignore him but I wasn’t raised that way. Plus I’m a Cancer and a middle child.

I have a memory of being taught to always hug and kiss my Parents when I left the house, and I never end/ended a phone conversation with either Mom or Dad without saying ‘I love you’. Although there was also a little bit of guilt manipulation when I neared my teenage years because what if something happened and we never saw each other again?
And they wondered why I cried until my Aunt Berta would call them to assure me they didn’t get in a car accident on the drive home when I’d sleep over my then-only girl cousin Chrissy’s house.

Huh, we’re all pretty much fucked up people, aren’t we?
Nah, we’re all just human I guess.

writing13

I don’t really have a point to this aimless babble, I think I’m tip-toeing my way back to writing consistently again. Publicly. Because I need something to shake me out of this endless winter – I mean really, a snowstorm on the first day of Spring?
Point: I should be writing. And not just about how I should be writing but really writing.
I have no one to blame but myself at this point, I need to establish a schedule and attempt to get my Dad to understand I can’t write when the phone keeps ringing .

writing12

C’mon me! Get your obsessive ass in gear and start re-obsessive writing!

Enough is enough.
NO MORE EXCUSES!

writingexcuse

This rant has been brought to you by Guilt-B-Gone.

guilty3



sickgirl8

“But I don’t have enough time to start it, never mind finish it!”
The whine in my voice has my cat looking at me like I’m a lunatic. Or a banshee.
A lunatic banshee.
My Muse, on the other hand, is totally not amused as evidenced by the look on her face.
“And I’m sick! Like, really sick!”
Of course she doesn’t say a word, which is worse than any words she could have thrown at me.
She arches an eyebrow, her red-stained mouth sterner than my fifth grade teacher’s ever was.
I recite a litany of all the reasons I haven’t been writing and they sound lame to even my ears.
She looks bored as I continue to babble.
After a good five minute diatribe justifying my legitimate reasons for not writing she pushes away from the wall she was leaning against and gets in my face.
“I. Don’t. Care.”
I open my mouth to answer her but she stops me with a slender finger to my parted lips.
“Shut it chica,” she knows I hate when she calls me that so I hear it a lot. “You said you were going to write, didn’t you?”
“I did but-”
“No buts,” she looks me over and smirks, like she knows something I don’t.
I’m sure she does.
“You can fuck around all you want missy, but not on my time!”
I know she’s pissed when she curses. I’m the one with the gutter mouth, not her.
She must be extremely pissed.
“Of all the wanna-be’s out there I wind up with you.”
She’s pacing now.
I blow my nose again.
“You’re making this whole Muse gig a drag chica. I’m a fucking Muse and you’re not doing a damn thing about it! I couldn’t get somebody with discipline, no, I have to get Little Miss Helps Alot, always serving somebody else’s master, in a manner of speaking,” she gives me a dirty look when I roll my eyes.
“Nothing is coming to you dipped in chocolate on a silver platter you know,” her voice was rising in volume.
My cat fled the room earlier. Lucky cat.
“I can’t do what I’m supposed to do if you won’t start doing what you’re supposed to do! You can’t fix everyone else’s life when you’re not paying attention to your own!”
Ouch.
She got me with that one. And I was also thinking about chocolate now.
“Enough!”
Frozen in place I know I’m in for something. She has a golden twinkle in her eyes I’ve never seen before but a lot has been going on under the surface, things I would have noticed if I paid more attention. Unfortunately for me, I always seem to find these things out too late. Again, my own fault.
“What did you promise Miss Ana?”
“I didn’t exactly promise, I said I was going to try-”
“Trying is for losers. You don’t “try”, you DO!”
“But I’ve never written anything like that before, what if I get it wrong? She’ll hate me and think I’m a lame loser.”
“How’s that’s any different from your normal bland self?”
She loves to throw my words back in my face. They don’t have to be exact, just in the same ballpark but damn, she hits a homerun every time.
“What part of ‘I have the flu’ don’t you understand?”
My scratchy voice sounds like there’s a clothespin on my nose and it disappears every other syllable or so. My voice, not my nose.
“You’re doing it again.”
Her voice vibrates through my fevered brain. She sounds psychedelic, like some old hippie movie from the ’60’s where pretty girls in see-thru dresses and long flowing hair danced barefoot in circles while contemplating the wonders of the universe during an acid trip.
“I’m sick,” my voice has that whining tone to it and it hurts even my ears.
“Don’t even try it missy.”
My Muse takes no bullshit from me, even when it’s not bullshit. I’ve been legitimately sick for way longer than I care to admit. I tend to hide my weaknesses and push on through whatever it is life throws at me best I can but I can’t fool my Muse.
She sees right through me. Which shouldn’t be that easy considering I’m in flannel pajamas shivering under a pile of thick comforters. I’m surrounded by tissues and bottles of Gatorade, both empty and full. I’m also hacking my lungs sore while my left nostril is racing my right nostril to see which side can run fastest. They’re pretty much tied.
“The only thing I’m ‘trying’ to do is stop being sick so I can get back to normal,” I snap.
She let out one of those deep throaty laughs that always manage to make me feel like I’m in for it.
‘It’ varies, depending on her mood.
“Normal, chica?” She stomps around the room, the click of her heels making me regret my love of hardwood floors. She has to know each time her foot hits the floor the sound vibrates through my head, amplified by 11. “You wouldn’t know normal if it bit you in your cute little ass.”
“There will be no biting of my ass!” I grumble through the pillow I’d yanked over my head.
“For now.” She grabs the pillow off my face and I struggle to get it back but she holds it just out of reach. The light hurts my eyes and I don’t want to see her dressed in my favorite red leather pants. Wasn’t she just wearing a nurse’s uniform? She makes my bedridden-self look ragged and pathetic with my greasy hair piled on top of my head in a stringy mess and my- “Hey! Those are my pants! Who said? Get those pants off!”
She gets that look on her face, one eyebrow arched, blue eyes sparkling and her red lip-sticked mouth pouty and wet.
“Now, sweetie? None of that right now. Aren’t you contagious?”
She reaches down, pressing her forehead to mine the way my Mother did when I was a little girl.
She clicks her tongue, plants her hands on her leather covered hips and releases a pitiful sigh.
“You’re no fun when you’re sick.”
I sneeze loudly. She doesn’t bless me.
She sinks onto the bed next to me looking almost concerned, but I know she’s disappointed in me. In an evil-muse sort of way.
I don’t get it. She’s my Muse with a capital M but she hasn’t been musing me lately. She’s been absent and I’ve been wordless.
“You’re sick chica, and I can’t believe I’m making excuses for you,” she huffs. “Once. Just this once I’ll give you a pass. But don’t get used to it!”
Six sneezes later I realize she’s gone again.
I need her.
Hate to say it but it’s true. I need my Muse and she’s not gonna be back until I start writing again on my own.
She may be my Muse, but neither one of us had to like it.
I sneezed a few more times and slowly fell asleep as it came to me that the only way I could beat her at her own game was to write before she came back, that would show her I don’t need her.
She was nothing but trouble plus she kept stealing my clothes.
I drift off to sleep to the sound of someone going through my walk in closet. I can still feel her hand on my face. Maybe she cares after-all.
~TO BE CONTINUED~
sickgirl



et cetera
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