Malicia Maestra (Masterful Malice in Spanish)

Cuando Alice recibe una petición de ayuda de una amiga de su hermana, ¿puede hacer algo para liberarla de las ataduras de un hombre sádico decidido a tenerla? ¿Y qué pasa con las ataduras que Kathy empieza a poner en el pequeño y frío corazón de Alice, cómo afectará esto al asesino en Alice….

Este es el QUINTO libro de la serie de libros ” MALICIA” sobre Alice, una asesina en serie con la misión de hacer justicia donde no se hace.

Disponible en mi sitio web.

Malicia Maliciosa (Malicious Malice in Spanish)

Alice está enfadada y quiere vengarse por la muerte de su hermana… ¡su amante lesbiana es su objetivo!

¿Cómo de enfadada debe estar una asesina psicópata? El homicidio justificado es un juego peligroso, pero Alice es una maestra. Alice está enfadada con su amante lesbiana y se venga de una forma única que promete exigir lo que necesita.

Disponible en mi sitio web.

Malicia Equivocada (Mistaken Malice in Spanish)

Cometer un error es algo que Alice no hace. ¿Puede lidiar con el hecho de que alguien podría no haber necesitado morir? ¿Puede lidiar con el hecho de que otra persona cometa un error fatal? A la arena de Alice llegan los senadores Cecilia y Ken Edwards, ¿el interés que ella ve es por su dinero, su poder o su cuerpo deseable? Perseguir esta “amistad” creará consecuencias que ninguno de ellos pretendía…

Disponible en mi sitio web.

Malicia Meticulosa (Meticulous Malice in Spanish)

Alice tiene una rutina que sólo sigue ella. Trata de no tenerla fuera de su casa, sin dejar nada al hábito que alguien pueda seguir… ¿la está siguiendo alguien?

El asesinato requiere técnica, requiere una planificación meticulosa, y un cuidado genuino si lo vas a hacer bien, ¿no? Los actos de violencia al azar no son el estilo de Alice, sin embargo, cuando la obligan, bueno, sigamos el juego…

Malicia meticulosa profundiza en quién es realmente Alice… juguemos con sus reglas…

Disponible en mi sitio web.

Malicia Misteriosa (Mysterious Malice in Spanish)

Al conocer a una misteriosa mujer en un bar, la vida de Deirdre está a punto de cambiar. Los abusos de su marido cesan repentinamente cuando esta mujer entra en sus vidas. ¿Qué quiere esta mujer a cambio de su ayuda?

Al descubrir los abusos que Deirdre ha estado sufriendo a manos de su apuesto y poderoso marido, ¿qué puede hacer una mujer menuda como Alice para ayudarla a salir de una mala situación? ¿Qué querrá ella a cambio de esa ayuda?

Disponible en mi sitio web.

Vita con la veterinaria (Vetted in Italian)

Una studentessa infelice incontra una veterinaria che le cambia la vita.


Allyssa è una giovane universitaria che vive la sua vita per fare contenta la sua famiglia della buona società che vuole che segua corsi di economia, vada a lavorare con il padre e sposi “l’uomo giusto”. Ma lei ama gli animali e anela a sseguire dei corsi che parlino al suo cuore, ma la famiglia non la ascolta e lei non riesce a farsi valere.

Fiona è una donna più anziana, più posata, una veterinaria che lavora con lo scopo di aprire la sua clinica per grandi aminali. Quando una sera una  giovane arriva alla soglia del suo studio portando un cane che potrebbe aver quasi ucciso con l’auto, Fiona entra in una spirale.

Vita con la veterinaria – una vita che nessuna delle due avrebbe mai immaginato, ma che entrambe si rendono conto di volere disperatamente.

Le famiglie, il fato e i ladri di bestiame spezzeranno queste donne?  L’unico modo che hanno per sopravvivere è stare assieme e diventare sempre più forti, ma sono pronte a lottare per quello che vogliono? L’avvventura è cominciata.

Disponibile sul mio sito web

Bodice Rippers

You know the cover, the kind that titillates, causes envy (because you wanted to be her, maybe), she’s being ravaged…they were all over the place in the ’80s and ’90s from what I remember. I know, I collected Johanna Lindsey’s as seen here. Fabio was the man of choice for a lot of hers as well as other lustful scenes:

There is NOTHING wrong with this, in fact, I noticed that some of these authors have changed their covers to be more boring. No more blatant sexuality. It probably wasn’t their choice since they are under contract with big publishers, but still, some of the newer covers are beyond boring, they are uninteresting and not something I would want on any book!

Let’s face it, sex sells. It captures your attention, shocks you, entices you into reading it.

Even the gay community has it, you know, bare chest, pants so tight you can tell their religion? Their junk clearly outlined. Here is a tasteful one at least:

This is NOTHING against ANY of these authors. I think it a good marketing ploy because there are so many authors out there, unfortunately competing for the reader’s attention. If you have a great cover, that hurdle is considerably lower, and then you draw them in by your fantastically written book…maybe.

Last week I got two emails from Amazon stating they would no longer be promoting my book Doctored because of its cover.

Now, they keep moving the bar, changing the rules, etc so that you can’t comply, even if for years you had been complying. It’s a form of censorship that while I understand the principles, are they across the board with their rules? Are they telling everyone this? Including the hetero authors with their bodice rippers? That’s where the phrase came from after all, not from lesbian fiction. Are they also telling the men’s books with their barely-there clothing on both the men and the women? How about those who write gay fiction?

I know, for a fact that Facebook isn’t fair about it. They made me cover up the cover for Small Town Angel I had on an ad there (see ribbon below) before they would even allow the ad (I also suspect they didn’t really promote, but were more than willing to take my money, that however is a blog for another time). However, they do let hetero covers, such as bodice rippers on the site, I know, I’ve seen Harlequin Romance, Penguin, and the others do it. Oh wait, they are big publishers and their money is much better than a lowly independently published author. It’s not fair in any shape, manner, or form. What’s next? Book burning? Oh wait, we’re already there!

Look out world, I’m not going to stop with my lovely and attractive as well as tasteful covers.

Please take a moment and go to my website and buy it there, it cuts out the middleman such as Amazon and their prudish sensibilities.

I’d love to hear your opinions on this subject and please, feel free to share it with other authors and readers so they can chime in.

Today would have been my mother’s 93rd birthday

My mother was born March 10, 1929. How weird to be able to be back in the 20’s! In that momentous year, the stock market also crashed, starting The Depression which lasted years. My mother grew up during that time. I think her stories of that time and her thriftiness affected me more than I knew.

When I wrote my book: The Journey Home, I felt I had been there, during The Depression. Some of the things happening in Hawaii I based on the stories of my aunt who had been stationed there as a nurse. The main characters though were no one that I knew and completely a fabrication of my mind. Something about that era though speaks to me and I have many books I’d like to write about that time period.

Mom used to talk about growing up in those years. She was a baby born well after her parents had thought they would have any more children. Grandma claimed she wasn’t an oops-baby, but I have my doubts. Her sister was eleven years older and told her later in life that she had never liked her (nice eh?), in fact, she had resented having to take care of her as the big sister, even hated her at times. Her brothers were nine and seven years older. So, by the time my mother got to high school, they went off to World War II. By the time they came home, expecting to see their little sister, she had all grown up. They didn’t like it in the least.

My grandmother was a farm girl, now living in the big city. The Milwaukee suburb of Wauwatosa. Now, when I saw the areas where my mother hung out it was much better than the stories she told. The old houses quite fashionable, upscale, and the wealth of the area obvious. My mother was friends with the mayor’s daughter and my grandmother made all her clothes. She was quite the fashionable young woman, despite the fact that they had no money. Grandpa was a professional painter and supported the family that way.

My mother though, she was something special. I always thought of her as a debutante without the coming out ball. She had taste, sophistication, and class. How she ended up with my naturalist father no one could fathom. She said she found him fascinating. He was very intelligent but no common sense. My mother had common sense in spades and I think she passed that on to me (at least I hope). There really is nothing common about common sense. Her intelligence though was something I always took for granted until I got older.

When I was eighteen and halfway through my private college, Mom decided to move to California after her divorce from my father. She asked if I wanted to go with her and as the last few years had been rocky between us, I felt I didn’t really know her (teen years and family drama), I said yeah, quit college, and packed up. Over the next few years, I really got not only to know her, but she became my best friend. Later, as I started up the first of several businesses, she helped me, she also became my co-parent when my own marriage failed.

I remember being at a trade show with her and she was taking an order. The guy insisted on speaking to the owner and she directed him to me. He looked from her fifty-something-year-old self to my twenty-something-year-old self and thought she was pulling something over on him. At twenty-seven I looked about seventeen. I smiled brightly though and my knowledge of my product and what he needed couldn’t be discounted. He became a customer. I loved that moment, she was so proud of me. She was my best friend and my greatest champion.

During the seventeen years we lived together (we had bought a house together when I was nineteen, she had the down-payment and we both made the payments until later I paid the whole thing) and those later years when I got another house and we lived together part-time, Mom got cancer three times.

The first time was with her thyroid and she ended up on Synthroid. Ironically, my first bout with cancer cost me my thyroid because of the radiation therapy and I am now on Synthroid for the rest of my life.

Her second bout with cancer was colon cancer, the kind that is usually fatal. Fortunately, they found it early and did radical surgery (which I don’t think was as necessary to be that invasive) and she hated the results for the rest of her life. Still, she was still here to tell the tale (something I frequently say).

Unfortunately, Mom’s third bout with cancer was brain cancer. This was why when I flirted with that idea with my own tumor these past months, I was panicking. I even asked the doctor, is it possible that something like that is inherited? It isn’t. Mom decided not to tell anyone that she had cancer and by the time I realized something was wrong, it was far too late.

Fortunately, I had a good relationship with her, she spent plenty of time with my sons, and they have fond memories of her as do I.

About a year or two before she died in 2001 we went to Glamour Shots. Originally it was just going to be me and the boys but at the last minute she impulsively came along and I’m so glad she did. We got these gorgeous pictures together and apart and the only formal ones I have of her later in life. For Xmas that year I sent copies to all my siblings and her brothers. Her sister had died many years before from cancer.

Cancer is a terrible thing, especially when it runs in families. I’m lucky, I’ve survived having it and almost having it again (we’ll be watching that). To this day I miss my mom and here on what would have been her ninety-third birthday wish for her sage advice and gentle humor.

I still feel her now and again and have smelt her perfume when there was no reason to be smelling it in my home. She was never physically here and it’s comforting to ‘feel’ her from time to time, knowing she is checking in on me.

Happy Birthday Mom ~ wherever you may be.

Benign

On Monday I’d had enough. I called Madison and told them it was cruel to keep me waiting ANYmore as Tuesday meant fourteen days since my surgery with their damned biopsy. I made calls to Madison, to Wausau, and all I got were, “We’ll pass on your message and get back to you” back. How frustrating!

Then, in the afternoon the surgeon called me. Now this chick who looks to be about 26 and drilled into my brain, she sounds even younger. She was in a good mood as she told me the news that the mass was benign. There was a caveat though.

Your body has finite rules on some types of illness. Certain things cannot be in certain areas. That is why the results of my tests took longer, they didn’t make sense. I have a mass, and the type of tumor where it has no business being. The doctor assured me, they had NEVER heard of something like this. She said she KNEW I was unusual, we both laughed at this, but even this, this was odd. I have what is called a Schwannoma.

Schwannoma is a rare type of tumor that forms in the nervous system. Schwannoma grows from cells called Schwann cells. Schwann cells protect and support the nerve cells of the nervous system. Schwannoma tumors are often benign, which means they are not cancer. But, in rare cases, they can become cancerous.

When I heard the word Schwann’s, I pictured that company here in the USA that delivers food and has a swan as it’s logo. My sense of humor won’t let that one go.

Now, these schwannomas do NOT form in the brain…EVER. As a result, they are, from a scientific point of view, VERY interested in this one. So, we are going to keep a watch on it. For the first year I have to have an MRI every three months and then next year every six, and then maybe once a year. I’m fine with that. She rated it on a scale of 1-4 (4 being its worst) a 1 and it really sounds interesting from my curious mind. We will just see if it grows or presses on anything.

So that begs the question, how is it in my brain and where did it come from? The doctor says she believes a few cells were misplaced into my brain when I was forming as a baby inside my mother’s womb. They lay there dormant almost my whole life. They were probably not seen in the open MRIs I have had in the past and as no one was looking for a mass in my brain, not even looked for. These couple of cells that had formed into the mass would not have been discovered if I hadn’t had a reaction to the third vaccine for Covid that I had in December. That reaction led to an MRI that showed the mass, which triggered all of this. Happy 2022.

Once the after-effects of the surgery and the meds wear off, I hope to return to a type of normal I miss, writing again. Fortunately I can stop taking the anti-seizure meds as it’s been two weeks and I’ve had no seizures. Good, no more dizziness or wonky feelings. I’m still on antibiotics for the infections. Tomorrow I get the staples out, YAY.

Now, onto the science and art of living. And, she lived happily ever after.

And a little more health…

On Tuesday, February 22, 2022, I had to return to the Emergency Room. I had eaten that morning and it felt like my distended stomach (the meds were making me swollen from neck to toes it felt, I had edema in my legs too) was pushing into my lungs (which also felt like rocks were in the bottom) and I was in pain.

After my last experience in the ER the previous week, I wasn’t looking forward to this one either, but, the doctors office told me not to even bother coming into emergent care or the ‘walk in’ as they would just send me to the ER. Also, Madison had ordered a cat scan, were worried about me developing an embolism, and really, to me, that didn’t sound too appealing either!

I was determined to listen to the medical professionals. I’m not ALWAYS contrary to sound advice, I do question things, because I’m curious and wish to be informed. Funny side note, when I told the PA (Physicians Assistant) that my kidneys hurt, she asked if I actually knew where they were located because some patients really didn’t know. I knew, lol. Not only my kidneys hurt though, my stomach, which is still bloated, was pressing on my lungs. My other pains included my heart, chest, lungs, and probably a few things in my stomach. She ordered a pretty extensive workup (I didn’t realize). I did suffer through the cat scan, my arm hurting when I had to extend them over my head. Again that damn contrast crap.

I lay in that room for hours, refusing television (which I don’t watch and haven’t for over a decade). Thinking though, fantasizing about plans I’d LIKE to make. I took a ‘trip’ in my mind.

I also wondered about the P.A. who was taking care of me. She was cute as a button and to my fevered mind was flirting with me. Alas, I found out from a friend who worked there that she was happily married and had children. Ah well.

They found that none of my internal organs were damaged (thank goodness). The pains I was experiencing were probably from the meds I were on. I had a lot of infections which they narrowed down to a UTI (Urinary Tract Infection) which actually covers more than that area, weird. The pain shifted from across my breasts and chest to the left side which seemed to relieve them.

The edema I have to live with, putting my legs up above my heart whenever possible so the fluids drain properly. I didn’t realize that edema could go up above your knee, hell, above your legs. I was swollen not only in my legs, but around my crotch area, my stomach, and up to my neck! A lot of that is due to the medications. Thank goodness they were running out. The one I didn’t like the most was the anti-seizure medicine. It made me woozy and a little nauseous. I really hate the dancing around the edges of my vision.

One odd but good thing about all this is that my blood pressure, which had been high since I got Covid in 2020 has finally gone back to normal, yay!

After four years, um hours and being patient (stop laughing, I can do it), they sent me home with antibiotics. Now, to just wait on the prognosis from the biopsy. They said a week to 10 days. It’s beyond that and I think a bit cruel to make wait beyond that week to 10 days!