Welcome to Townsville, Queensland, AU. A place of grand beauty. A place of fantastic adventure. A place where women lie to their younger siblings about having a date to their wedding because they refuse to spend their night with naught but champagne flutes and sadness! You’ve seen the blurb and you get the gist, no go enjoy the funny! Continue reading
If you’re not a friend or follower of mine on ye old social media, and only ever bother yourself to check my site and refresh my pages on various ebook outlets, (which is totally fine by the way, I’m a complete nut on Twitter) then you haven’t become privy to the news of my newest adventure in romance as of yet. Quite simply put I noticed a certain lack of diversity done by my own hands, an oversight I had a desired to fix after my extended break. I wanted to write black queer women falling in love. Healthy LGBT representation in romance isn’t always a priority; even less so for POC. It wasn’t a particularly hard decision. I write about lions & tigers & bears & dragons & gorgeous Iranian-American men who spank women over kitchen counters in the French Riviera (Hello, Kasper.) Continue reading
I won’t bore you with my greetings or usual silliness because if you’re reading this then it is more than likely you’re wondering where I disappeared to for the bottom half of 2017. It’s quite simple really–I was hiding under my bed. Listen, people, I have made it no secret that like many other writers & artists I battle with depression & anxiety. (They love me. I’m their favorite pudding face author) So it should come as no surprise that 2017 got really intense, really quickly for me. There are details that I shall not share because, hey, I am entitled to being crazy privately, but man oh man shit got reeeaaalll. The folks in my head with claws & fangs & magical abilities & huge bank accounts & star potential went so silent that the quiet was deafening and more than anything I needed their clamoring chatter to drown out the rest of the world. It did not come. I vacationed. I slept. I ate at many restaurants (yay for not being able to fit my favorite jeggings anymore!) I listened to music. I binge watched shows that I would fight you for insulting (see numerous tweets about Xena) And yet, it did not come. I wept. I prayed. I cuddled my dog. And yet, (you see where I’m going with this.) I had been abandoned by the beloved personas that kept me slightly more sane than my religious beliefs. It saddened me. Felt like a fall from grace. And the works that I had doled out before the crash of my word conquering? I wasn’t satisfied with them. I didn’t love them. I didn’t hate them. I was dispassionate. It bled over into so many other areas and a spiral began that I recognized as a lack of self-care. So I bowed out. I silenced myself on Facebook & Twitter and closed MS word. I decided I needed a break. I took one. There was a lot of healing to be done. There still is if I’m being completely honest. But allowing myself to breathe & think & be nonsensical brought a cacophony of sound echoing back into the dark fathomless cave that is my creative mind. And here I am. A little bruised but not damaged; a little bent but not broken. I have returned to deliver quality laughs given by quality content. I have releases in mind and a steely determination to see them done; to see my characters flourish once more. I am back. And I truly believe I’m better than ever.
–Nikki signing in.
We lost a legend just a few short weeks ago. I, like many, shared my despair to see a master of machismo, a sultan of shade, a conqueror of tunes say farewell to a world that never truly deserved the beauty that he was. This is my brief, hilarious–in my humble opinion–dedication that sums up precisely how I felt about a man that was truly never a man at all… Continue reading
So I wrote a contemporary story. A new contemporary story. A new contemporary story that starts a new series about a band that you’ve heard of before if you’ve paid attention to my previous contemporary stories. Whew. That was a mouthful eh? Let me save us both the trouble… Continue reading
Yes, I’m a day late, I know. Let’s all just save the criticism for the newfound love between October’s Very Own and the Queen of Tennis, eh? No? (sigh) Instead of yelling at Nikki, how about we read an excerpt of “Until the End of Time”? Unbeknownst to me, apparently quite a few of you have been waiting for the heavens to crack open and rain down a bit of Sansone once again. Well…anyone recall THIS blogpost from a few short months ago when I hinted that a favorite couple would be returning? You guessed it! Blackwell & Sultana are back again!
His Nyssa wasn’t that volatile. She was a thinker, slow in action, fast in reason. The first time that they had sat on the opposite side of that door had been different; very, very different…
“Luuucccy! I’m hooome!” Sansone called in the midst of pushing open the front door while attempting to balance an extremely hot paper bag full of Cuban food from a local eatery in one hand while the other held his leather work satchel. Luciano, his brother, kept referring to the bag as his purse. He’d taken said purse and beat the big bastard with it until he’d grown tired. Continue reading
So I may be writing an incredibly violent sociopath… wait… why am I stating that as though it’s a new thing? Fairly certain I’ve written violent sociopaths before right? (counts on fingers) There was that one Jericho brother. There was Nico–and man was he a dick. There was the asshole that shot Maddox–which really only served to piss me off because WTF? However, there’s a major difference between those sociopaths and this one in particular–he’s the hero. Well…sort of the hero. Maybe hero adjacent? Er…or not. You decide.
I had preconceived notions about what would take place between Nala and Simeon. Ideas that seemed simple enough. But as I’m finding out, nothing is ever as simple as I desire it to be…
“I’m not surprised,” he murmured from just over her shoulder.
Nala turned slightly, her eyes questioning. “About…?”
Simeon motioned to the painting with a nod of his head and padded closer, his bare feet making a barely perceptible sound on the cool, glossy hardwood of his studio’s floors. “That you were drawn to this. That you followed the breadcrumbs.”
She watched him for a moment. “Why?” Continue reading
Originally Mr. Ashleigh Thyne was supposed to be no more than two tons of comedic fun meant to hover in the background and tease Noel Haddon relentlessly about his obsession with Alana’s legs. It’s become abundantly clear that I should have known that wouldn’t work out as planned because it never works out as planned when I have a set character persona in mind. Two tons of comedic fun? Check. Quiet and storyless? Negative. The moment he opened his mouth I knew I was–for lack of a better term–screwed. Following the moniker I gifted him with, The Barbarian brutally raided my mind and wouldn’t leave me in peace. I spent time gas-lighting Janet about how he would have no tale but Jesus did he argue that point to no end. And so “Beauty & The Barbarian” was born. Generally when I create characters, I start from the name and build around it. Continue reading