A Beginning and an End

By Ginger Simpson (Guest Blogger)

My debut/swan song Erotica is available in ebook on Amazon. Why, you ask, is Beaches a beginning and an end? I discovered while writing the book, I’m a prude. I have very little life experience to draw from, and my bedroom imagination has faded with age.

It’s true, most authors, draw from their own lives to make stories come alive. Believe me, no one wants to read about my life. Any moans and groans coming from the bedroom these days are usually caused my hip, knee or back pain. Hubby and I enjoy “hall sex.” Like the joke says, as we pass in the hallway, we say “screw you.” It’s easier on the body and a lot less demanding. lol

Even though I’ve written many genres, Beaches was the most difficult for me. I mean, how many ways can you describe genitalia without being repetitive? I’m more a “behind the door” writer. I like to lead up to the scene, but leave the reader to imagine what happens then. Writing erotic novels requires you to be very descriptive and thorough, and for a prude, that’s difficult to do. I managed, and I must admit, I left myself needing a few cold showers. So, blushingly, I share the following excerpt from Beaches with you. Enjoy!

Katie Franklins shredded a paper napkin and tossed the remnants on the kitchen table. Her best friend, Irene sat across from her and let Katie rant. She needed a good listener right now.

The mess she’d made on the table reminded her of her life—in bits and pieces. Staring into the cup of coffee in front of her, she shook her head at her reflection. “I’m a married woman. I have to end this affair!”

The words replayed in her mind until she wanted to tear her hair out.

Her shoulders sagged but she looked at Irene, seeking an answer. “How did I get into such a predicament? Falling in love with one man while still married to another? Honestly? My body’s sensual needs must have possessed my subconscious mind and made me commit this sinful deed. What do I do?”

Male attention was the magnet that drew her to Joey, and now she couldn’t imagine life without him. At twenty-eight, attracting a twenty-five-year-old flattered her. His smile, his broad shoulders…everything about him stirred passion she hadn’t felt in ages. She never intended to fall into bed with him; the attraction was just too much. Being near him blurred her reasoning.

Irene, like a trained counselor, offered no solution, instead let Katie work through her own issues.

“Joey makes me feel sensuous and alive…so unlike the relationship between me and Rick. With Joey, I discovered my lost confidence and found desire again. But is it real? Seven years ago Rick looked at me with the same accepting love in his eyes. How did our marriage go so wrong?”

She flashed back to earlier days…when Rick’s touch ignited a fire within her soul. “You know, Irene, there was a time when I actually waited for Rick to come home…wanting to taste his kisses and feel his hands on my body, but something happened after Brandon was born. The passion just dwindled away.”

Wasn’t having a child supposed to bring people closer together…make them a family? A baby sure hadn’t worked any magic in their home. In fact, her pregnancy ended any intimacy she and Rick shared. Oh, they still had sex, but other than physical release, they shared nothing with one another. Katie lowered her head into her palms and heaved a sigh.

“Maybe if I’d lost the baby weight sooner, I never would have gone with you to Beaches. What if…oh hell, no matter what scenario I apply to my predicament, nothing changes. Should a few extra pounds matter if you truly love someone?”

Katie closed her eyes and shuddered, the frustration becoming more than she could bear. “Why can’t Rick see I’m the same person I’ve always been. Even when I was heavier, I had the same heart, feelings and needs… I didn’t really change, but he did. His endless cruel puns got to me…turned our marriage sour and made me doubt my feeling for him. He drove me right into Joey’s arms…didn’t he?”

Irene shrugged.

Katie took a sip of cold coffee and then released a loud breath. “It’s taken me several months, but now I’m back to what I weighed before I got pregnant. What I don’t understand is Rick’s sudden renewed interest in me.”

She fisted her hands and pounded on the table, sloshing her decaf over the cup’s side. “How can I forget all the terrible things he said or forgive how degraded he made me feel. Am I wrong to hold onto the hurt?”

Irene picked up her cup and blew away the steam. Her gaze focused on Katie. “Do you blame me?”

“No…” She shook her head. “No way. You didn’t hold a gun to my head and make me go with you. We just happened to be in Beaches the same night Joey was there. That’s not your fault. Still, I can’t stop fantasizing about him, but do I even have the right?” Tension pounded in her temples. She never expected things to become so confusing. Was it fate or luck that drew her to her lover? Was he just a passing fancy or was he the reason to end her marriage?

Katie rose from the table and poured her remaining coffee down the sink. She used what was left of the napkin to mop up her spill then threw the wadded paper into the garbage.

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and stared out the window over the sink. The gray clouds scudding by defined her mood. “No matter how I look at things, I’m still married and what I’m doing is wrong. Even if Rick’s touch leaves me cold, and his sexual innuendos do nothing to entice me, he’s still my husband. You know, I actually dread his coming home from work, and especially, bedtime. He won’t take no for an answer no matter how much I protest.”

Tears she’d successfully restrained all morning trickled down her cheeks like the rain pinging against the windowpane. One way or another, she needed to make a decision, and soon.

****

Beaches is available on Amazon at: http://amzn.com/B00J573RZE

All my other books can be viewed on my amazon page: http://www.amazon.com/author/gingersimpson

My thanks to Lisabet for allowing a prude on her page today. She’s such a prolific and awesome author, and a wonderful friend.

About Ginger

Ginger Simpson grew up reading anything by Laura Ingalls Wilder and became so fascinated with western historical novels, they've remained her favorite for more years than she cares to admit.

In 2002, Ginger decided to attempt writing her own novel, and in 2003 her first offering, Prairie Peace, was published. Since then, she's dabbled in other genres but always seems to migrate back to her favorite historical era. As all authors continue to learn through the process, so has Ginger, and her debut novel has been recently released with a new cover and title, Destiny's Bride.

At the beginning, Ginger accepted contracts with e-publishers with the realization her work would not be offered in actual stores, rather made available for sale by download or ordering through Internet sites. At the time, the reward of acceptance was enough, and the prayer that downloadable books would grow in popularity seems to have come to pass. Ginger admits she's no spring chicken, and her final goal is to see at least one of her works available in an actual "brick and mortar" store just so she can nod when someone asks if Walmart sells her books.

She's often joked that she may have to sneak a book into Walmart and leave it on the shelf next to one of Nora Robert's novels, but that's not really how she'd like her next novel to get there. Besides, there's probably a law that prohibits such a deed. She's already worked in a jail, so she doesn't care to experience the other side of the bars. Note from Ginger (2011): I actually did "sneak" a book into Walmart and take a picture of it on the "best sellers" shelf. I have the photo to prove it. I got a few weird looks from nearby people, but I didn't get arrested or escorted from the store. *smile*)

SPICE up your life with GINGER

Ginger Simpson @mizging

http://www.gingersimpson.com

http://mizging.blogspot.com

http://cowboykisses.blogspot.com

Betrayed by Ginger Simpson

[My Monday sneak peek is Betrayed by Ginger Simpson - a dear friend and one of the most skillful storytellers I know. Enjoy! ~ Lisabet]

Note from the author:  Betrayed is based on a true-story and delivers a message that everyone can benefit from.  This is NOT a romance, rather a relationship story, and the explanation at the end of the book will clear any questions you might have.  I hope you enjoy my book, and given the fact that my computer crashed, I had to redo the manuscript on Text Edit, transfer to Word Perfect and then transmit as a Word document, I hope you'll overlook any errors you may find.

Blurb

The advertisement claimed: "Find your true love; we'll match you with the person of your dreams." Their irritating spam clogged her computer inbox. "Free tonight? Let’s chat." Cassie Fremont thought of hitting the 'trash' button, but the promises were alluring. Divorced and so lonely, Cassie signs up for the on-line dating service. What she doesn't know is the cost of the ticket for her ride on the romantic roller coaster from hell. You aren't the first woman he's lied to. When Cassie's siblings present her with evidence, insisting this proves her new beau is a con-man, her world is shattered. Her happiness wanes. How can she possibly believe that this wonderful man who gave up a thriving business in Texas and moved to California to be with her isn't all he professes to be? The love she sees shining in Evan's eyes can't be false. Surely, her siblings are mistaken. Still, the warnings of her sister's haunt Cassie's thoughts: There have been others who have lost everything because of him. Faced with an ultimatum, Cassie must choose between her family and Evan.

Excerpt

Cassie lay next to Evan and gazed at the ceiling. His heavy breathing slowed as hers did. The feel of his caresses still lingered on her breasts, while her nether region finally relaxed from the orgasmic contractions. His lovemaking satisfied her soul.

Rolling to face him, Cassie twined her fingers through the soft fur matting his chest and nestled her head on his shoulder. Her cheek adhered to his damp skin. His eyes closed beneath a brow beaded with sweat.

"Hey, cowboy, are you going to fall asleep on me?"

"Hmmm," he murmured.  "You sapped me dry."

She chuckled and rolled away.  "Well then, I'm going to take a shower."

He reeled her back.  "Would you like some company?"

"Sure, c'mon." Cassie scrambled off the bed, but old-fashioned modesty deemed she wrap her bathrobe around her nudity before she hurried into the bathroom.

As soon as the water warmed, Cassie stepped inside. Evan slid open the door, and she moved aside to give him room. He entered and ducked his head beneath the shower head, letting the water trickle down his face. His handsome profile renewed her internal warmth, and she thanked her lucky stars she'd taken a chance on joining a dating site.

She rubbed the soap between her palms until bubbles formed, then lathered Evan's broad back. His muscles contracted beneath her touch, and he moaned.  "Ohhh, that feels almost as good as sex."

"Well, now it's your turn." She handed him the bar.  "One good back wash deserves another."

He batted water from his lashes and grinned.  "I'd much rather wash your front."

Despite the heat rising in her cheeks, her checked emotions renewed. A moment ago, she'd been spent, but now she craved his touch, his kiss. Warm water drizzling between their molded bodies further ignited her passion. Rivulets ran between her breasts and trickled down her stomach. He lapped the liquid from her chest, teasing her nipples and splaying his fingers through her pubic hair. Despite her attempt to foster his arousal by grinding against his hand and kissing his ear, evidence of his renewed desire didn't develop.

Evan pulled away, his eyes dulled with an apologetic look. "I guess I already gave you my all."

She understood and nuzzled his neck.  "Don't feel bad, sweetheart. I think we both expected too much, considering we just had fantastic sex in the bedroom."

"But, I don't want to disappoint you."

"Y-you..."

Evan stole the words from her mouth by dropping to his knees. She threw her head back and held her breath as he sought the bud of her womanhood and found it. With lips firmly latched, he suckled the strength from her, turning her legs so weak they barely supported her weight. She clung to the walls until her trembling body could stand unaided.

Evan rose and pushed his sodden hair out of his eyes. A 'Cheshire cat' smile appeared on his face. "How about ordering a pizza? I'm starved."

While Evan dried off, she soaped herself and rinsed. Stepping from the shower, she stood on legs still wobbly from Evan's oral ministrations, and peered into the mirror. Her reflection resembled that of a drowned rat, but her complexion sparkled with an afterglow caused only by sex. She suppressed a chuckle at Evan's ability to move from an extremely romantic moment to a sudden desire for pizza. He was quite a guy - in more ways than one.

"Based on the true story of the author's sister, this novel builds tension as it goes. It grips the reader and throws them into a whirlwind of emotion from anger to joy and everything in between. It is a powerful book of vulnerability and strength, family loyalty versus true love. A must read for every woman." ~ Mirella Patzer, Historical Author

"I found this to be an engaging story and the characters very believable. In this high tech age we need a reminder that not everybody is good and decent and we need to have our guard up in the faceless world of the internet." ~ Carol Langstroth, Mind Fog Reviews

 

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00GXKW7OI

For more about Ginger, visit her at http://www.gingersimpson.com and check out her books at http://www.amazon.com/author/gingersimpson.

St. Paddy's Day

By Ginger Simpson (Guest Blogger)

I guess because I'm not Irish, I don't see a need to get all giddy over a day when folks drink Green Beer and wear shamrocks. Forty-Five years ago today, March 17th was to become an entirely different reason to celebrate--the due date of my first child.

Now that I look back on the occasion, I suppose I shouldn't have been disappointed when he didn't show up. He's been full of surprises from the moment he was born on April 18th. Yes, a month and a day LATE. I safely say "late" since doctors predicted an early arrival when I went for my check ups in January and February. I swear if one more person had asked, "Are you still pregnant," I would have been convicted of murder.

Scott, or Skid, as he prefers to call himself, always marched to his own drummer. Unusually smart as a toddler, and very normal-looking, I had no idea I had mothered the first punk-rocker who'd live in a red-neck town. While everyone else wore cowboy boots and drove four-wheel drive vehicles (yes even then), my son wore mis-matching Van's tennis shoes, spiked his hair, and became an airport security system's nightmare by holding his clothes together with as many safety pins as he could find. Although he promised if I let him get his earlobe pierced, he'd only wear a small stud, I'm pretty sure if he could have held up the weight of the toilet seat, I would have seen that it in his ear.

Kids do grow out of phases, though, I'm pleased to say. I have to admit I wanted to slap Scott when he asked, "Why'd you let me dress like that?" I don't know if he's referring to the time he wore a kilt with pink high tops, dressed in a god-awful outfit from the thrift store for his prom and blew chartreuse bubbles during the photo session, or any of the many times he dyed his hair a rainbow of colors. I painfully admit, as his mother, I often pretended not to be when I heard others talking about that weird punk-rock kid they saw on the street. I just nodded and kept my mouth shut. In retrospect, I realize how much courage my son has. He's an amazing man.

Still, I can't believe I'm going to be the mother of such an old child. AKKK. How can he be turning forty-five when I'm just a tad older myself? One of my very first, very short, publications, Life Is a Bowl of Toilets and I Clean Them, is sort of a tribute to my children and the reason for my gray hair. I'm mentioning it, not suggesting you pay the ridiculous price the publisher is asking for a fifty-page book.

Thanks to Lisabet for allowing me to post on her blog today. Although this isn't nearly as sexy as the stuff she writes, I had sex to create the topic today. *lol* Please stop by and visit my blogs, Dishin' It Out and Cowboy Kisses. I'd love to hear from you.

You're Never Too Old for Romance

By Ginger Simpson (Guest Blogger)

Stories come from so many places. Usually, mine develop from a character who shows up in my head with a tale to tell, and most of the time, accompanied by a title and an entire roster of cast mates. However, my latest release from Muse It Up Publishing came from someone else.

My high school friend, Caryl, and I reconnected several years ago…in a mall of all places. We’ve kept our friendship alive with emails, Facebook posts, and phone calls, and enjoy sharing out lives’ happenstance with one another.

On one particular night, Caryl, who is single and has been for a number of years, called and shared her excitement at meeting a handsome older man in a shoe store. Since it hadn’t been that long since my divorce and remarriage, I remembered how we old gals can still get butterflies. While men can chase younger women, if we dare look at someone our junior, we suddenly become cougars. Trust me, if I wasn’t married and looked a little more alluring, I’d choose being a cougar over fishing in life’s throwback pond. I’ve already been there, done that, and I’m so fortunate that out of all the castaways, I happened to find one that is a treasure. His ex was a dope, or my last nerve he’s hanging on is a lot stronger than any she had, but I digress as usual.

That night, an idea for a story came to me, but not from a character, but from my friendship with Caryl. I imagined how she felt, meeting someone who might turn out to be more than a friend. I used my emotions with her story, and of course, the title, Just The Right Fit, materialized and is most appropriate. There aren’t a lot of romance stories out there with older heroines, but this is my second. Luckily, Muse It Up Publishing had just opened their “Persephone” line, which calls for a more mature leading lady, so… I’m not sure why Persephone, the goddess of the underworld who is usually depicted as a young goddess holding grain sheafs and a flaming torch, is appropriate for stories about older broads, but I’m not asking.

So now that you know the story behind the story, I’ll thank Lisabet for allowing me to visit on her blog today and share a sample. Hope you enjoy:

Blurb:

When Carolyn Sloane walks into her favorite shoe store, she’s pleased to see the display isn’t limited to sandals and pumps. The new, handsome salesman is a tantalizing addition for an older, single woman, and she’s bound and determined to catch his eye. Is he divorced, married, gay? Carolyn wants something besides a pair of shoes, but who’s the woman he’s escorting from the back room, and why does he have his arm so snugly around her waist?

Excerpt:

“May I help you?” The timbre of his voice matched the broadness of his shoulders and made her jump. His tall silhouette blocked the light filtering through the front window, and her dipped chin seemed frozen in place.

She forced her head up. “Y-es, I-I…” The words she sought lodged behind a lump in her throat.

“I assume you’re holding the shoe you’re interested in.” His smile dimpled his cheeks and displayed white, even teeth. An air of charisma hung about him while she felt caught up in a bubble of ridiculousness.

She forced a smile and with trembling fingers, handed him the shoe. “Yes, size seven please.”

Why in the world did this man have such an effect on her? Could the draw be the splashes of gray at his temples? It couldn’t be the slight limp she detected when he walked through the curtain to the storeroom. But there was something—definitely something. She thrummed her fingertips on the chair’s arm and fidgeted in her seat, waiting for his return—almost dreading the feelings he stirred and unsure how to handle them.

“Here we go.” He appeared through the split material in the doorway with a beige box bearing the familiar logo of the footwear she’d learned to love. With one hand, he hiked up his khaki slacks before kneeling in front of her. He removed her left shoe, his grasp warming her heel when he slipped off her worn pump.

The personal service kept her coming back to the store. Almost no one waited on customers anymore—especially clerks this yummy. She fanned her fingers across her heated face and fixed her gaze on the top of his head, noting he still had plenty of dark brown hair—not even a bald spot. The man was definitely eye candy, and she wasn’t on a diet.

While he slipped on the other walking shoe and tied the laces, Carolyn searched his left hand for a wedding band. His naked finger caused a little squeal to bubble in her throat, but it quickly slid back down when she considered he might be gay. That would be just her luck.

“They look very nice. How do they feel?” He stood back and flashed that selling smile—anything for a sale, she supposed.

“F-fine.” She jutted her legs out and stared at her feet. “I like them.”

“Perhaps you should walk around the room.” He offered his hand and helped her stand. “Make sure they don’t pinch those pretty little toes.”

She hadn’t had tummy butterflies in ages, but he set a flurry loose with a wink of his azure eye. The touch of his palm sent an electric jolt up her arm, and her benign attraction to him turned terminal. Could she sashay across the floor in tennis shoes and a skirt and still look alluring? She craved perfection in his eyes.

***

Well, that’s all I’m sharing with you. If you want to know how the story turns out, you’ll have to buy Just The Right Fit. Like I said, you can find it at Muse It Up Publishing, (http://www.museituppublishing.com), probably on sale as a new release. And, when you have time, I’d love to have you stop by Dishin’ It Out (http://mizging.blogspot.com) and see what’s cookin’ on my blog. I just started a second one, Cowboy Kisses (http://cowboykisses.blogspot.com) for those of you who enjoy western romance. You can mosey on over there, too, if you’d like.

Happy Birthday, Ginger Simpson!

I'm dedicating my blog today to a very special person. I've never met her in the flesh, but I feel amazingly close to her. This is despite the fact that we live half a world away from each other, have followed dramatically different paths in our lives, and would get into a huge fight if we ever decided to discuss politics (which we won't!)

Today is the anniversary of the birth of Ginger Jones Simpson – novelist, poet, blogger and humorist; teacher and corrections officer; wife, mother and grandmother; mentor for dozens of new authors; ageless and enduring sex symbol. Okay, I threw the last one for a laugh, but since she's started on hormones she's definitely turned into a red hot mama!

A prolific and versatile author, Ginger has tackled genres from historical romance to young adult, thrillers to erotica. Whatever she's writing, she manages to convey an emotional authenticity that draws readers into her characters' world. In her books, people matter. She makes you care about her heroines and heroes – makes them real.

She's enormously supportive of other authors, sharing space on her popular blog “Dishin' It Out”, offering marketing tips, doing reviews and generally offering encouragement. And when you're looking for a laugh, Ginger's the gal you need. She has the gift of seeing the funny side of every experience – even health challenges, and especially aging. No one demonstrates more convincingly that getting old is not for sissies.

Ginger, on your special day, I want to wish you the very best of everything. You inspire me, with your courage, your toughness, your sincerity and your persistence in the face of obstacles. I can only hope that when I reach your age (which won't be that long from now), I have your level of energy and your sense of commitment.

And if you ever want to collaborate on another erotica novel – I'm in!

Sending you a huge birthday hug,

Lisabet

Senior Sex

By Ginger Simpson (Guest Blogger)

Today I'm revealing two secrets. One: I’m so not the sexy type. No matter how hard I try to pretend, there is nothing about this sixty-five-year-old body that makes me think I could make a man shiver with desire. Therein lies the problem with being successful in writing erotica…at least from my POV. When I write, the characters tell me a story and I have to envision the concept to put it into words. There are just no words adequate enough to drag something sexy from this brain to my fingertips. All I can see is myself, and believe me, no one wants to share that image. Someone forgot to secure the baggage and the package shifted during travel. Seriously!

There once was a time when I could put on a black nightie and feel somewhat desirable, but that ship sailed…and I believe sunk some years ago. Truth is, age steals so many things from you that you’ve always taken for granted. All those graphic stories that tell of “his” manhood delving into her “moist” woman’s cave. HA! Once you become a senior citizen, if you don’t have a bottle of lube by the bedside, you’d better be prepared to scream…and not in ecstasy. Drier than dust comes to mind!

And those perky breasts! Maybe twenty years ago they were. Now they’ve migrated North and South. When an older woman is flat on her back, it’s not quite so easy to “capture a nipple" when her breasts reside in her armpits.

Once, I was flexible, now I’m arthritic. Sex is about as appealing to me as having a blood test. And of course, those positions that once brought delight now bring Charlie Horses and achy hips. Of course, some may say, “be on top.” NO friggin way! Then I keep flashing back to Dorothy’s advice to Blanche on the Golden Girls to bend over and look in a mirror. OMG! I did and I believe I’m a direct descendant of the Char Pei dog line. That didn’t do a darn thing for my missing self-esteem.

Oh, I know men could have sex with a knot hole, but I’ve always liked to think I was more attractive than a piece of wood. Now I’m not to sure, and sometimes, I actually wish we had a fence. *lol*

I think the main reason I can’t write erotica is that I’m a “behind the door” kind of girl—both in writing and my personal life. I love romance. I want to feel the attraction, the heat, but I like things left to my imagination. Close the door at that point and let me picture what goes on behind it. I don’t need to read about every lick, suck or plunge. Honestly, I don’t. But to those of you who do, and write or read it with such ease and comfort, I applaud you. I do have to mention that there are a few of my fellow authors who write with the door wide open and I love their style. Lisabet is one of those, Sloane Taylor is the other.

Erotica is a hot seller, but I guess I’ll miss the boat on this one. Same goes for fairies, werewolves, shape shifters, and vampires. Readers are really into fantasy, and if you throw in sex, you’re got a winning novel. Unfortunately, most of my characters pop out of the Old West, and in order to make the story somewhat believable, even if it is fiction, the author has to show the story to the reader. I can’t if I can’t imagine it. Besides, the only thing howling at the moon in my books is going to be a coyote, and if someone’s shape shifts, it’s because she’s with child. I can’t ever recall seeing a fairy or vampire on Little House on the Prairie or Bonanza, so I think I’ll stick with writing what I can see in my mind’s eye. I just had cataracts removed, but maybe that eye still has one.

Second secret revealed: Just so you know...I did FORCE myself to write an erotica book some time ago. I'm Pepper St. Claire. Writing the genre was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. Normally words flow with ease from my mind to my fingers, but, I really struggled to get the story finished. It's entitled Searchers and is still available at Whiskey Creek Press.

Ellora's cave rejected it back then because, GASP!!!!, my heroine had an affair. How offensive is that in this day and age? But, my rejection letter cited that the concept would be offensive to readers and not something they endorsed. Like I said in one of my humorous books...you can have sex with a vampire, a hairy werewolf, or an alien in any body orifice, time-travel to another century and screw a count or duke, but God forbid your heroine actually strays to someone else's bed while she's married. That NEVER happens!

Thanks to Lisabet for letting me take up space today and hosting a stop on my blog tour. There's a little break between this one and my last tour appearance, but I hope you'll visit me at Lindsay Below's site at http://lbelow.blogspot.com where I have no idea what I'll talk about, but I'm thinking I need to share some of Odessa with you since it's a February release and you may not have heard about it. In the meantime you can always visit my website http://www.gingersimpson.com and read about any of my books. And you're always welcome at my blog, Dishin' It Out. Never know what the heck (or who) you'll find there!

See you soon!

SPICE UP YOUR LIFE WITH GINGER

Gun Totin' Granny

By Ginger Simpson (Guest Blogger)

When my husband and I first moved to Tennessee, we lived in my son’s in-law’s house in Sparta, which is a couple of hours away from my grandson, Spencer. I was thrilled to be closer than California, and available to help with him when I could. He’s autistic in case you haven’t read any of my million posts that mention him. Still, moving here to be closer to him didn’t negate our need for income. Despite the great rental deal we were given, the outsourcing of jobs in the area had really damaged the economy there, and my husband had no luck finding employment.

He decided to try being a handyman, and he did secure a couple of jobs, but that was what most out-of-work men were doing to earn cash. Together we decided that he’d try the trucking industry, but until his earning began, I decided to look for a temporary position.

I visited the local employment office and was immediately sent to the White County Sheriff’s office for an interview. Imagine my surprise when I got there and discovered I was asking to be considered for a Correctional Officer Position in the county jail. I went through with the interview, even tried not to squirm when the Jail Administrator showed me a picture of him beat to a pulp by one of the inmates, and left certain I’d never be hired at my age with no experience at all in the field.

Shock of shocks…when I got home, I found a message on the recorder…I got the job! I showed up the next day, got my uniform pants, was informed I needed a gun and all the accessories. I made a quick trip to a uniform store in a neighboring town and bought a utility belt, holster, cuffs, pepper spray holder, stays to keep everything in place, and two black shirts that said, “Sheriff” on the back. I kept asking myself, “what are you thinking?

Anyhow to make a long story short, I worked there for a year, and I loved it. It was probably one of the most exciting positions I’ve ever held and, from that experience, I gained fodder for my recently-released novel, First Degree Innocence. The title stemmed from all the claims of innocence I heard daily. It seems no one in jail is guilty. I honestly believe that 90% of the women incarcerated are there because of their involvement with a man. Anyhow that seemed to be the case. The county facility also housed state inmates because of the over-crowding in the prison system, so we had our hands full. I was shocked that most want to go to prison because life there is simpler than in the county jail.

Of all the experiences I had, I can’t adequately explain how awesome it was to shoot a gun for the very first time and score the highest of all those qualifying at the time. That included the deputies. I sure never expected to become a gun-totin’ granny, but the experience was worth every minute of it. If I was twenty years younger, I’d go back in a hot minute.

So, I hope you’ll read the exciting story of Carrie Lang, my heroine who is wrongfully convicted for a crime she didn’t commit. Here’s the video to give you a little taste:

You can buy the book from Amazon or other outlets.

Want more? Drop by my blog for more information on me and my books - and a few laughs, too: mizging.blogspot.com.

Review: Sparta Rose by Ginger Simpson

Reviewed by Lisabet Sarai (You can buy Sparta Rose from Eternal Press.)

Seventeen year old Ellie Fountain hates being a girl. She is sure that her father would have preferred having a son to help him run the family ranch, Fountainhead, perched in the beautiful Cumberland Hills above the town of Sparta, Tennessee. Ellie can’t even remember her mother, who died when she was an infant. Her dad is all she has, and she wants to prove to him that she is as capable as any man.

However, Tyler Bishop, the ranch foreman, keeps interfering with her goal. Ty is her father’s favorite, monopolizing her dad’s attention and admiration. Ellie suspects that Ty is scheming to steal her birthright by ingratiating himself with her father. Even if his intentions are honest, he doesn’t take her seriously, viewing her as “just a girl” despite the fact that she has grown up in the saddle and can ride, rope and handle a shotgun as well as any of the ranch hands.

Ben Fountain needs all the help he can get. Newcomer Dude Bryant and his twin sons, Jeb and Joshua, are putting pressure on him and the other locals to sell their land. When persuasion isn’t sufficient, the Bryants appear quite willing to use intimidation and other unsavory tactics. Secretly, Ellie buys herself a pistol and teaches herself to use it, in order to assist in defending Fountainhead. When Ty and her father discover her ambitions, though, her father scolds her and Ty belittles her.

Despite his dismissive behavior, Ellie can’t stop thinking about Ty. The feelings that he evokes are puzzling, disturbing and thrilling, even though the two of them spend most of their time in each other’s presence arguing. When her father convinces Ty to invite Ellie to the annual harvest dance down in Sparta, Ellie’s excitement at the prospect of being close to Ty overwhelms her annoyance at her father’s meddling. The night of the dance begins as a romantic idyll. However, misunderstandings between Ellie and Ty make her vulnerable to the evil plans of Jeb Bryant.

I greatly enjoyed reading Sparta Rose. Ellie is a fabulous character, distinctive and believable. She’s brash and funny, sometimes silly, sometimes strong. Her conflicting emotions and volatile moods fit in well with her tender age. Ms. Simpson does an excellent job showing us her growing maturity in the face of danger and blossoming love.

I loved Tyler, too. He’s not the perfect, stereotyped romance hero. Sure, he’s handsome and capable, but he’s almost as confused and vulnerable as Ellie. He’s constantly putting his foot in his mouth and making her angry. The author doesn’t tell us how old Ty is, but he’s obviously pretty young and inexperienced himself, especially when it comes to women.

These two characters really carry the novel. Their banter comes alive on the pages. Although the plot somewhat predictable, the resolution did surprise me. Still, Jeb Bryant is portrayed as such a thorough villain, you know right away that he’s going to do something extremely nasty.

Sparta Rose is a sweet romance. There are some intense kisses, and some lustful feelings, but nothing more explicit. Although I tend to write much more graphic romance myself, I didn’t feel disappointed at all by the lack of sex in this novel. It fit with the main characters, both of whom were new to love.

If you like sweet romance with a western flavor, I highly recommend Sparta Rose. The cover is a perfect image of Ellie: slender and feminine, strong and proud, loving and defending her Tennessee home.

Gimme the Good Ol' Days

By Ginger Simpson (Guest Author)

I've always been very open to suggestion and even had to stop watching Marcus Welby M.D. in my youth because I manifested the same symptoms the morning after I viewed an episode. Now don't class me as a hypochondriac... there's a vast difference between inventing illness and mimicking one.

I thought I had a pretty good handle on that problem, but now I have to worry about the side affects of the medicines I take. You know all those things they babble at sound faster than the speed of light at the end of the recommending ad. Would you rather have RLS (Restless Leg Syndrome) or a severe gambling problem? I'm not sure. Depends on my luck, I guess. Ohhh, let’s not mention “Depends.” I’m not there yet, thankfully.

Although I don't suffer from genital warts, I'm thrilled that those with the condition are trying to protect their partner by taking a little pill a day, but how happy will they be when their mates suffer a stroke? How about that commercial that shows someone slumbering restfully after ingesting just one little tablet? How peaceful can you sleep when complex behaviors such as “sleep-driving” have been reported by people taking the drug. I kid you not! And what about this epidemic of penile flacidity? Is that even a word? Has this always been a problem and if so, why are we forced to hear about it now? I’m still trying to figure out the connection between an enhancing drug and two people in separate bathtubs.

I take medication for atrial fibrillation that comes with a warning list a mile long. I can't take over-the-counter cold medicines because I might have a stroke, and if I combine it with a certain anti-depressant, I might become suicidal. Next thing I know, I won't be able to have sex on a night with a full moon in any month beginning with J. Now I’m taking blood thinners too, so I can’t eat leafy greens. It has something to do with the vitamin in them that interferes with the thinning process. Not eating leafy greens is also causing a problem with another thinning process…my butt!

What happened to the days when we didn't have to hear about feminine itching, hemorrhoids and especially sexual dysfunction. Do we really want to see a couple who has that problem, see the twinkle in their eye and know their business? I don't. I'm an author and I believe in a good romance, but I like something left to the imagination. Don't you?

I don’t even like buying Preparation H or laxatives, so I certainly don’t want to watch a commercial that fully explains why they’re needed. I like the old days when some things were still sacred.

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For more humor and wisdom from Miz Ginger, visit her blog Dishin' It Out and her website http://www.gingersimpson.com.

Also, Ginger explicitly asked me to wish everyone of you Happy Holidays!