Friday, June 21, 2013


I’m not a big drinker. I enjoy margaritas and hard lemonade. Usually, I have one drink a day on the porch, in the afternoon if my uncle or Jess comes to visit. I never drink alone, and if I have more than one, I get sleepy. My mother, a church-going woman always feared that I would be susceptible to alcoholism because my Dad’s family had a couple of members who seemed to have a drinking problem. So, she was always dead-set against us having any alcohol in the house. She would roll over in her grave were she to go in my kitchen now, because I cook with it – I have rum and Jack Daniels and vodka and wine – looks like a saloon. My dad and uncle always loved to have a beer, and I can remember the antics we would go through in their pursuit of happy hour.
My dad and uncle would have been out of luck if it hadn’t been for my Papa. Now, we lived in small-town Louisiana where time slowed down and people still lived on dirt roads and drove ancient pick-up trucks and rode horses and yes – made moonshine. My Papa had a still – an honest to God still. I can still remember all the loops and pipes and gadgets and hear the booze gurgling around as it processed. He had it hid from the women folk in an old storage house on our property.  Uncle had a collection of old coke bottles and stoppers and they were planning on bottling them some liquid refreshments. Now, all of this would have gone well, except for one problem. Me. I have a big mouth. This is true. I can keep a secret – I’ve gotten better at it – but it’s hard. Remember when I got the microphone hung in my mouth? That was a direct result of someone telling me my mouth was big enough to cover a Peavey – and it was – almost. I also have a problem with dares.
My male relatives let me hang around them, I was good at toting and fetching and when I watched them bottle all of that booze, I helped them cart it to a refrigerator in another shed behind my Nana’s house. All would have been well, but it was just too good of a secret to keep and so – I told. My Mom was furious. Moonshine! Around her only daughter! On her father’s land! Agast! So, I had another task. I helped my mom clean out the refrigerator and haul all of the moonshine to an old well on the property and we dumped it in – bottle by bottle. My mother swore me to secrecy on the location of the disposed demon brew. Who was she kidding?
Well, the men discovered the travesty and it was revealed that I had played a part in the whole fiasco. I was in trouble – to say the least. I had to redeem myself, after all, these were the guys who took me horseback riding and built my playhouses and caught baby rabbits for me to pet. So, I spilled the beans. I took Papa and Daddy and Uncle to the old well and pointed down into its depths. I didn’t think anything could be done, but I was wrong. They rigged up some fishing gear and one hung over the side with a pole and a line and the other held his legs and they fished those bottles up. Of course, some of them were broken, but some had survived. They were satisfied.
That wasn’t our only moonshine experience. We had others. We even had a brandy disaster. Every summer, they would take me and a couple of my cousins on vacation. Sometimes it was to Galveston, sometimes it was to Dallas to go to Six Flags, but we went on mini-vacations several times a year. I loved my uncle and I stayed with them frequently, (now this wasn’t  Uncle Mike, if you’re wondering – no, this was Uncle Bill) but Uncle loved brandy and he had a plum tree. So, he decided to set up a batch to ferment while we went on vacation. And that would have been good, but something happened. It exploded – the whole batch exploded, sending plums everywhere. When we returned, there were plums on the ceiling and plums on the wall and plums sticking to the window, it was a sight. His wife wasn’t too happy either. It reminds me of an Uncle Michael story, the day he decided to make cornnuts. He tried to deep fry hominy and it exploded - - could have been horrific, but we were out of the way. But Aunt wasn’t pleased by the huge grease stain and kernels of corn on the ceiling, either.
As you can tell, I’ve lived a fairly explosive life. My family firmly believes that if we can mess anything up, we will. When one of us starts a new project, the rest of us backs away  – slowly.  But we always try to make the best of it – don’t tell Jess – but that big 3 layer coconut cake I baked, with the thick pineapple filling? The top layer slid off on the floor, and I picked it up and put it back on. The 3 second rule applies at my house! Ha!

I used the plum scene for inspiration in HOT ON HER TRAIL – hey, I have to get my material some way – look. HOT ON HER TRAIL is HELL YEAH! 2 out of 9 – haha and 9 to go.

Here’s the Amazon eBook buy link:
My website:
And the excerpt –
Sleeping in Jacob’s arms was almost as good as having sex with him. Almost. Cuddling down under the soft covers, Jessie let her mind remember every moment of the wonderful time they shared the previous evening. She was storing up every memory that she could. Soon, she would be on her own again and reliving these precious moments would keep her going. Upon their return from the old home place, he had drawn her a bath. She would never forget how he had knelt beside it and tenderly soaped and cleansed her body, even washing her hair. After patting her dry, he had carried her to bed and lulled her to sleep with a soothing back rub. At the end of the massage session, he had kissed her awake and made love to her again. He had urged her up on hands and knees and mounted her from the back, this time nipping her neck when he came - like a stallion with a mare. Jessie had climaxed harder than ever before. Sex with Jacob just kept getting better and better.
Now lying here in his arms, she knew that she had to get serious, As much as she longed to depend on him for her every need, she couldn’t ask him to give up his dream of the perfect family to take on a wife who was uneducated, poor and illiterate. It just wouldn’t be fair to him. So, Jessie struggled with herself. She was desperate to think of some way to make a living for her child that would be more respectable than cleaning toilets. She wanted her baby to be proud of her, and she didn’t want Jacob to be ashamed of his son’s mother. .
“What are you worrying about, puddin’?” Jacob asked, trailing the tips of his fingers up and down her arm.
“Whether or not I’m going to be a good mother to our son.” There. That was honest enough.
“Are you kidding? You’re going to be a terrific mom.” He started to say more when shouting and hollering and a general commotion broke through their reverie. “I had better go check that out,” Jacob grabbed his pants and a shirt and made for the other part of the house. Jessie got up also, hoping that nothing was seriously wrong. She didn’t have much to choose from in the way of clothing, so she slipped the yellow sundress back on. Luckily, she had washed it out in the sink and hung it up to dry. Thank the Lord for wrinkle free material!
When she got to the kitchen there was a popping and thunking sound. Isaac and Nathan were whooping and hollering and Libby was scurrying around with dish towels and big Tupperware bowls. “What’s going on?” she heard Jacob ask.
Isaac cracked up. “Libby’s homebrew exploded.”
Oh, no! Jessie thought. She edged in trying to get a better look. Sure enough, the pantry was drenched in plum juice. Plums were bouncing out of the container and dozens were sticking to the ceiling like colorful modern art. “Libby!” she exclaimed. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.,” she moaned. “I’ve never seen such a mess in my life!” Jessie stepped in and started helping her.
Noah walked back in with Libby’s recipe. “Did you follow the directions?” he asked. “Exactly?”
Libby was mopping up the strong smelling juice. “I’m sure we did. Jessie checked the recipe, didn’t you?” She looked at Jessie for confirmation. Jessie’s stomach balled up into a knot.
Before Jessie could answer, Noah read the recipe out loud - then asked. “Did you pierce each one of the plums like it said to do?”
“Give me that book,” Libby huffed. She glanced at Jessie, “We must have missed that part,” she sighed.
Aron walked to the door of the pantry. “Whoooeeeee,” he crowed. “It sure smells good in here! Can I have a taste, sugar-britches?” Libby waved the mop at him.
Jessie felt horrible. “Libby, I’m so sorry.”
Libby waved it off with a smile. “Don’t worry about it.”
“We’ll have this cleaned up in a jiffy. Why don’t you two ladies go sit down,” Jacob took the mop from Libby and quickly started mopping the juice off the floor.
“Here, Isaac. Pick some plums.” Aron handed him a bowl and pointed to the plums that were overhead.
Libby led Jessie into the kitchen. “What’s wrong, Jessie? I can tell you’re about to cry.”
Jessie leaned on the bar and hung her head. “I can’t read,” she whispered brokenly. “I have dyslexia.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” Libby hugged her close.
“Don’t tell Jacob, please,” Jessie begged.
“You don’t have a thing in the world to be ashamed of, “ Libby took Jessie by the shoulders. “Dyslexia is something this family understand.” At Jessie’s questioning look, Libby explained. “Nathan is dyslexic.” She pulled Jessie to the family room and sat her down at the computer. “Look at all of these programs that we’ve got that will help you with your reading.”
Jessie wiped the tears from her eyes and studied what Libby was showing her. “I had no idea that these programs even existed.”
“You can use them any time you’d like. And, I’d be glad to help.” Libby handed her a tissue.
“I still don’t want Jacob to know, not yet anyway.”
“You need to tell him, Jessie. He’ll understand, completely.” Libby assured her. Jessie knew that Libby was right; but that didn’t make it any easier.

And since that one wasn’t very hot – here’s a bonus. –
He had another surprise for her. One that his daddy had given his mother for a wedding present and the boys had kept up the tradition, even after their mother had gone. He turned east at the next turn-off, and in a few minutes Libby knew where they were heading. “It’s the sunflowers!”
Jacob pulled up next to the extravagant display. Jessie was off and in the middle of them before he could dismount. “You’ve already seen them?”
Following her into the maze, he heard her answer. “Yes, I walked through them the other day, just before Nathan and I had our close call.” Catching up with her, he found her sitting on the carved wooden bench, right by the old covered well. Funny, this was the spot where he was planning on bringing her. “Jacob, what is this wonderful place?”
Stepping into the small opening that was naturally formed by a circle of very tall golden sunflowers, he saw her sitting there looking like a wood nymph. Her hair was windblown and her little cheeks were like red apples that had been kissed by the sun. Blue was too tame a word for her eyes, they were as alive and dancing as bright as moonlight on the water. “This was where my dad proposed to my mom. At that time, it was just the well sitting out in a field of wildflowers. There was an old legend in our family that if a woman looks down into this old well and makes a wish, she’ll see the face of the person she’s supposed to marry.” Jacob squatted down in front of her, enjoying the view. Did she realize why he was telling her all of this? “Mom swore on a stack of Bibles she saw Dad’s face. This old well became their spot. When he proposed, he did it here. And when they got married, Dad planted this huge field of sunflowers for her because they were her favorite. He replanted it every year, making it bigger and bigger until you have the twelve acres it is now.”
Struck by the magic of the story, Jessie hopped up and walked to the well, trying with all of her might to push the concrete covering to one side. Smiling with indulgence, Jacob stepped up behind her and added his muscle until the cover moved easily. “Look down in there, Jess. Tell me what you see.”
Jessie stood on her tiptoes and put her forearms on the lip of the well, gazing down into the waters. She could see the waning blue of the sky reflected into the clear pool, as well as a ring of colorful sunflowers. Her own face peered back. “I see me,” she laughed. Looking over her shoulder at Jacob, she wrinkled her nose at him and smiled. “Either, it has to be dark or I’m doomed to be an old maid.” Jacob moved in closer, blanketing her back with his wide, warm chest.
“Look again, precious.” Heat pounding in her chest, Jessie gazed back down into the dark waters alive with the reflections of their world. Jacob’s face was reflected next to hers, but he wasn’t looking at the water - he was looking at her with the most intense look of love she had ever seen. Jessie gasped! Surely, it was an illusion. “Who do you see, Jess?”
Mercy! Jessie fought every instinct that told her to run - to get away - because what she was seeing couldn’t be real. It must be a trick of the light. Deciding to preserve her dignity, Jessie made light of the intense moment. “I see a handsome cowboy.” Pretending that she was looking closer, she said. “I think its Matt Damon!” she said in a kidding tone.
“Why you, little . . . ” Jacob gabbed Jessie, picked her up, and blew on her belly. “Would you rather have Matt Damon than me?” He nipped at her playfully, she was giggling so hard that she was about to lose her breath.
At his question, Jessie sobered. It was unacceptable for him to think that she would ever desire anyone more than she did him. “No, no,” Jessie ran her hand through his thick dark hair. “I want no one, but you. Only you.”
Jacob needed to talk, to tell her what he was beginning to feel. But, right now he needed to kiss her much, much more.
His lips were magical, his touch was thrilling and it made Jessie feel . . . cherished. Hungrily, she answered his kiss. Jessie wanted more. Letting her kiss slide from his lips, she nipped him on the jaw before scraping her teeth on the side of his neck. Lord, she understood why one would want to be a vampire. Pressing her breasts to his chest, she sucked on his neck, knowing that it would leave a mark. He had arranged her in what was fast becoming her favorite position; astraddle of his lap, giving her full and complete access to that playground of a chest.
How lucky could a man get? With amazed lust, he watched his angel baby lose control. With the cutest, sexiest growl he ever heard, she ripped his shirt open with two tugs of the snaps. He had expected her to lower her mouth and began to tease. But, she surprised him. Her eyes softened and that little pink tongue settled on her lip as if in deep concentration. She opened his shirt wide - and then - Oh Lord - Jessie began to play.
With the palms of her hands, she soothed the crisp hair that covered his pecs. Luxuriously, she rubbed in circles, closing her eyes and enjoying the play of muscles under her fingertips. Slowly, she teased his nipples; tracing them, scraping her nails over the protruding little buttons. Jacob tensed. His whole sensual system went into overload. He sensed that she needed this, and he was going to give it to her if it killed him. Those magic little fingers began massaging the area over his heart, working her way upward, sensually rubbing and kneading until he grunted his excitement.
Jessie was so into touching him. She couldn’t get enough of the sexy flesh beneath her hands. Running her fingers though the hair on his chest made her vulva swell and ache to be touched, filled, licked - anything. Using thumbs and forefingers, she massaged his nipples, mimicking the method that he used to drive her insane.
It took every ounce of willpower that Jacob had to be still. Every cell of his body was screaming to throw her to the ground and drive his aching cock deep into her body. Instead, he toughed it out. Damn! He ought to get a medal. Lord, she was so beautiful. He couldn’t get enough of looking at her. Now as she took pleasure in his body, her face was a picture of rapture. Tenderly he pushed her hair back, loving the trust and confidence she displayed as she caressed his skin. “You’re my angel. Do you know that? I don’t know what in the world I ever did without you.”
Jessie felt his hips jerk; his tremendous erection nudged her sensitive pussy. Before she thought, she began to grind on the iron-hard shaft between her legs. The seam of her blue jeans fit right over her clit, and the combined friction set her nerves to tingling. “I need to come, Jacob,” she gripped his shoulders and increased the pressure that felt so good.
This was for her, he told himself. Jacob prayed for strength. The last thing he wanted to do was cum in his britches. Holy Shit! It didn’t get any better than this! “That’s it doll. Take your pleasure. Scrub that little pussy on me, baby. I love to watch your face when you come.” His words seemed to enflame her and she bore down even harder. Jacob steadied her, holding her just under her tits, enjoying the way they bounced and jiggled. He would get off later, at the waterfall. But, right now - he was spellbound watching Jessie move against him with nothing but her own satisfaction in mind.
“Jacob!” she screamed. “Hold me!” Jacob enfolded her close. He loved that she cried out his name when she came. He wanted his name and mindless pleasure to forever be intertwined in her heart. Her little body quivered next to his. She wanted him to hold her. He marveled at that. This wasn’t the first time she had requested to be held while in the throes of climax. So, he hugged her close, promising himself that there was nothing or no one that would ever tear her away from him.

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