The shoes didn't fit. It was an omen.

Monday, December 30, 2013

2014 Plans

Before I tell you my plans, I wanted to wish you all a Happy New New. May God be good to us all and grant us our dreams within reason.

Also, thank you all who follow, visit, and comment. Your words of encouragement mean a lot to me. I'm believing that 2014 will be obstacle free for all of us.

Now for my plans. I've been thinking about the goals I set every year. Sometimes I set them too high to reach. So this year I'm keeping them within reach.

Keeping my house clean: I've been cleaning one to two rooms a day. This has been doable and fits right into my writing and working schedule. Not to mention, I always hated cleaning the whole house in one day. Overwhelming and boring.

Exercise: I'll keep speed and interval walking thirty to forty minutes a day. And I'll keep at the light weight training, too. No more over doing it for me. The lesson learned: too much of good thing can be very, very bad.

Writing: Stick with my morning routine of two to three hours. My brain works better at this time versus night. 

Publishing:  Killer Stilettos is next to be out. It's the next book in the Lila's Journey series. And I have a short story already for publishing except for a cover. Samah Ronit. 

Last but not least, I have another project. A novella series to be published sometime this year. White Trash and Pill Heads.

What are your plans for this new year?

Hugs and chocolate!

Friday, December 27, 2013

Enjoying the Holidays

It's really all about God's son coming in human form, and family, and good will toward others. Not all the stuff.

Hope everyone is having a grand time!

Hugs and chocolate,

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Lady Lumps

"Look at you," Sweetman said, grabbing me by the arm, turning me to face the mirror. "You're losing body mass. Your Lady Lumps are shrinking."

I study myself, and shrug. "Guess I'm the opposite of most menopausal women." Within a month I dropped 10 pounds...and not water weight. Sweetman's right about losing body mass. But I figure after the crazy year we've had with his cancer, the grandbaby, and the just has to be stress.

"Why aren't you taking this seriously? This is your health we're talking about!"

Okay. So I went to see the doctor. She ran all kinds of blood tests per the Sweetman. This included tomber markers, which came back negative. 

But when the doctor felt around my neck and thyroid, she said, "You've got a lump."

Wednesday, I go for an ultrasound of the thyroid. It's probably a goiter. Something common for peeps with Hashaimoto's Disease. It's nothing serious, but will end up being surgically removed.

Anyone else out there coping with a thyroid disease?

Hugs and chocolate,

Sunday, December 8, 2013

Would You Sell Your Soul For Fame?

"Are you willing to do anything to be famous?" a potential agent asked me. This was years ago when I was seeking a career in acting and modeling.

"Um," was my first reaction.

The guy waggled his brows at me, and then said, "I've got this one young gal who's making millions. We jump started her career by having her pose for Playboy."

My face went hot. "Oh." All I really wanted to do was act and entertain people, not pose naked for a wack mag. Not to mention, thoughts of my dad or step dad catching wind of this or accidentally picking one up ... well... that would have been humiliating.

That day my acting and modeling career went into the toilet. I just couldn't sell myself out. Morals and ethics mean something to me. And quite frankly, when I see someone on television like the Kardashion girls flash around their nonsense or Miley Cyrus twerking Alan Thicke ... I cringe. What are they thinking? Does money and being noticed mean that much?

I pretty much feel the same about the stories and novels I write. Which brings me to the topic of writing in sex scenes. I struggle. 

In White Trash and Pill Heads, I've got two characters. They're a couple with some major issues and sex seems to be one of their outlets besides drugs and booze. Currently, there are some sex scenes written in. But I'm considering taking them out. You know, write it with an implication  of sex.

Why? It's that moral and ethics thing I go through. I know my dad will be reading it. So will his friends. So will my daughters. And so will the Big Guy in the Sky. And He sees everything.

How about any of you? Would you do anything to be famous or sell your books?

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Ding-Dong My Computer Died

Today, I wanted to talk about my book covers and their creators and whatnot. But I'm working on a Blogger App via my iPhone. So I'm somewhat limited as to what I can do.

Ding-Dong! My computer is dead. The internal drive slowly died and my battery pack can't revive it.

However, I've been writing on my Notepad App and utilizing pen and paper to keep Killer Stilettos going. Been critiquing and beta -reading for fellow authors this way, too. But I can't comment directly onto whatever format they send me. So I jot down notes and email them.

At first Sweetman said, "Cyber Monday is coming. We'll get you a new one." Well, it came and went. No computer was purchased.

Now he says, "After the New Year!" I have a face for this comment.

Oh well...I'll be patient. Besides, the Sweetman has been scheduled for another surgery. The doctors found polyps in his voice box. Patience is a good thing.

Anyone dealing with similar challenges?

Hugs and chocolate,

Monday, November 25, 2013

Stove Top Stuffing

“Next year, I’m taking everyone out for Thanksgiving. Your dinner was terrible again!” Yep. That’s what the Sweetman said about last year’s Thanksgiving dinner.

You see, I make everything from scratch. From the pies to the stuffing. Why? Well, because I love to cook for one. And two, I’m one of those foodies who refuses to eat anything processed. This includes the turkey. While I want an antibiotic, cruelty, and hormone free one, Sweetman wants a Butterball.

I should know better since he loves to eat cold Progresso soup right from the can. Not to mention, he delights  in Tortino Pizza Rolls and fixes himself bowls of Cocoa Crispies for a late night snack after he’s indulged in several handfuls of Twizzlers, Snickers, pretzels, and chips. And the later mind you is before and after dinner.

“I just can’t understand why I’m gaining weight,”he says.

Hmmf! Gee, I wonder.

This year Sweetman handed me a hundred dollars to buy what I needed to make Thanksgiving dinner. Guess he forgot what he said after the last one. Anyway, he gave me these instructions, “I want corn on the cob. Get a Butterball turkey. Some couscous. And get Stove Top Stuffing.”

“Why Stove Top?” I ask.

He says, “I don’t like your stuffing.”

“But its from scratch. What’s wrong with it? Not enough chemicals for you?”

Obviously, he has no clue that there are over fifteen ingredients in this crap. Among them is fructose corn syrup, BHA, BHT (doesn’t this cause cancer?), and propyl gallate-another name anti-freeze. The stuff sounds like its meant for a deadly weapon of mass destruction. Not to mention, there’s three hundred ninety milligrams of sodium in it. After reading what I just wrote, this stuff may explode his already expanding tummy.

I hope everyone has a wonderful Thanksgiving. And no matter how you prepare your dinner. Prepare it with lots of love.

Hugs and chocolate,


Gobble Tov

Monday, November 11, 2013


Hello, dears. Gram here today. My poor creator has been extremely busy today with the cleaning, grocery shopping, and errands. She doesn’t always listen to me about not cramming in too much on her off days from The Salon. I do hope I get her notes down right that she left me.

Strange. Don’t you think? You know, that she would have me fill in as a secretary while she attends to such things. I’m no writer whatsoever. But here goes…

Are any of you Indie writer’s out there feeling the market is SATURATED with books? Every cyber corner my creator seems to turn, is birthing a new one. She's beginning to believe there are polygons on fertility drugs out there multiplying times three.

The Information Age in which we live is characterized by saturation. We are inundated from all sides, every moment of everyday by more information than we can now process. Author Phil Elmore. You can find his full article at:

Of course, she’s read several books on marketing and whatnot. I can’t tell you how many articles she’s scoured through on the web. Like, 10 Winning Marketing Strategies For Your Self-Published Book, by Author Bidnotto. You can find his article at:

The both of us are wondering if there is more to it than determination and luck. Secondhand Shoes seems to drift in an ocean out there. Every now and then someone throws it a lifesaver.

Go here to check it out. It's 99 cents for your Kindle.

It’s also available for all countries on Amazon. She has also written two short stories, The Partners’ Progeny and Time On Her Side.

Personally, I’ve been prodding her to write more. It clears the poo out of anyone’s head and gets you to focus. She does listen to me about that. Good thing, too. Wish my grand daughter, Lila, would listen. But if anyone has an eighteen year old at home,you know how that goes.

As for my creator’s titles, here they are:

Killer Stilettos, Book II in the Lila's Journey Series – Paranormal (we’re working on those rewrites together)

Combat Boots-3rd book Lila's Journey Series (all we have are some ideas jotted down)

White Trash and Pill Heads- Family drama/suspense (she’s on her fifth draft with this one)

Amuck in Time- cozy sci-fi (ideas jotted down)

The House on Mendocino Street-paranormal (first draft almost completed)

The Day It Happened-apocalyptic/thriller/suspense (two chapters drafted)

Well, dears. That’s all she wrote. I do hope you have a lovely, day, evening, and week.


Thursday, November 7, 2013

Thank You’s and Random Stuff


Later, I’ll be going down south to see my little Glowstick and Tinkerbell. Its all a mess, STILLL. The State makes absolutely no sense. The two different divisions don’t agree as to where the baby should go. So keep praying for both my grandson and daughter.

Anyway, I’ve been chopping chapters in Killer Stilettos.Things that don’t make the story move. It’s a hard task to chop a chapter that is smooth and clean. But all you writers know how it goes. Chopping and rewriting is a part of a writer’s life.

Also, Time On Her Side hit #6 during the FREE promotion. It never would have gotten there if it weren’t for the following Blogger buddies:

Alex J. Cavanaugh

EJ Wesley

Gary Pennick and Penny

William Kendall

Norma Bieshir

Roland Yeomans

Lena Winfrey

Lorelei Bell

Lucy Pireel

Michael Di Gusi

Eve Gaal



It’s 99 cents for all countries on Amazon.


And I’ve already gotten feed back from my biggest fan and critic. My dad. He said, “I couldn’t put it down. But I wanted more! There has to be more.”

I say, “Anything is possible. There could be more. Probably an 85, 000 word novel in the works. Amuck in Time.”

Hope everyone has a great day!

Hugs and chocolate,


Friday, November 1, 2013

Another Release!

Today, I release another short on Amazon. A cozy Sci-fi. Time on Her Side. It’s FREE until November 5th.

For Kindle only. Available for all countries. PLEASE COPY AND SHARE WITH YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY.


They say God gives second chances.

Forty years have shown Wilhelmina has nothing but a lifetime of four failed marriages, a job she hates, and her most recent affair with a married businessman. Until one day, while sipping coffee her silent prayers are answered--she’s visited by her future self, offering Wilhelmina a chance to re-do her life, giving her a mission to save the future world from the baby she’s unknowingly pregnant with. Is it the miracle she hoped for, or will this lead into a whole new set of problems?


Hugs and chocolate,


Thursday, October 31, 2013

The House On Mendocino Street

Today, I’ll share a pic of the house I based the story on. A couple of years ago, I accidently had Amazon deliver my Kindle to the address. At the time it was boarded up and the yard was a horrible mess like the day I had my initial walk through. It looked haunted.

Last week, I drove by and snapped the pic below.


An investor must have bought it. At the time of my purchase, it was in foreclosure. The young couple I sold it to ended up going bankrupt and put the house in foreclosure not long after.

Was grandpa-ghost not happy with these two? ***shrugs*** Could be. From what a psychic told me, he loved being around me and my children. So its possible he didn’t care for the young couple like he didn’t care for the Bob character in my life at that time.

Anyway, creepy Bob will get his just deserts. I , as the writer will see to it … along with Ed.

If you wish to read the story, The House on Mendocino Street, go to the right of your computer screen and click on the icons, starting with, Writing Off the Cuff.

Before I go, I want to share one of my all time favorite creeps.

Don’t you just love Jack Nicholson?

Happy Halloween, all!

Hugs and chocolate,


Wednesday, October 30, 2013

The House On Mendocino Street-12

Running late today. Woke up late. Went to the chiropractor. Had errands to run. Bathroom and fur-peep scrubbings to do. And began the rewrites to Killer Stilettos.

Anyway, here is scene 12. PLEASE NOTE: This has not been edited. It will be at a later date for publication.

Hugs and chocolate,


You can follow the sequence by clicking on the links below:













Maddie stuffed the creepy coin into her robe pocket with the other one and peered through the bedroom window, scanning for the bald Spanish man. Early morning fog misted through the  backyard, blocking whoever might be out there.

She glanced at her daughter's Little Mermaid digital clock. It flashed a red 6:37 AM. The sun would be up soon. Bob would be up as well.

What sounded like a front door slamming shut, came from the front of the house.  Bob’s voice followed, booming out a few expletives. “Maddie! Where’s Niki!? There’s dog crap on the garage door and my truck again!” This was the third time this week.

Maddie jumped and then shut Niki's window. She watched her daughter get on all fours and crawl under her bed.

Bob stomped through the house and stopped at Niki's bedroom door. “Where is your little angel? I know she's the one doing this. The little brat!”

Maddie blinked her eyes twice. She couldn't believe Bob behaved this way toward her daughter.  “Niki wouldn't do such thing!”  She stepped into the doorway blocking him from entering. A thought stumbled into her mind, I need to get my ducks in a row and leave this idiot.  I need a plan.

“There you go again! You're always coddling her! Always!”

Something crashed to the floor in the living room.

“What the f---?”  Bob spun and made his way to the living room.

Maddie followed in his wake.

Every golfing trophy Bob owned laid in a heap smashed to smithereens in the middle of the living room.

© Shelly Arkon 2013

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

The House on Mendocino Street-11

Two more days before Halloween. Hope all is well with everyone. This is scene 11 to my ghost story. Its not edited but will be at a later date.

Hope you enjoy.

Hugs and chocolate,


If you want to follow the sequence of the story, click on the links below:












Three weeks had passed, and Bob’s attitude toward Niki had worsened. It left Maddie no choice but to call out sick on a Wednesday morning. She needed to find a before-and-after-school program to care for her daughter.

Maddie slugged to the kitchen. She reached into a cupboard for her canister of Maxwell House. Something small and metal-like flew out when she pulled out the coffee can. The thing spun a around for a good thirty seconds before it collapsed on the floor.

She knelt beside it, gingerly scraping it from the floor. After, studied the strange female skeleton face clothed in long flowing robes. In one hand the depiction held a scythe and in the other a globe. Weird.

Maddie held it up and squinted. Tiny letters bordered the bottom half of the coin: Santa Muerte.

Niki screamed form her bedroom, jolting Maddie to attention.

The mom stuffed the coin in her robe pocket and ran to her six-year-old’s room.

There, Niki stood frozen in front of her bedroom window, staring out of it. Her little body shuddered while curtains billowed out and around her.

Maddie grabbed her daughter’s shoulders. “What’s the matter?”

“The bad man wanted in my room.”

“You mean Ed.”

Slowly, Niki turned to face her mom. “Ed’s not the bad man. It’s the bald Spanish one.”

Maddie reached toward the open window. Her hand slipped away from the metal frame but not without taking something small and cold into her hand. A coin. She flipped it up. Another Santa Muerte coin.


© Shelly Arkon 2013

Monday, October 28, 2013

The House on Mendocino Street-10


Hey, everyone! Here’s scene 10.

If you just popped in and are interested in following the story sequence, click on the links below. PLEASE NOTE: This has not been edited.

Hugs and chocolate,













When Bob arrived home, it was a half past nine. So much for being right back from getting a quick coffee from Seven-Eleven. Heat filtered from the top of Maddie’s head all the way down to her toes.

“Hey, Darlin'.” Bob swaggered into the house clueless of his irresponsible behavior.

Maddie cocked her brow and crossed her arms. “It's been two hours since I got home." She began to pace the living room. “How dare you leave my daughter alone!” The words came out in a high-pitched tone.

Bob shook his head, and chuckled. “Well … nothing did happen … so what’s the problem?”

“There was some creep going through our mailbox when I got home today.” Maddie fought back tears.

“What do you want me to do about it?” Bob shrugged and gave her a smirk. His usual way of handling her concerns since they bought and moved into the house.

“I trust you to watch out for Niki when I'm not around. That's what you agreed to.”

“She's not my kid. Besides, her imaginary friend, Ed is around to watch her.”

© Shelly Arkon 2013

Sunday, October 27, 2013

The House on Mendocino Street-9

Hey, everyone:

I know I’m posting late again. Had to drag myself to work again this morning. Whatever virus is going around, I’ve got it.

Anyway, not too many days left before Halloween. I’m wandering if I’ll have a solid end to this story by then.

Hugs and chocolate,


PLEASE NOTE: This has not been edited.

If you want to follow the story, click on the links below:











Maddie forgot about the mail thief and ran up the walkway to the house. Her daughter being left alone concerned her more.

“Niki,” Maddie said, unlocking and opening up the door. Tears filled her eyes as thoughts of the mail thief doing obscene things besides stealing her mail.

Niki lifted her wide eyes.  “Why are you crying?”

“Are you okay?” Maddie dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around her daughter, squeezing her close.  “Where is Mr. Bob?” She sniffled.

“He said he was going to 7-eleven for a coffee. Why are you crying, Mommy?”

Maddie pulled away from her daughter and held her by the shoulders at an arm's length. “How long has he been gone? I don't know what his problem is. She swiped at her tears. I just bought coffee.

“He told me to wait here.  Ed's been watching me. It’s okay.”

“Did he touch you?” Maddie would hunt down that letter thief and kill him herself if she had to.

“He gave me a hug when he found out Mr. Bob left me alone.”

Maddie gasped, and then stood, flipping open her phone. She needed to call the police department. That pedophile would pay for touching her daughter. So would Bob for leaving her little girl to fend for herself.

“But mostly we played tea party.” Niki glanced up at her mom. “And Sylvia likes him, too.”

“Is Ed the man that was out at the mailbox?”

“No. I don’t know who that was. But he scared me.”

© Shelly Arkon 2013

Saturday, October 26, 2013

The House on Mendocino Street-8

I’m posting late today. Woke up feeling yucky this morning and had to get my sick self to work. Took a nap when I got home. After, I got up, made dinner, ate, and cleaned up. So I’m feeling okay to write something this evening.

Four more days until Halloween.

PLEASE NOTE: This hasn’t been edited.

Hugs and chocolate,


You can follow the sequence  of the story below:









Maddie turned her van right, rounding the corner to Mendocino Street. A strange, bald man was going through her mailbox, pulling out her mail. Bob’s truck was gone.

She floored the gas pedal and raced toward her driveway, barely missing the guy.

The mail thief jumped out of the way, hands flailing in the air, mail flying everywhere. It most definitely wasn’t the mailman. Nor did he fit Niki’s description of an older man with bushy eyebrows.

Maddie shoved her stick shift into park, swung open the van door, and jumped out. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She dashed toward him, pulling out her cell phone. Her fingers fumbled out nine-one-one.

The man stepped back, tripping over his own feet, falling backwards. He rolled over onto all fours and got to his feet.

“Mommy!” Niki yelled from the large open living room window.

Maddie shot her eyes toward the window where her daughter stood alone.

The mail thief took this as his cue to run.

Maddie didn’t care and slapped her cell phone shut. Bob had left her daughter by herself. What was he thinking?


© Shelly Arkon 2013

Friday, October 25, 2013

The House on Mendocino Street-7

Hello again, everyone! Five more days until Halloween. I’m on scene seven. I’m doing my best to keep it at or under 300 words. I know everyone has other blogs to visit and writing of their own to do.

PLEASE NOTE: This has not been edited.

Have a lovely day, all.

Hugs and chocolate,


Below is where you can follow the sequence of this story:









Six weeks had passed. The closing on the house finalized. One more thing had been crossed of Maddie’s ‘to-do list’, leaving her with two major tasks: find a job closer to home and finish planning her wedding. Thoughts of such filled her her head daily, while making her two hour commute to and from work. But the later didn’t set right with her. Something was wrong. She stared at the red traffic light ahead.

Last night Bob bugged her again over the current sleeping arrangements. “Why can’t you sleep with me?” he asked, pressing himself into her. “Why do have to sleep in the room with her?”

Maddie moved his hands. They had moved in an off limits territory.“For one, we’re not married. And I need to set an example of how I would want my daughter to behave later on in life.” Maddie had a religious upbringing. Her parents frowned on her decision to move in with the guy before the wedding. But Bob insisted and the place belonged to her, too. She was the one who came to the table with down payment anyway.

“Look,” Bob’s voice switched to sounding irritated. “I’ve waited a whole year to make love to you.”


The television set in the Florida room flashed on, and the sound blared through the house. Within seconds, the stereo system came on with an ear piercing screech.

Bob let go of Maddie. “What is your daughter up to now?” He rubbed his face in a fast circular motion. A habit that irritated her along with his always blaming Niki for all the wonky things that happened in the house.

“Mommy! Mommy!” Niki yelled down the hallway. Her small silhouette stood at the mouth of it.

“Niki!” Maddie shouted back. The noise through the house was deafening.

Bob started toward her daughter. :You need to be taught a few things.” His hands moved around his belt.

Maddie rushed past him toward her daughter, and scooped up her small child. In her mind, no man would ever hurt daughter in any way, not even in discipline.

“Ed doesn’t like Mr. Bob,” Niki whispered to her mom.

The television and the stereo snapped off, leaving the house in a sudden, still silence.

© Shelly Arkon 2013

Thursday, October 24, 2013

The House on Mendocino Street-6

Hello again, everyone! Six more days until Halloween. I’m wondering if I’ll have some kind of ending to this story. I’m doing my best to keep it at or under 300 words. I know everyone has other blogs to visit and writing of their own to do.

PLEASE NOTE: This has not been edited.

Below is where you can follow the sequence of this story:






Thanks for visiting.

Hugs and chocolate, all,



Bob and the realtor had returned.

“Like I said, no one’s out there.” Bob’s voice boomed through the furnitureless house.

Maddie about jumped out of her skin hearing it and snapped her head around to find him standing a few feet away. The realtor wasn’t that far behind him. “Oh.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Bob’s mouth twitched and the vein in his neck throbbed. They were two warning signs that he was about ready to blow his top.

Niki clung to her mother tightly. She buried her face as deep as she could into where her mom’s tshirt and jeans met.

Maddie pressed her hand against the back of her daughter’s head, bracing them for one of his verbal explosions. He had jammed fisted hands to his hips, and his face had reddened.

“We’ll discuss this later.” Bob’s hands dropped at his sides. “We need to finish the walk through.” He glanced up at the ceiling. The black mist had moved.

Maddie blinked her eyes twice and it was gone.

The real estate agent rubbed his hands together like a fly. “You’re going to love the rest of the house.” He moved around Bob and headed toward a hallway to the right of the living room. “The bedrooms are very spacious.”

Bob sauntered over to Maddie and took her arm. “You almost look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” he whispered sarcastically to her, slipping his arm through hers. “ Do you think you can keep all imaginary friends at bay until we’re through.”. His blue-green, marble-like eyes glared down at Niki.

The little girl shuddered, letting go of her mom. She walked ahead of them following the realtor. Maddie and Bob went right behind her.

Everyone stopped at the first bathroom to the right of the hall. The faucet dripped and dripped.

“That’s strange,” the realtor said. “To my knowledge the water hasn’t been turned on.” He reached for the knob and turned it clockwise. The water continued dripping. He then tried turning it counterclockwise. Nothing but tiny drops plopped against the porcelain.

Bob walked toward the tub and turned the knobs. Nothing happened.. “That’s strange.”

© Shelly Arkon 2013

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

The House on Mendocino Street-5

Hey, everyone! This is the fifth scene of the story that I’m posting as I write. I’m doing my best to keep it at or under 300 words. It’s based on a true story. Mine. The names of people have been changed to protect the innocent. Also, this has not been edited so it’s not going to be perfect. I plan on expanding and polishing this later on for publication.

If you want to follow the sequence of this story click below:







Maddie reached for her daughter after Bob and the realtor went outside. “Come here, sugar.”

Arms spread wide, Niki dashed toward her mother. She wrapped her little arms around her mother’s small hips, and squeezed. “Mr. Bob’s mad at me.” She sobbed into her mother’s blue jeans.

“He just doesn’t understand. He’s never been married and has never had a child. That’s all.” Maddie loved her daughter and wanted everything to go well between Bob and her daughter. In the initial dating stage, he doted over her. But now that it got closer to the wedding date, it had changed.

“He’s grumpy all the time like daddy is.” Niki’s own dad drank himself into oblivion everyday. It made him mean. She visited him through the Department of Children and Families every other week for an hour.

Maddie rubbed her daughter’s back, pressing her closer into her. “It’ll be okay.” She really wanted it to be. She wanted happy and normal. Whatever that was. “I promise.”

A small black mist forming to the right of Maddie, caught her eye. She blinked like she did when waiting in her car. Must be visual floaters again. They were a constant nuisance

Niki lifted her head, glancing up at her mom.

The room chilled over, and a strange breeze passed by them. For a micro moment it rippled through Maddie’s hair, like someone had gently brushed it off her face. It sent shivers all through her.

Niki giggled, casting her gaze somewhere beyond her mother’s right hip.

Maddie watched her daughter’s eyes move. They were following something or someone. Probably Sylvia. Her daughter’s imaginary friend gave the child a sense of comfort.

“He’s here,” Niki said.

© Shelly Arkon 2013

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

The House on Mendocino Street

Hey, everyone! This is the fourth scene of the story that I’m posting as I write. I’m doing my best to keep it at or under 300 words. It’s based on a true story. Mine. The names of people have been changed to protect the innocent. Also, this has not been edited so it’s not going to be perfect. I plan on expanding and polishing this later on for publication.

If you want to follow the sequence of this story click below:





Maddie pulled her brows together. She had searched the Florida Department of Law Enforcement website the night before for pedophiles and sex offenders in the area. It showed twelve within a five mile radius. "What man?"

"A man?" Bob walked through what looked to be the dining room toward a Florida room covered in jalacy windows. He peered through one of the slats, scanning the backyard. A big black bird sat on the lowest branch of the large tree. “I don’t see anyone. You sure this isn’t a new imaginary friend, Niki?”

"His name is Ed," Niki said. “He’s not pretend. He’s real and  he pushed me on the rope hanging from the tree. Sylvia said she would do it. But didn't." She twisted a long strand of hair, wide-eyed looking at her mom. “He’s real, mommy. His head is bald. And he has really bushy eyebrows. And he smells like a candy cane.”

Bob chuckled.

Maddie’s considerations kept her from hearing either one, but she said to Bob, "Maybe you should go outside and check." She writhed her hands together. The thought of some sicko touching her daughter gave her a sick feeling.

Bob spun around, casting a steady gaze on Maddie. “She’s making it up for attention again. Why do you let her do this?”

A pasty lump formed in Niki’s throat. She tried swallowing but it wouldn’t go down.

Maddie cocked her brow. She didn’t want to argue in front of a complete stranger about her daughter’s need for imaginary friends. Nor did she want anyone to know her panic button had been pushed by the man her daughter said she saw. Besides, her daughter never told lies to get attention.

"Why don't we all go," the realtor suggested, sauntering to where Bob stood. "The backyard would be great for your little girl to play in."

"Not with some pedophile lurking about.”  Maddie couldn’t help but blurt her thought out. “Niki and I will stay right here.” She knew she never liked this real estate agent. There could be a psycho running lose and all he can think about are his pockets? Jerk.

© Shelly Arkon 2013

Monday, October 21, 2013

The House on Mendocino Street-Post 3

Hey, everyone! This is the third scene of the story that I’m posting as I write. I’m doing my best to keep it at or under 300 words. It’s based on a true story. Mine. The names of people have been changed to protect the innocent. Also, this has not been edited so it’s not going to be perfect. I plan on expanding and polishing this later on for publication.

If you want to follow the sequence of this story click below:



Have a chocolate-filled day while I’m at work loppity-lopping today.

Hugs and chocolate,



Finally, Bob and the realtor pulled into the drive next to Maddie’s mini van. They both came in the real estate agent’s Mercedes. That meant Bob’s pick-up probably broke down again.

Both men nodded a ‘hello’ to Maddie and got out of the car. They walked in front of the mini van.

Bob stopped and gazed through Maddie’s windshield, gesturing for her to hurry. The realtor rounded the north corner of the house toward the front door.

God, there he goes again acting like a traffic cop. Annoying as hell. Maddie got out of her mini van. “I’m coming.”

Bob shoved his hands into his blue jean pockets, looking around her. “Where’s the midget?” A smirk popped on his face.

“In the backyard.”

“Doing what?’

“Exploring.” Maddie waltzed passed him. She stuck her nose in the air. “Remember when you were six?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t aloud to explore.” Bob came up behind her quickly and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Exactly.” That’s your problem, Maddie thought, as she allowed him to nuzzle her neck. “How do you expect a child to grow up normal?”

“Are you saying I’m not normal?”

“We’ll discuss this later. I’m sure the realtor would like to get the show on the road.” Maddie peeled his hands from her waist and walked toward the open front door to the house.

The real estate angent stood in the middle of the large empty living room, peering out the wide front window.

As soon as Maddie’s shoes hit the threshold, a tingling sensation rushed through her, keeping her from going further in. A dark shadow washed over the yellowing walls. The realtor didn’t seem to notice.

Bob caught up to her, pressed his index finger into her back, and pushed her forward. “What are you doing?” His voice sounded agitated.

“Nothing.” Maddie moved into the house to get his finger off her back. She hated his tendency to prod her along in the public eye. It was degrading.

“What do you all think?” The realtor asked.

Bob clapped his hands and then rubbed them together. “Looks---“

What sounded like a back door slapping a wall came from the back of the house.

“Mommy! Mommy!” Niki yelled. She skipped into the living room. “The man in the back yard says I can call him Grandpa Ed.”

© Shelly Arkon 2013

Sunday, October 20, 2013

Another Entry: The House on Mendocino Street-Entry 2


For Halloween, I thought I ‘d write a short story based on a true story. Mine. Everyday, I will post as short an entry as possible. Hopefully, not over 300 words. Talk about discipline. NOTE: This is off the cuff so there will be mistakes. This is for fun. However, I will end up polishing it for publication eventually.

Hugs and chocolate to everyone,



Niki made a straight dash toward an opening between a broken chain link fence. Moldy leaves covered the ground of the backyard. The pungent smell clung to the insides of her nostrils.

She stopped in the middle, lifting her head. A giant tree towered over the house. It canopied the entire back of it, including half the roof. A rope dangled from it, beckoning her to swing from it.

The hairs on the back of the little girls neck stood on end. A sudden chill rushed through her, and she shivered, looking around the musty smelling yard. She saw no one.

“Come on, Sylvia,” Niki said out loud to no one apparently there. Her mommy said Syivia was only imaginary, but she believed differently. Her friend went everywhere she did.

A gentle breeze whirled a few leaves up and around in the air. Niki didn’t give it a thought even though it had been a still, hot Florida summer.She reached for Sylivia’s small hand and tugged her toward the dangling rope. “I’ll swing you, if you swing me.”

Niki grabbed the rope, pulled herself up onto it, and wrapped her small legs around it. She dangled from it, waiting for her friend to push her. “I thought you were going to push me.”

The wind whipped up again all around her, but like the first time she gave it no thought. The temperature had dropped to an unusual chill.  It made the skin on her arms break out in goose pimples while she waited for her imaginary friend to push her. “Come on, Sylvia.”

A large but firm, gentle hand touched her back, giving her one big push. “Hello, tiny miss,” a soft-spoken man said. “Does your mommy know where you are?”

© 2013 Shelly Arkon

Saturday, October 19, 2013

Writing Off the Cuff

Thought I’d write a short story off the cuff for Halloween, posting it as I go. So there will probably be mistakes.

The House on Mendocino Street is based on a true story. Mine. I once lived in a haunted house with my daughters. So I figured since this was Halloween month, I’d write a two or three or more part story.


The house didn’t look like much, an ugly grey Florida concrete home with a dirt yard to match. The only greenery was a pineapple palm growing close to the front door. The tree in the front yard drooped dead branches onto the roof. It was definitely not a candidate for anyone’s dream house.

Maddy couldn’t believe that she let her finance’ talk her into meeting a realtor to check out the dump. He had told her it was in foreclosure. By the looks of the house, she could understand why. It looks like a dump. But the house seemed to call to her. It had a familiar feeling about it even while she waited for her fiancĂ© and realtor to arrive.

“Mommy,” Niki said from the backseat. “Are we going to live here?”

Drumming her fingers along the steering wheel of her mini van, Maddy shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t know. Maybe.”

“When will Mr. Bob be here?”


“Can I go look in the backyard?”

Maddie found no problem with her daughter’s curiosity. Most six year olds were. “Sure. Just make sure you stay in it. Don’t go wandering around elsewhere.”

“Okay.”  Niki slid the the back passenger door open. “Mr. Bob won’t get mad at me, will he?”

“Don’t worry.” Maddie glanced over her shoulder and gave her daughter a small smile. She figured her finance’ needed to chill out when it came to her child. She hoped he would calm down about his parenting position after she married him. He took it too seriously. Too much on the strict side.

Niki hopped out of the van, ran to the front of it, stopped, turned, and waved at her mother.

Maddie waved back and watched her daughter skip around the corner on the south side of the house. After, she cast her gaze at her twenty dollar wristwatch she bought at Wal Mart a couple months ago.

Out of the corner of her eye a dark silhouette crossed in front of the garage door. She blinked her eyes twice thinking she had floaters crossing her vision for moment. Or am I seeing things. The shadow rounded the same corner her daughter did, but she dismissed it.

© Shelly Arkon 2013

Anyone else writing anything off the cuff for the world to see? I’ve been tinkering with the idea since I wrote an essay for another blog a while back. Anyone get story ideas from writing your blog?

Hugs and chocolate,


Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Bullies and Bad Bosses

Today, is Thank Your Wonderful Boss Day-something like that. Its been all over the news this morning, and so has the girl who committed suicide because of two completely insensitive girls-bullies who have taken that word to a whole new level. Two unremorseful souls. This reminds me that its Something-Something-National-About-Bullies-Month.

In my opinion,we should have a public hanging for bullies for a month and call it, It Sucks to be a Bully this Month. As for  Thank Your Wonderful Boss Day, there are more terrible ones than good. At least that’s my experience. I can personally count on one hand how many fantabulous bosses I’ve had and it doesn’t even reach a total five.

Anyway, my really big bully issues began in high school. Honestly, I have no clue why the mean-herd-mentality hit the group of boys and girls I had to share classrooms, hallways, and a cafeteria with for nine months out of the year for four long horrid years.

What was their purpose to stand in parallel rows in the school hallway like someone was going to pop some rad Soul Train move toward the next class? Well … actually … they were waiting for me. I was the star of those moves. All I wanted to do was get to the next period.

Each kid would push up their nose and snort as I walked down their Aisle of Torment, amongst other things their sick adolescent  minds could think of -which brings me to the day of gym class. While in the shower, the girls- not all, only the bullies- decided to take my school uniform and shoes. They put them in the toilet and took turns urinating and defecating on them. Talk about humiliation. Wrapped in a towel, I sat for four hours in the girl’s locker room waiting for my mom to come with another outfit and shoes.

So when I hear someone killed themselves over a group of insensitive morons. It leaves me wishing for a It Sucks to Be a Bully Month. Since a public hanging is probably out of the question, why not post their faces and the cruel things they’ve done to another human being for the entire world to see like they do sex offenders and pedophiles? Maybe they would think twice about what they post on social networks about someone else. PLEASE NOTE: I remember yours faces and names. I’ve never forgotten and probably never will. Wonder if you people are in positions to bully others in the work place. It wouldn’t surprise me.

This brings me to my next topic: Bad Bosses. They were probably your high school bullies. I say this because they have no problem being insensitive to others. PLEASE NOTE: I know this last statement isn’t true of  ALL bosses. So I don’t mean all. But to be honest, I’ve had more bad ones than good.

Over the years, I’ve been threatened, insulted, and lied about while the owners of these certain establishments turned their heads. All aspects of bullying really needs to stop. We’re all here to go through a journey. Life is tough enough without a bunch of monstrous people bashing others. It’s wrong even if their in a superior position.

In The Partners’ Progeny, Monica Bowman is the new girl at a lawfirm and seems to withstand attacks from Victoria Sheek, her supervisor and the daughter to one of the partners, until…. well, check it out on Amazon. It’s a short read at 99 cents, close to 6000 words with five 5 star reviews.

The Partner's Prodigy

US Amazon

UK Amazon

Actually, its available for all countries on Amazon.

And before I go, I wanted give a shout out to PK Hero. Hay! Ho! She’s a got a cover for her up and coming book.

Butterman600x900 cover

It’s lovely. Don’t you think? Anyway, her cover is everywhere today.

Ever been bullied?

Hugs and chocolate,


Saturday, October 12, 2013

We Create Our Own Demons

We create our own demons. Ironman 3, Robert Downey, Jr.

This quote got to me. Not to mention, the movie itself did, too. Ironman, 3. It didn’t help that I’ve been doing a lot of self reflection about … well … my life in general. The past. The present. The future.

What gets me about my life … is that it seems that certain scenes play over from the past but with a different flavor, and sometimes on steroids. Decisions I made thirty years ago … like marrying a drug addict-but I had no clue at the time. But I did make three decisions to have daughters with him when I knew what he was, hoping for the best, of course … that some how life would become magically delicious. But it never did.

Oh and then, I married again. The bags under hubby number 2 eyes foretold tale tell signs of an alcoholic. I should have listened to my little voice on that one. But of course, I ignored it. Six years and two more daughters later, he left us in the middle of the night so he could have years of fun without us.

My do we create our own demons. Never in my life did I ever expect any of my daughters to follow in either of their fathers’ footsteps. Nor did I ever think any of my grandbabies would ever be in peril. And if they were, never did I ever think for one second that my hands would be tied.

Anyway, I really suggest y’ll watch the movie Ironman III. It’s action packed and full of meaningful lines that will make you think.

Hope everyone has been well.

Hugs and chocolate,


Thursday, October 3, 2013

Going Away

Hey, everyone:

I’ll be taking an internet break until next Saturday, October 12th. The family drama has exhausted me. So I need to take some time to regroup and rethink all blogging and writing goals.

Hope everyone stays well.

Hugs and chocolate,


Sunday, September 29, 2013

What I’ve Discovered About Myself and Other Things in the Midst of Crazy

I’ve been trying different things to keep my writing life going while I go through all the craziness surrounding my grandbaby. And I’ve learned quite bit.

1. Early, early morning hours are best for me to write. I need the quiet. I’m too pooped to think straight in the evening.

2. Cleaning one room a day keeps the germs and dust bunnies away. I can do this after baby goes to bed for the night. It’s mindless versus writing, of course.

3. I can fit in a walk anytime. Preferably, I do it before baby goes to sleep. But the Sweetman says, “It doesn’t make sense to take baby out in the stroller since you’ve already given him a bath. It makes his feet stinky.” But the night air helps to put baby to sleep. Besides, who is going to smell his feet under blankets? Ghosts?

4. One cannot depend on babysitters. It doesn’t matter how old they are.

5. The saying about true friends … um …what was that saying? Anyway, the real ones stick around and help you out. Other than that, everyone else, including your family, runs and hides.

6. The State is truly insane. I won’t even go into detail. It would take too long to explain. Just know if you’re a natural MORON, you could get a job with this establishment with no problem.

Before I go, here’s a diddy from Killer Stilettos:

“What’s going on out there?” I had to ask even though I already knew the answer to my question.

The guy set the tray onto the small table, removed the silver cover from the tray, and tucked it under his arm. He reached for the silverware rolled in a white cloth napkin. “Someone offed Nurse Holly,” he whispered, and handed me a fork. “Clunked her in the head and then suffocated her with a pillow. But don’t tell anyone I told you that.”

“I won’t.” Wide-eyed, I took it from him and poked at the yellow scrambled eggs piled in the upper half of my plate. Mind you, my appetite at this point was pretty knell. “Any idea who would do such a thing?” A picture of a faceless, curvaceous woman flashed into my mind. Like a strange a silent movie, Oshun flashed into it next, twirling around in her bright yellow dress being greeted by my mom. They both shook hands. My stomach did its strange intuitive tweak and a chill shivered through me.

“Hey!” the food service guy said. “Rumor has it she had a jealous boyfriend.” Spittle flew out of his mouth when he pronounced the ‘f’. Some fell into my breakfast plate and the rest dribbled down the bright read zits scattered on his chin. I couldn’t help but think about all the germs that had now showered my food. The seen and unseen.

I blinked my eyes two times at him trying to keep my cool over his spit and Nurse Holly being found dead. “Oh.” But last night’s episode with Oshun before Julio and I astral projected flipped into my head. She almost succeeded in strangling me before Gram appeared. Thank God, Gram came when she did or I would be a dead psychic-medium along with the nurse.

“You okay? You’re not afraid are you?” the guy asked, giving me a quirky grin, even though concern creased his blemished forehead. Thankfully, he swiped the dangling drool from his chin with his hairy bare arm before it landed in my orange juice. It would’ve been a straight shot. Totally grody.

I shook my head and picked up a piece of toast cut into long triangles. With my cloth napkin, I wiped it off before I nibbled on the crust. Hopefully, cleaning it off cured it from any airborne germs that may have landed on it. There was no way I could wipe my scrambled eggs clean. The soft texture probably already absorbed this dude’s saliva. The thought made my insides cringe, and I put my piece of toast down.

The guy scratched at his greasy hair stuffed in a black net. I couldn’t tell if his hair was black or brown. Grease had a way of making everything look darker than it really was. “Anyway, everyone around here knew she was doing one of the doctors in the broom closet daily.” Now, he was giving me way too much information. I had grown to like Nurse Holly in the small amount of time I had gotten to know her in. It’s not like I needed to know her personal stuff.

Hope you enjoyed this. Now, I’ve got to get ready for a day of loppity-loppings.

Hugs and chocolate,


PS November 1st, I’m releasing another short and needs help announcing. Let me know in the comments below if you’re interested.

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Sometimes God Throws Us Baby-sized Curve Balls More Than Once


Hey, everyone! I know I’ve been MIA lately. A lot has happened since I last posted here. The state is now involved with my grandson. For now, I’m considered temporary shelter for the Glowstick. But I’m also looking at retaining custody of him.

Last week, I managed a 1000 words on Killer Stilettos. I’m working on the ending. I also have another short I want to release, but I’m finding it hard to find TIME to do it.

And I’ve barely gotten around to read other blogs. Apologies. I feel like a rat turd and I think I’m losing my Wonder Woman status.

Hugs and chocolate,


Sunday, July 28, 2013

This Week

The next three days I’ll be hanging with the Glowstick. So you won’t see me around until about Thursday.


Hugs and chocolate,


Thursday, July 25, 2013

Another Book is About to be Born

Today, I wanted to help spread the news for blogger, Siv Ottem. Her debut novel, Secrets of the Ash Tree, is about to be birthed. The due date is September 1st. But first she’ll be revealing the cover, on Monday, July 29th, in an ultrasound-sort-of-way. It’s a secret. GO HERE FOR MORE INFORMATION

Here’s the Blurb:

In the realm of the gods and fairy tales the mystery of life is an endless path with many secrets to be discovered. Some secrets are like dreams, just waiting in darkness hoping to get into the light.

“Secrets of the Ash Tree” is the story about Liv, a young woman who discovers her true nature through the unraveling of hidden secrets. Her adventures begin when she digs up a chest that was buried by her father under the old ash tree in her garden. What she finds inside the chest changes her life forever. Liv discovers one secret after another and is thrown into a world full of dangerous and strange creatures, mighty Norse warriors and perils beyond her belief. What started out as a fairy tale in her father’s journal was to become her legacy, a guide line to survival, and a map to the world she was about to enter. Each day, each mystery, each encounter will ultimately reveal her true destiny and behind the edge of a sword awaits a young god who is willing to share that destiny with her.


I wanted to write a little more on my blog today, but I’ve got to get ready for work soon. I also know I’ve slacked in my blog reading lately. Got my grandson again part time. Found some great critique partners. And got a beta-reading going on.

Hopefully, I’ll get a handle on everything.

Hugs and chocolate,


Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Indie Life: Things I Miss and Irk Me


Today is the second Wednesday of the month. Its Indie Life time, where Indies sometimes encourage, support, complain, and give advice to each other.

For more information or to be a part of this group GO HERE

As many of you know, Sweetman went through a bout of cancer and chemo. Thankfully, he has finished his chemo. His hair and belly are now growing back. But when we first found out about what we were going to have to go through, I gave up what I thought would be temporary, my bi-weekly critique group.

Sadly, two of the writers were stressed out with some of their own personal curve balls life bombarded them with. One moved away. The other doesn’t know if she’ll ever write again. We no longer meet.

I miss them terribly. We were together for five years. Each gal had something great to offer to our WIPs. One had awesome grammar and punctuation skills, while one would tear your MS apart and analyze it. Two of them were great for spotting overuse of words or even action tags. And one was great at finding symbolism in your stories and how to make them connect.

I considered them my friends. But only one keeps in touch with me. It really makes me sad. To be honest, I feel lost without them. All writers, Indies, and traditionally published need someone else to bounce their stuff off of. There’s no real way around it. You can’t cheat when you write. It’s a tedious path to get it right.

So I could really use a couple of critique partners who are willing to read 40 pages a month of my current WIP, tear it apart, and I’d be glad to the same in kind.

Anyone interested? If so, let me know in the comment box.

As to what irks me, well, Facebook right now. I’m in what’s called what other writers have referred to as Facebook Jail. I can’t PROMOTE myself or anyone.

How did this happen, you ask. Well, it started with a Like-a-thon. I like authors. They like me. And of course, I can’t forget all the promoting I continually do for other authors. I’m constantly sharing their books and blogs. So I got cited as a SPAMBOT.

So yeah, I’m really blue over not having my critters anymore and being known as a SPAMBOT.

Hope everyone else is well.

Hugs and chocolate,


Friday, July 5, 2013



My book, Secondhand Shoes is up for an award over at eFestival of Words, in the Mainstream Fiction section. I was totally floored when I got the word. And whoever nominated my book, thank you.

I need your vote. It shouldn’t be too hard to do. Just don’t pay attention to all of the adds toward the end.

The complete list of finalists, and all voting polls, can be found in the
Awards Hall.

Hugs and chocolate,


Monday, July 1, 2013

INDIE-pendence: Lorelei Bell, Eve Gaal, and Lisa Olsen


I know I’m posting this early, but I have to work tomorrow. And some of Wednesday will be spent with a friend, and the 4th of July will be spent with the Sweetman.



INDIE-pendence is a bloghop where we can promote our favorite Indie author and their book or books. But since I’ve discovered three that I really like, I’m going to share all three and hope that no one’s eyes glaze over.

My first favorite is Lorelei Bell, a paranormal fantasy writer.She writes the Sabrina Strong Series and recently self-published The Spell of the Black Unicorn. And soon she’ll be publishing her series on her own.

Originally, I had each author prepare an interview. But I’m beginning to believe my Gmail eats files that I save. ***shrugs*** So instead I’ll post their titles and links.

Back to Lorelie Bell. The following are her self-published works:

Spell of the Balck Unicorn

Click here to buy

holy devil

Click here to buy

vampire my own

Click here to buy

My next favorite author is the adorable, Eve Gaal, a romantic comedy author. She’s sweet and funny and is the mom of a cute little fur-peep named Fiona. Recently, she self-published Penniless Hearts.

penniless hearts bookcover

Click here to buy

My third favorite is Lisa Olsen, a paranormal/mystery/suspense/thriller writer. She published 10 books in 2 years and has more to come.

Her titles include The Touch, Pretty Witches all in a Row, and Mercy for the Wicked. You can find her books here

I hope everyone has a Happy Fourth!

Hug and chocolate,



Hey, everyone! Today is the day, The Partners’ Progeny is being released for Kindle only.

The Partner's Prodigy

Bullies rule … or do they?
For seventeen years, Victoria Sheek has been a paralegal supervisor at the Law Offices of Pereene, Carr, and Sevino, specializing in injury law. Rumors portray her as a bully. She remains confident that her position will never cease because of close relations to one of the founding partners, Mr. Carr.
Until Mr. Pereene, the head partner, hires Monica Bowman. Smitten with her because of her resemblance to his deceased granddaughter, Melissa, and his memories of her, she can do no wrong.
Which one of the two girls will keep their position at the firm? It takes an unexpected event to decide the outcome of this rivalry.

Available for all countries

Please  Tweet and Facebook this. Thank you.


Also, Authors for Oklahoma have book bundles up for 10 dollar donations to The American Red Cross, for Moore, Oklahoma. We’ve set it up raffle-style. It will run through July 15, 2013. Please spread the word.

First group of bundles can be found at the link below:

Second group of bundles can be found at the link below:

You can also find Authors for Oklahoma Here . Likes are nice, but that’s not why we formed the group. We want people to spread the word and donate.

Hugs and chocolate,


Wednesday, June 26, 2013

CONTEST!!!! Giveaway, and a Diddy

Authors for Oklahoma have their first set of bundles up for their giveaway. Peeps are to make 10 dollar donations into the Crowdrise link, which helps us keep track of who is donating. And they need to state in the comment box what bundles they would like to be drawn for.***GO HERE FOR THE GIVEAWAY


I finally figured out how to put a page together at FaceBook. Yay! I’m so proud of myself.

Anyway, if you wish, you can go and LIKE me at Author Shelly Arkon Books and Stories. You can also find details on how to win a signed copy of Secondhand Shoes.



Killer Stilettos is the next book in the Lila’s Journey Series. Its coming along nicely. I’m working on the rewrites and connecting the dots. Not to mention, some of my characters are revealing some mysteries about themselves.

I thought I’d share a diddy:

Out of my right peripheral, something dark but transparent moved.

“Um…no.” I swallowed a hard lump along with another hiccup, squeezing his hand. “Can we go back to my room now? Please.”

“Mi amor, its okay. They’re dead. They’re not going to hurt us.”

Something clamored to the floor. It sounded like someone had dropped a pot.

I jumped, but it didn’t seem to faze Julio. He pulled us deeper into the room.

Another shadow crossed over my vision. It had an obvious head, neck, torso, arms, and legs. What ever it was, it wasn’t a deceased person.

The crowd of phantoms grew thicker around us.

“What do mean?” Julio cupped my chin and gently pulled my face toward his.

Crappity-crap-crap-crap. “Don’t you see them?” My hiccups were coming on steady.

“See what?” Julio pulled us between two body bags laying on separate tables. “All I see are body bags.”

More dark figures appeared, they were surrounding us. Somewhere beyond the double doors, the sound of heels clicked slowly against the tile. The noise stabbed my eardrums.

My stomach did its intuitive pinch while a pair of bright yellow stilettos flashed into my head. “We’re in trouble.” It didn’t help my mom’s face popped into it next and then Oshun’s. I hiccupped against his lips. “We need to go now.”

The heels clicking against the floor stopped.

I glanced over my shoulder.

The large double doors we had passed through, flew open. Oshun appeared all wild-haired dressed in a tight-fitting yellow dress, standing in a pair of bright yellow stilettos.


I hope everyone is well. I’ve been busy. I’ve barely been around to read blogs. Apologies. A lot going on. But Sweetman is doing much better. And thank you all for your prayers and well wishes. August, he’ll be going for his scans to see if he has stayed cancer free.

Hugs and chocolate,


Saturday, June 22, 2013

Twister and a BookRaffle

“Get over here!” mom screamed from the pit of her stomach. Her arms flailed from underneath the kitchen table, while my little sister sobbed hysterically, and my brother rocked in a corner.

I wanted to obey, but I had never seen a twister before. Our small mobile home sounded as if a million tuna cans were being shot out of a ga-zillion cannons every second toward us. The sky outside the sliding doors was a watery grey- green color. Wind had picked up everything swirling it round and round into a funnel. I  had never seen anything like it in all my nine years of life.

As suddenly as it had started, it had stopped. Our trailer went unscathed, but the homes around us had either been rolled or tossed into the near-by cow pasture. Not to mention, several dead cows littered the mobile home park.

For some reason, God protected us that day. I really have no clue why either. But unfortunately, a lot of people don’t get spared the grief of losing everything.

Lately, it seems every time I turn on the television there’s a flood or a fire ravaging peoples’ homes somewhere in America. The devastation seems to be happening everywhere.

Right after Moore, Oklahoma was hit hard by a tornado, William Kendall, Norma Beishir, and myself put together Authors for Oklahoma. We put together a book giveaway for donations to The American Red Cross.

Many new and Indie authors donated their books for this cause. There is a plethora of genres: mysteries, erotica, and paranormal to name a few. We even have some children and mommy books. Click here for the Authors of Oklahoma fundraiser.

And also, please pass this info to your friends and family.

Hugs and chocolate,


Saturday, June 15, 2013

Creepers, Stalkers, and Serial Killers

It was a Friday evening. Shelly lounged on her sofa in front of her television set, computer in lap, and Sir Poops to the right of her laying on his favorite pillow with Hair Ball on her other side. While networking, a message popped up.

“Thank you for accepting my friend request.”

Shelly found it surprising that someone actually said ‘thank you’ for such a thing. It really caught her attention. It’s a rare treat when another author shows gratitude by simply writing a polite note back. So she responded back:

“You’re welcome. Thank you for the note.”

At that point Shelly thought that would be the end of this little conversation, but she got another message.

“Hey, I’d really like to get to know you. I’m a writer. I’ve been working on my book for the last seven years.”

Shelly sees no harm in this and writes back.

“It took me four years to write mine. I’m the author of Secondhand Shoes, a paranormal romance/suspense/thriller. I’ve also got a short story coming out on July 1, 2013, for Kindle only, The Partners’s Progeny.”

Another message pops up.

“So how do you cope with your kids and husband?”

Shelly thought this a little strange, but answered anyway.

“I write. I’m really busy working right now. Later, dude.”

But another message pops up.

“So what are you working on?”

Shelly was getting annoyed now.


Once again, the guy answers.

“I’m working on a book about marketing. How does that work for authors?”

Shelly sees this as a plausible question and answers.

“For Indie authors, we scratch each others’ backs. We promote each other.”

The creeper answers back.

“When do you ever have time for romance? Would you like to be caressed by a real man?”

Shelly ignores this and in a panic looks how to delete and block this jerk. And another message pops up.

“I’m going to the pub now. We’ll chat later. Okay?”

This is a true story, folks. I’ve had this happen on more than one occasion. And yes, he’s been deleted and blocked. But before doing this, I went to his page to see what he was up to. Everyone he’s befriended is a female. A lot of them authors. CREEPY-STALKER-SERIAL KILLER OF AUTHORS, PERHAPS?

One of his comments stated, he was lonely and in need of a good woman. And yet in another one he stated, he was sick of his possessive girlfriend. He also had several provocative poses of himself for a middle-aged adult.

I  know a lot of times I’m so busy doing something else when I accept a request. From now on, I’ll be a little more choosey who I’ll except. It’s not like I want to meet Ted Bundy or the Craig List Killer re-incarnated.

Anyone else have this happen to them?

Hugs and chocolate,


Wednesday, June 12, 2013

The Indie Life: Marketing Recipes

IndieLife7sm-1_zpsc2f25a77 The second Wednesday of the month is time for The Indie Life, hosted by, The Indelibles. It’s a lot like Alex J. Cavanaugh’s Insecure Writer’s Group, where we spill our guts or not to each other. Or encourage each other or not.

Today, I’m not sure what I’m going to write, other than wing it. OMG! I drive myself crazy, but it is who I am. I’m a bonefied winger (if this is actually a word). Always going with the flow. Going to where ever fate and destiny may take me, which brings up the topic of MARKETING. ***eyes roll*** Currently, Secondhand Shoes is rocking in the waves of millions and millions of books. Hopefully, it won’t become a sinking ship.

But how much is too much marketing? Is there such a thing as too much? Everyday I’m bombarded via the social media by other authors. It causes me anxiety. The last thing I want to be is an annoying pain who can’t get past a comment box without saying ‘LIKE ME’, ‘FOLLOW ME’ and ‘BUY MY BOOK, DAMN YOU.” There has to be a better way of doing this. What happened to relationships?

Any suggestions?


Like there has to be a better way of doing housework and keeping up with the dust bunnies. We, Indies, have a lot of hats to wear. At least, I know I do. I’m a hairdresser for thirty hours a week. A wife. A cook. A laundry maid. Some where in all of this, I write. Don’t ask me how I do it because I haven’t a clue. I just do. ***shrugs***

But I remember asking my grandmother years back how she kept her house so clean even though she worked full time for an attorney. She told me, she cleaned one room a day. So that’s what I’ve been doing. It’s been working out really well so far. Each room gets a top to bottom clean. Baseboards and all. One room can take up to an hour. Sometimes less.


So all of this marketing, writing, hairdressing, and house cleaning leaves me hungry for chocolate. Brownies come to mind. Speaking of which, have you ever added a can of pumpkin and two tablespoons of chocolate syrup to a box of brownie mix? You skip the egg and oil and bake this delightful confection at 350 for twenty minutes. They’re quite yummy, actually. I like to put a little nutmeg and cinnamon in mine.

But if you want something a little more nutritious, you can try my favorite smoothie:

1/2 Cup frozen blueberries

1/2 Cup plain Greek yogurt

1 Cup Almond or skim milk

Handful of baby kale

1/4 Cup oatmeal

2 tbsp. of Flax meal

Blend it in a blender and drink up!


Soon and very soon, Authors for Oklahoma, will be having a giveaway for 10 dollar donations to The American Red Cross for Moore, Oklahoma. A plethora of wonderful authors have donated their books to this, and I hope everyone will come and even help spread the word when we’ve got a date.

William Kendall, Norma Beishir, and myself have been working hard to get this going. So stay tuned for more information.

Hugs and chocolate, all!