KevaD's Blog, page 7

Zapocalypse – The Midnight Special by D. Dye

Who knew that two lesbians stranded in some hick-ass town deep in the swamps of southern Georgia would become local legends, heroes in their own right? Gina and Ginger sure as hell didn't.
But that's exactly what they became on the night of The Midnight Special.
Battling redneck hypocrites on a nightly basis at the diner was bad, but battling those same inbreds turned zombie was a whole different breed of stupid. Yet with their iPods jacked up and blasting Creedence Clearwater Revival, that's just what they're doing: kicking some serious zombie ass!
With half the town looking out their backdoors and the other half dreading that bad moon a'rising, Gina realizes she and Ginger have been thrust into a fight for the town as well as their lives.
Excerpt:

Zapocalypse – The Midnight SpecialBy D. Dye
Ginger and I had feuded with our neighbors for what felt like eons, though it's only been the few months we've lived here. Why here, in this fine-ass (pfft!) municipality of Ewahitchka, Georgia? Because when Ginger threw the dart at our dorm's big wall-map, the damned thing landed here. And, on the Monday after graduation, so did we.We'd packed up our beloved collection of the best damned horror movies of all time. Movies like The Creature from the Black Lagoon, The Birds, Friday the Thirteenth and of course, The Night of the Living Dead. The real one, the one that was black and white and still raised chill bumps.When we rolled into town, the first thing I'd said was, "They're coming for you Gingerrr!" She slapped my shoulder. But the town had that feel. That great-grandparents' hometown kinda feel. Everything was so dated. Stale. Like it had died a long time ago.But we'd planned financially for x number of miles and were running on fumes. Until we'd worked a few months and stashed more traveling money, our options were limited.The two brutes in the apartment above the one next door were named Butch and Sundance. Really. I pictured their dads getting drunk together during a Western movie marathon. These two backwoods rednecks couldn't grasp our need to see the country first hand; they bragged—leering—they'd never needed to even cross the county line to find what they wanted. Nope, they were bred and born here, were related to every other body in town, and knew who was knocked up before the doctor did.When Ginger and I moved in, those boneheads immediately set about trying to get in our pants. On our second night in our new place, they'd brought over a case of Old Milwaukee, their beer bellies, and way too much hope, judging from the pack of condoms sticking out of the front pocket of Butch's overalls.We didn't even open the door.A few days later, snickering together at what their faces must look like, Ginger and I lounged on our semi-private patio in our skimpiest bikinis and took our own sweet time massaging in one another's tanning lotion. Of course, we ended up in a heated make-out session. When I stripped off Ginger's suit and the men got a good look at her tawny muff, they probably drooled enough to fill a hot tub in the landlady's apartment beneath.Knowing we had a jealous audience was secretly really turning me on. The fact that Ginger was mine, and those two bohemians could only watch—fuck yeah, that got me wet. Ginger winked and spread those silken thighs wide as she thrust her perky, rose-colored nips skyward.They say a picture is worth a thousand words. They're wrong. That picture was worth a million!When I slowly encircled said nip with the tip of my tongue, rolling the little perfection to firmness, I heard multiple moans. Count Ginger's as one and I could guess where the others came from. But when I began gently nipping the taut buds and caught Ginger's heady scent, any thoughts of others just vanished.Hell, I was squeezing my own thighs together in harmony with Ginger's gyrating hips. While I made oral love to her ample tits, I walked my fingers down her belly, then farther still through her perfectly coiffed thatch. The ginger-hued hairs glistened like magic under the falling sun.Creedence Clearwater Revival's Pagan Baby was softly playing as the late-summer wind caressed my own bared skin.Could life get any better than this?Just as I started kissing my way down Ginger's lithe body, a huge bubbling-wet belch erupted, stopping me dead in my tracks.Disgust iced my hot fantasy of being watched while I fucked Ginger. I looked up to see Butch on his balcony, wiping his mouth with a meaty forearm and flipping a chicken bone into the golden sky. Beside him, Sundance gaped at us, his beer-bottle nudging his mouth like an eager brown cock.We flipped them off and huffed inside, but not before Ginger shot off something along the lines of pinkie-pricked inbreds.Ever since, the guys had worked hard to make our lives hell. First by accidentally backing over our garbage can. Then by deflating our tires, which we couldn't prove. But we knew it was them.But the real kicker? As much as those two inbred assholes might hate the notion of living next door to two lesbians, it sure as fuck didn't stop them from peeping on us any chance they got. The pervs.Of course, half the town shot us the side-eye whenever our shifts at the diner coincided, as if thinking we would just break out and start getting jiggy right on the spot. We'd kinda figured when we moved into this shotgun town we might end up the center of attention for a bit.Between Ginger's bright red hair and my own blonde-streaked black, we'd always stood out in a crowd. Mainly Ginger, with her curvaceous body, bright hair, green eyes, and snappy attitude, versus my borderline Goth look and rather snarly attitude, or so everyone kept telling me. Personally, I called it truthful, and if people couldn't take that and called me snarly, it wasn't my damn problem. Geesh. Ginger liked to call it our chance to educate the less fashion-fortunate. It was more than that. It was our challenge to their attitude that as Ewahitchka went, so went the world.Such was life anywhere, I supposed. Some dickhead would always be ready to cause trouble. Experiencing this gorgeous countryside was worth dodging a few snipes here and there.
* * * * *
The diner's bell jangled, goosing my nerves and oh, did I have a headache building. The all-night movie-and-sex marathon had been fun, but damn was I paying for it now. I'd gotten off yesterday and gone home to find Ginger curled up on the sofa and waiting for me with two cold ones, a large bowl of popcorn and three of the latest horror releases. Color me stupid, but curling up with Ginger while escaping into the world of trolls, banshees and vampires, had seemed like heaven on earth.  Feeling like hell the next day—today—hadn't even crossed my mind. Raucous admiration broke out all around. I glanced over my shoulder, although I didn't need to; the catcalls told me it was Ginger, arriving to start her shift.If we hadn't been desperate for work, we would have been right back out the door the second we'd laid eyes on the skimpy uniforms—Daisy Duke shorts and white, low-cut, eyelet-lace blouses paired with outlandish red cowboy boots. But beggars couldn't be choosers, and this job paid the bills. Barely. Truthfully, the way Ginger filled hers out, and the fact I got to watch her working in it . . . well, that almost made the sleaze-to-please uniform worthwhile.The fact that Ginger wore her sheerest bra tonight only added to her appeal; I could just make out her areolas. Her tips would be good tonight. I could scarcely take my eyes off the mouthwatering visuals.As if she sensed the intense scrutiny, Ginger blushed. Because I knew her contours so well, though, I saw the slight shadows where her nipples hardened.I shook my head, trying to clear the images of the previous evening from my mind. Of Ginger sprawled out across our bed, spread eagle like the most bountiful of buffets. Her trimmed mound and glistening labia just beckoned to be orally adored, and oh, how I had adored. I knew I could never get enough of Ginger's unique scent or taste, like spiced honey, sweet with a hint of the exotic.My nipples knotted painfully. Um, yeah, now was so not the time to remember last night. I focused a moment on Alice, the other waitress, who was a font of wisdom to anyone unfortunate enough to get trapped into listening to it.On weekdays, when the factory kept workers until eight at night, the blue-haired crowd predominated and the wolf-whistles weren't so bad. On weekends, Bob opened the back room, where the pool tables were, and the diner became more of a bar. A few beers made these good ole boys belligerent and brazen. As Alice put it, all the good sense their mommas had beaten into them up and flew the coop."Hey, baby, how's the evening going?" Ginger asked while marrying the ketchups."Typical shit, new night." I shot back a few Tylenol, praying it would relieve the monster headache gathering weight at my temples.Two infernal chimes alerted me that my orders were up. Ginger's slap on my ass, however, brought about a smug smile as I sauntered over to collect the food. Ginger knew how to wring a smile out of me, no matter what.Man, but how did I ever got so lucky as to find Ginger? I would never know, but I thanked the karma gods for looking out for me every day.
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HC Brown on Normalcy, BDSM, and her MM novel "Lord and Master"

HC Brown is a bestselling author in a variety of genres. Simply put... the woman can write. Now, HC likes to think she isn't normal, whatever that means. I captured this pic when she wasn't looking. Decide for yourself.

Okay. That's not really HC Brown. But I'm so jealous of the woman's talent I couldn't help myself. In truth, I envision her more like the picture below.


Thanks for stopping by, and I hope you enjoy this brief glimpse into the mind of HC Brown.



Over the past few months, I've received some very personal questions regarding my lifestyle.Okay, I admit, I'm not "normal" -thank God! How boring to be "normal".My mind insists I'm twenty-one, it's just my body that looks old.How did I become involved in writing gay BDSM? What triggers that particular desire in a happily married woman?To be honest, I have no idea. BUT, I love writing gay BDSM. At first, I had the impression, like most, that the D/s relationship was one of pain and suffering.  After meeting and discussing various forms of BDSM with those men who enjoy such sports, my entire world exploded into a realm of stories. The loving, respectful partnerships I've witnessed were a far cry from the stereotype D/s we see in movies etc.Respect and trust is the basis of any BDSM relationship and often glossed over by many writers.  Today society is slowly becoming acceptable of the fact that everyone of us is unique, with our own thoughts and decisions.  As consenting adults, don't we have the right to love whomever we chose?Alas, in Georgian England life was a little different to what we enjoy today.My new release, Lord & Master came about after reading some English, Georgian era court cases. I enjoyed researching the Georgian era in the U.K. So many stories are set in the Regency period, and yet so many historical events happened in the world during the Georgian period. England was at constant war, the American War of Independence, the destruction of the Scottish Clans at Culloden during the uprising, to name but a few. The Georgian era sparked the Anti-Sodomite Movement, a time when the mere accusation of sodomy was enough for a life sentence in Newmarket Prison or a trip to the hangman.  This being the case, a man might show his affection toward another (man) in public by an imperceptible brush of his sleeve or a hooded gaze across the dinner table.My story is about these times of forbidden love.Lord & Master
Blurb: Lord Reynold Wilton, fearing exposure after a public argument with his sex slave, Lord David Litchfield, leaves England for the Americas. On his return, he finds his delicious man in the hands of a brutal sadist. In a time when homosexuality is a hanging offense, Reynold must use every trick in the book to regain the possession and trust of his young lover.  Excerpt:Prologue
London 1769
A rush of pain radiated from Lord Reynold's clenched teeth and into his temples. The burn from over exertion raged across his shoulders. His sweaty grip slipped on the leather handle of the cane, a narrow strip of birch he had commissioned especially for discipline. With lust, he gazed down at his slave, savoring the crisscrossed, red welts marking the porcelain flesh, the raised prints of his hand on each tender buttock. He bent over the slim figure tied so deliciously on the bench, and licked each crimson cut, using his mouth to soothe and caress. Reynold lapped, enjoying the taste of sweet skin, the rise of gooseflesh under his tongue. The man's scent of soap mingled with the warm aroma of male sex filled his nostrils.With the man tied this way, stretched out with both arms and legs secured, Reynold had complete control. The power of dominance surged through him. In truth, he could easily draw blood with his cane if he chose to, yet he loved this man and gave his slave what he craved. This session had been different from those long nights of bliss they'd enjoyed so often before. He needed to conquer his slave, to take back his role as master in a relationship teetering on the brink of disaster. With slow, deliberate moves, he stalked around the bench, running the cane over the sub's quivering body. He stopped at the head of the young man. "Why do you question my loyalty? I will not tolerate such behavior." He grasped a lock of the man's long, blond curls. "Speak.""I am jealous, Master."Reynold brought the birch down in two swift cuts across the slave's pristine back. The prone man's cry sent blood rushing to his cock. Christ, he loved to hear his submissive moan. He threw down the cane. "Of whom are you jealous this time?""Lord John, Master." The slave drew a shuddering breath. "I don't want you to continue your friendship him.""When you are tied to my bed, I am the master." Reynold met the man's cornflower blue gaze. "I will not tolerate such demands from my slave. If you continue in this manner, I will have no option but to take my leave." He ground his teeth. "I warn you, do not think to use my devotion as a weapon to manipulate me to your will. If needs be, I will take a commission abroad to be rid of you.""Reynold . . . I beg you—think of my feelings.""You would have me weak?" Reynold dropped his breeches. "I think not.""No, Master, not weak—never weak." David's gaze fell on Reynold's shaft. "I do not care to share you with Lord John." He licked his lips. "When you are in his company, I fear I will lose you."Reynold growled. "I regret now confiding my relationship with Lord John Henley to you before we became involved. The man is a dear friend but you are my lover. If you don't believe this to be true, the trust you claim to have in me does not exist." He sighed. "Perhaps it is you who wants to end our relationship.""Christ, I would have no other touch me in this way, and you know this to be true." David poked out his tongue, and swiped it across the head of Reynold's cock. He moaned. "I beg your forgiveness.""You have my forgiveness, but I cannot allow you to dictate which friends I have. You know I have no desire to fuck any of them. Arguing with me in public has already put us both under scrutiny. Christ, David we can't be seen together. The risk is too high. What reason would I have to be in your company?" Reynold stroked David's cheek. "If you cannot trust me, this time we have together—our relationship as master and slave, as lovers, will not survive." Reynold groaned. "I care for you deeply but I won't allow you to risk the hangman's noose because of youthful foolishness. I will not offer you another chance, do you understand?" Reynold tugged David's hair. "Do you?""Yes." David smiled. "Master, will you allow me to pleasure you? I crave the taste of your seed."Palming his shaft, he guided it toward his slave's rosy lips. He sighed as the man's hot, wet mouth surrounded him with absolute bliss. He loved the way David's flushed cheeks pulled tight with every withdrawn thrust. Later, he would take the man's tight arse, and hear his intoxicating screams of delight. He could never have enough of his luscious young submissive. Reynold rolled his hips, his hands cradling David's, sweat soaked cheeks. Lord, this man knew how to take him to heaven. Tipping back his head, he plunged deeper, fucking the man's delightful throat. This session with David had been brutal. Reynold wanted to stamp his authority over the young man. Of late, the possessive nature of his delicious sex-slave had become out of hand. David had grown too demanding. Reynold had no option but to take a stand. The submissive's teeth raked a path up his aching cock, the man's agile tongue flicking over the sensitive tip. Reynold bit back a groan and fell into the darkness of forbidden bliss. His slave's mouth became a whirlpool of ecstasy spinning him into an uncontrollable, shattering conclusion. Christ, David, for once, do as I say. Your jealousy is leading us down a path of damnation.
Chapter One Three years later—London 1772

Chapter OneLord Reynold Wilton opened his pocketbook and paid the tailor's account, grateful to be finally out of uniform. He met the gaze of Mr. Joseph Brown. The man had produced every inch of clothing he had worn since a boy. "Have everything else sent over to Spencer Street. There's a good man."Donning the new hat he'd purchased from Locks in Bond Street, Lord Reynold pulled on his gloves and turned to look in the mirror. The new, delightfully comfortable, clothes fit well. Soft and fresh against his skin, the linen provided a welcome change from his stagnant, uniform shirt and stiff smalls. At last, after three despicable years, he resembled a gentleman again. The new clothes, ordered by letter some three months prior, had surprised him with their elegance. Mr. Brown had tailored each garment in the height of fashion, right down to the fine, lawn ruffles and silver buttons. White silk stockings and a cloak of the finest, black wool lined in silk completed his dress. He rubbed his chin and smiled ruefully at his reflection. The breeches stretched tight about his thighs and bottom, and Mr. Brown had pinched the jacket in at the waist to enhance the width of Reynold's shoulders. The cravat lay in exquisite folds. Dressed as such, in blue velvet, with his hair tied in a neat queue, he knew how men of his predilection would react to his appearance. Christ, I look like a peacock. In truth, his body had changed from soft to hard and muscular, but a commission in the Americas did that to a man. His face had altered too, but not in a bad way. He had not suffered any serious injury during his time abroad, but the man with haunting eyes in his reflection had replaced the innocent expression of youth.Although, relieved by the sale of his commission and consequent arrival in England, his thoughts were not on returning immediately to his country estate in Surrey. Rather, he had spent the last two days in his townhouse close to Hyde Park, not wanting to endure the immediate duties of lord of the manor.Lord Reynold stepped from the shop and glanced down Oxford Street. Nothing of note had changed in London during his time abroad with exception of women's fashion and the volume of carriages barreling along the dusty roads. He drew a deep breath to enjoy the scents of normality after enduring an eternity of stinking jacks and sweat. The smell of gunpowder and the unforgettable stench of a military camp had combined with horrors a man could never forget.For three long years, Reynold had remained abroad. Christ, he had little choice. His role as master had become impossible after another very-public argument with David had threatened to expose them both. To avoid the scandalmongers and the chance of prosecution for the act of sodomy, he made the heart-wrenching decision to leave his lover.Reynold stood for a few seconds to enjoy his surroundings. There had been a meager amount of birds brave enough to negotiate the noisy camps, and his heart lifted to see an abundance of sparrows feasting on a discarded crust of bread on the footpath. Above a blue sky peeked briefly through a profusion of white fluffy clouds. A stream of sunlight bathed a rose bush sitting in a large, yellow glazed pot beside the milliners next door. The rich perfume from the red blooms mixed with the pungent odor of horse dung squashed on the road. The hay infused clumps thrown in all directions by the constant stream of carriage wheels. Everything is so normal, as if no one knows a war of great proportions is looming.Moving toward the curb, Reynold called out to his driver to take him to Charters, a gentlemen's club in Vauxhall, and climbed into the carriage. He sighed, rested his head on the back of the seat, and closed his eyes. A familiar memory flooded his consciousness. The vision of a young man, exceptionally featured, with a soft gaze the color of a summer sky, hooded with long, tawny lashes. He groaned, recalling his sweet slave's sated expression from hours of glorious sex. The young body so deliciously secured his skin damp and flushed from his master's cane. David.

Buy Link: https://www.nobleromance.com/Authors/40/H-C-Brown  My web: www.hcbrown-author.com Blog: www.hcbrownauthoroferoticromance.bligspot.com

The Power of Muse & Inspiration - by Michael Mandrake

Michael Mandrake is one of the three writing muses and persona of Chicago's Sharita Lira, a woman and writer of incredible depth. 
Be sure to check out Rawiya and BL Moricia's books as well. Yep. Same person, totally different styles - all great.
 
Blurb:

No such thing as vampires! William Chatterley is an up and coming author looking for a partner after many dead end dates. Finally, he believes he's found a suitable mate in Andrew and they see one another.
Jude the vampire is weak from being without love in his life. When he sees the author, he desires him right away but his companion is a stumbling block.
How will he get passed it and when he does, will the mortal want to be his partner? What will he choose? Will Jude convince him to become his eternal lover? Excerpt"Yes, yes, come to me my child!" Jude lay his head against a dead tree. He sensed two virile young men he might like to enjoy for a double entree. Since he couldn't have love why not fill up his belly with young blood for nourishment. He waved his long fingers and opened his eyes, gazing around the open field till he caught sight of the two he'd seen in his mind's eye.

As always the faces were skewed when he looked deep within to see his prey but now that they'd come into view, he noticed one he didn't want to destroy.

"Wha...I..." At a loss of words was Jude, gawking at the handsome man running away from another. "My, I've never seen in all my years a more gorgeous sight." That moment the old immortal felt his muscles strengthen and his face tightening. A new feeling of love and inspiration came over him.

A mortal, so lovely and beautiful, the desire to live started to return.

Michael's Blog
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Dead Kitties Don't Purr - by Amber Green

Today the curtain rises on Act Two of Lesbians vs Zombies: The Musical Revue.  This piece is called Dead Kitties Don't Purr.
Blurb:
People who take their shots and do as they're told have nothing to fear. Right?

The Rabies Z epidemic began and ended in Miami this past summer, didn't it? And that guy my daddy saw at the Jacksonville airport last week was just having an epileptic fit. No cause for alarm. Epilepsy always causes an eighteen-hour hazmat shutdown at a major airport.

So while my twin tours to flog her newest album, here I am, Camie Invisible, parked at this nice, safe college—as far as I can get from the infection and still pay in-state tuition. Only now, my studies have become focused on the fascinating Risa Ruiz. And she has eyes for me.

Isn't this the perfect time for the zombies to show up?

 Excerpt:
The dorm's safety rules echoed in the back of my head. Never leave campus with someone you've just met. If you see anyone walking strangely, having convulsions, or standing too still, run as fast as you can to where the people are. Never approach anyone lying down, or anyone sitting in the wrong place. Stay on well-lit streets. Let someone know where you're going, who you're with, and when you'll be back. Keep a phone on you at all times, and never turn it off.

And I, the careful one, the most timid freshman in the quietest dorm on campus, didn't give a shit.
I had my hand on the top edge of Risa Ruiz's gauzy skirt, feeling her flank muscles stretch and contract.

We reached another corner and turned into one of those dark cul-de-sacs that don't even rate a single working streetlamp. I blinked, trying to see.

She pulled me off the sidewalk.

I wondered for half a second, but then a bicycle whispered by.

She was paying attention—something I should be doing, as well. But there we were, off the sidewalk, away from the streetlights and headlights, and the crickets rasped as if giving coded messages, only all the messages overlapped and competed with one another, and the moonlight glittered on Risa's pectoral of claws and fangs while it shimmered on the swirling lace below.

"I want to kiss you," I said, my voice a stranger's. I swallowed, waiting for her to laugh at me, to push me away.

Instead, she pulled me closer, hip-first, and tilted her head. "What's stopping you?"

I reached up and gathered fistfuls of that hair, cool and warm at the same time, and I pulled her face down into reach, and I touched her lips with mine. And there it had to end, because I'd never opened my mouth to a kiss without wanting to gag.

But there it didn't end. She cupped my head in her hands, opened her mouth, and gently sucked my bottom lip between hers. My pulse pounded in my lips, in my temples, in my breasts where they nestled against hers. For what seemed a long time, she played with my bottom lip, licking it, then licking inside it.

She tasted of popcorn, or maybe that was me, and she smelled of something deep, woody, and rich—sandalwood or cedar, or both, or something I'd never encountered before. I desperately wanted to wash in whatever soap made her smell like that.

She pulled back, disengaging my trembling fists from her hair. "You're not used to this, are you?"

My skin shrank against my face. "I'm sorry."

At least I hadn't gagged on her. Hadn't had the first inclination to gag, come to think of it.

She brushed a kiss over my cheekbone. "Don't be. Don't be nervous, either. And whatever you do, don't hesitate to tell me to slow down if I take this too fast."
Dead Kitties Don't Purr - by Amber Green

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Author Pender Mackie on Resolutions and "Wishful Thinking"

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.Lao-tzu, The Way of Lao-tzu
Chinese philosopher (604 BC - 531 BC)



I've been thinking about New Year's resolutions and how hard it is to keep them.
I can see why a lot of people decide the start of a new year feels like a good time to make changes. Especially after a month or so of indulging in rich food and extra treats.
I'm no stranger to the culinary indulgences of December, but when January comes and the excitement of the holiday season is over, my natural inclination is to cocoon or hibernate. I want to curl up under a blanket with a good book and a mug of hot chocolate. The last thing I feel like doing is starting a new exercise program or make radical changes to my diet.
And from all the griping I've been hearing at work, I'd say my coworkers aren't having a whole lot of success with their new and improved lifestyles.       
In the past I've had plenty of unsuccessful resolutions. Now I realize that if I want to make changes in my life I will. If I'm not motivated to make a particular change it's not going to happen regardless of the time of year. I've learned that I can't just think I should make a change. I have to want to change.
When I was twenty-one I started smoking. I picked up the habit at my first full-time job. My breaks were at the same time as the cute guy in the mailroom. One day he casually offered me a cigarette. I took it, enjoying the feeling of camaraderie. Stupid I know, but hey, he was cute and I was mildly smitten.
Sadly my crush was doomed. He wasn't remotely interested. My smoking habit, on the other hand, was a phenomenal success. Three months after I'd started, I was smoking a pack a day and loving it.
I smoked for five years before I quit. I knew smoking was bad for me from Day One. I stopped a few times, but only for a couple of weeks before I'd start up again. The problem was, I didn't want to quit. Not really. But then after three or four years I started to dislike smoking. I grew to hate being nicotine dependent and spending money I couldn't afford on something I was literally putting a match to.
Eventually I was successful at quitting: not because I knew I needed to quit, but because I actually wanted to. That was a couple of decades ago and I'm still a non-smoker.
All those failed resolutions I made in the past were unsuccessful because I was trying to make changes I knew I should be making instead of working on things I wanted to change.
I know I should lose a few pounds and get more exercise, but I don't want to give up chocolate or pasta or—God forbid—the occasional glass of wine. I don't want to get up at the butt crack of dawn to run in the cold, dark winter mornings. Hell, in winter I don't even want to get up, period.
But I do want to develop a healthier lifestyle. So instead of making unrealistic resolutions (at least for me) to lose twenty pounds and hit the gym three times a week, I'm taking baby steps. 
At work I'm taking the elevator instead of the stairs. I'm trying to pack crackers and cheese or a piece of fruit to snack on instead of buying a high calorie muffin or a cookie to go with my morning coffee. And so far it's working.  
In fact, it's working so well I'm thinking of trying this approach with my writing. Lately I never seem to have enough time for my works in progress. But if I spend one or two of my lunch hours each week working on my writing instead of socializing in the lunchroom, that adds up to a couple of hours of uninterrupted writing time.  At the moment that's more time than I get at home. If I keep that up, I'll be able to finish at least one of my stories that much sooner.
So if you've made a resolution and you're struggling, don't sweat it. Remember the purpose behind your resolution—a healthier lifestyle, getting more organized, whatever it is—and make one or two small changes. Try something manageable. Something you're willing to do to work towards your long-term goal.
Try kicking off those seven-league boots and taking baby steps.


Pender's most recently completed work is Wishful Thinking.
Here's the blurb and excerpt.
Quiet, reserved Derrick has never had a date. That doesn't stop him from wishing and dreaming, especially when he's working a boring shift at the coffee shop. On a cold, rainy evening, the shop is deserted, and Derrick daydreams about his fantasy boyfriend, Rory, a fellow university student. Derrick doesn't know much about Rory. They're not in the same classes. They've never even talked.
When Rory is his last customer of the night, Derrick comes face to face with the man of his dreams. The real Rory is even better than the fantasy and he wants more than coffee… he wants Derrick. By the end of his shift, Derrick will find out if all his fantasies can come true.
Excerpt
I looked up automatically when a figure walked past the front window of the coffee shop. The person kept going—head down, huddled under an umbrella—thank God.I didn't want any more customers this near to closing time. My current customers looked as if they were finally getting ready to leave.
They were a young couple that had probably just started dating. They'd spent their entire time in the shop sitting quietly, holding hands, and staring dreamily into each other's eyes. They were so wrapped up in each other, I could have tap-danced on the counter and they wouldn't have noticed.
Not that I'd be likely to dance on the counter. I'm too introverted to draw that kind of attention to myself.
I'd be relieved when they left and not just because it was almost time to close. That level of mutual adoration is hard to take when you're single. Especially when you're pretty sure you're going to remain single, at least for the foreseeable future.
I pretended not to watch as the girl reached up and gently touched her boyfriend's face. He turned his head and kissed her palm. I envied them. I wanted that kind of intimacy with someone special.
I hadn't actually ever been on a date. The closest I'd been to dating was sneaking into the dugout at the neighborhood baseball diamond with Jaden Agostini a few times, back when we were both fifteen. I didn't think a couple of fumbling kisses and a quick mutual grope session met the official definition of a date. Even if it did, that had been over four years ago.
Four years without a date is a pretty sad state of affairs for anyone, but I'm kind of shy until I get to know someone. If I didn't feel so awkward around new people, it would be easier to meet a guy, talk to him, get to know him, maybe work up the nerve to ask him out.
I had a particular person in mind, but that was wishful thinking. It would never happen. Even if I had the confidence to talk to him, to dazzle him with my knowledge of obscure sci-fi trivia or my unusual sense of humor, he was far too friendly and outgoing to be interested in someone quiet like me.
The shop's door opened. A current of cold, wet air and a few aggressive raindrops escorted a last-minute customer across the threshold. The heavy rain had kept most people home tonight. I hadn't had any customers other than the lovebirds and now this guy, dripping his way across the floor.
Damn. Now that he was here, even if the couple left, I wouldn't be able to close up a few minutes early. I'd be stuck here right up to the last minute. That would suck because I'd miss the ten o'clock bus and have to wait a half hour for the next one.
I didn't normally try to cut out early, but I had a paper due before the weekend and I was scheduled to work almost every night this week. I'm not supposed to be doing homework when I'm working, even if the place is completely devoid of customers, but if I'd ignored the rules and brought my computer, I could have at least proofed the completed part of my paper. I'd left my laptop at the dorm though, so instead of being productive, I'd spent almost my entire shift hoping for diehard coffee addicts to keep me busy, and daydreaming about my fantasy boyfriend.
Of course, now, when it was least convenient, I finally had the customers I'd wished for.
I leaned on the counter and watched resignedly as my latest patron took his time getting settled at the table in the corner—the big one with the L-shaped bench and all the cushions. Even though he was short and slim and wearing a hooded raincoat, which hid his face, I knew it was a 'he' and not a 'her' by the clothes and the build. He had a backpack too, so it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out he was a student.
Double damn. The coffee shop was close to the university. I'd served lots of students. They always ordered something inexpensive and then sat for hours pretending to study or reading the out-of-date magazines. Now I'd never catch the ten o'clock bus.
He took off the backpack and casually slung it onto a chair on the far side of the table, across from the bench. He peeled himself out of his sopping-wet jacket and hung it over the back of the chair. Then he straightened and shook his hair out as if he were a wet dog.
As I stared at my customer my heart stopped, then started up again. It raced along as if I'd just guzzled a triple espresso.
I knew him. Well, technically I didn't know him, but I knew who he was. I'd seen him around. Seen him on the university's campus, hanging out, talking and laughing with his friends in the cafeteria or walking to class.
He was my fantasy boyfriend.
Wishful Thinkinghttp://pendermackie.blogspot.com
Thanks for reading and thanks, KevaD, for letting me ramble.

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1-800 Contacts, Inc.1-800-PetMeds2b1 Inc3M CompanyABRO Industries, Inc.Acushnet Companyadidas AmericaAdvanced Medical Technology Association (AdvaMed)Allen Russell PhotographyAlliance of Automobile ManufacturersAlliance of Visual Artists (AVA)Altria Client ServicesAmerican Apparel and Footwear AssociationAmerican Association of Independent Music (A2IM)American Board of Internal MedicineAmerican Federation of MusiciansAmerican Gramaphone LLCAmerican Made AllianceAmerican Mental Health Counselors AssociationAmerican Photographic ArtistsAmerican Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers (ASCAP)American Society of Media PhotographersAmerican Society of Picture ProfessionalsAmerican Watch AssociationAnatoly Pronin PhotographyAndrea Rugg PhotographyAnti-Counterfeiting and Piracy Initiative (ACAPI)Applied DNA SciencesArt Holeman PhotographyAssociation of American Publishers (AAP)Association of Equipment ManufacturersAssociation of Independent Music Publishers (AIMP)Association of Test PublishersAstraZeneca plcAustralian Medical CouncilAutodesk, Inc.Automotive Aftermarket Industry AssociationBaker & Taylor Ent.Bay State Psychological AssociatesBeachbody, LLCBeam Global Spirits & WineBlue Sky Studios, Inc.Bose CorporationBraasch Biotech LLCBrian Stevenson PhotographyBrigid Collins Family Support CenterBroadcast Music, Inc. (BMI)BurberryC. F. Martin & Co., Inc.Callaway Golf CompanyCascade Designs IncorporatedCaterpillar Inc.Caveon, LLCCBS CorporationCengage LearningCenter for Credentialing & EducationCenter Stage PhotographyCFA InstituteChanel USAChristopher Semmes PhotographyChurch Music Publishers AssociationCMH ImagesCoachCoalition Against Counterfeiting and Piracy (CACP)Columbia Sportswear CompanyComcast CorporationCommercial Photo DesignCommercial Photographers InternationalComprehensive Adult Student Assessment SystemConsumer Healthcare Products AssociationCopyright AllianceCopyright Clearance Center (CCC)Coty Inc.Council of Fashion Designers of AmericaCountry Music AssociationCropLife AmericaCross-Entertainment LLCCSA GroupCVS CaremarkDan Sherwood PhotographyDanita Delimont Stock PhotographyDayco Products, LLCDeluxe Entertainment Services GroupDennyfotoDerek DiLuzio PhotographyDeVaul PhotographyDirect Selling Association (DSA)Directional InsightDistefano Enterprises Inc.Doriguzzi Photographic ArtistryDolby Laboratories, Inc.Dolce & Gabbana USA, INC.Dollar General CorporationDon Grall PhotographyDunford Architectural PhotographyEagle Rock EntertainmentEd McDonald PhotographyEducational & Industrial Testing ServiceElectronic Arts, Inc.Electronic Components Industry Association (ECIA)Eli Lilly and CompanyEnglebert PhotographyEntertainment Software Association (ESA)ERAI, Inc.Eric Meola Studio IncEvidence Photographers International CouncilEx OfficioExxel OutdoorsFAME Publishing Co., LLC.FAME Recording StudiosFar Bank EnterprisesFashion Business IncorporatedFederation of State Boards of Physical TherapyFender Musical Instrument CompanyFootwear Distributors & Retailers of America (FDRA)Ford Motor CompanyFortune Brands, Inc.Fred J. Lord PhotographyGAR AssociatesGelderland Productions, L.L.C.Gemvision CorporationGibson Guitar Corp.GlaxoSmithKlineGospel Music AssociationGovernors America Corp.Graphic Artists GuildGreeting Card Association (GCA)Greg Nikas PhotographyGuru DenimH.S. Marketing & Design, Inc.Harley-Davidson Motor CompanyHarperCollins PublishersHarry Fox AgencyHastings Entertainment, Inc.ICM Distributing Company, Inc.IDS PublishingIEC Electronics corp.Images PlusImaging Supplies Coalition (ISC)Independent Distributors of Electronics Association (IDEA)INgroovesInnate-gearInternational AntiCounterfeiting Coalition (IACC)International Trademark Association (INTA)IPC-Association Connecting Electronics IndustriesIra Montgomery PhotographyJ.S. Grove PhotographyJames Drug Inc.Jaynes GalleryJCPage PhotographyJean Poland PhotographyJeff Stevensen PhotographyJohn Fulton PhotographyJohn Wiley & Sons, Inc.Johnson & JohnsonJuicy Couture, IncJulien McRoberts PhotographyK&R Photographicskate spadeKekepana International ServicesKenneth Garrett, photographer for National GeographicKilling Jar Productions LLCLacoste USALeatherman Tool Group, Inc.Lexmark International, Inc.Light PerspectivesLinda Olsen PhotographyLittle Dog RecordsLiz Claiborne, IncL'Oréal USALucky Brand JeansLVMH Moët Hennessy Louis VuittonMacmillanMajor League BaseballMarcia Andberg Associates LLCMark Niederman PhotographyMarmotMarona PhotographyMcLain Photography IncMerck & Co., Inc.Messy Face Designs, Inc.Michael Stern PhotographyMicroRam Electronics, Inc.Minter Works of ArtMira ImagesMonster Cable Products, Inc.Moose's PhotosMorningstar Films LLCMotion Picture Association of America, Inc. (MPAA)MotionMastersMotor & Equipment Manufacturers AssociationMPA – The Association of Magazine MediaMr. Theodor Feibel (sole proprietor)Music Managers Forum-U.S.Nashville Songwriters Association InternationalNatalie Neckyfarow Actor/Dancer/SingerNational Association of BroadcastersNational Association of ManufacturersNational Association of Recording Merchandisers (NARM)National Association of Theatre Owners (NATO)National Basketball Association (NBA)National Board for Certified CounselorsNational Board for Certified Counselors FoundationNational Electrical Manufacturers Association (NEMA)National Football League (NFL)National Music Publishers' Association (NMPA)National Retail Federation (NRF)NBCUniversalNervous Tattoo Inc., dba Ed HardyNew Balance Athletic Shoe, Inc.New Era Cap Co IncNew Levels Ent. Co. LLCNews CorporationNext Decade Entertainment, Inc.NHL Enterprises, L.P.Nicholas Petrucci, Artist, LLCNike, Inc.Nintendo of America Inc.Nissle Fine Art PhotographyNorth Dakota Pharmacists AssociationNorth Dakota Pharmacy Service CorporationOakley, Inc.One Voice RecordingsOpSec Security, Inc.Outdoor Industry AssociationOutdoor Power Equipment Institute (OPEI)Outdoor Research, IncPacific Component Xchange, Inc.Party Killer Films LLCPearson Clinical AssessmentPeavey Electronics CorporationPerry Ellis InternationalPersonal Care Products CouncilPeter C. Brandt, Architectural and Fine Art PhotographyPeter Hawkins Photography, Inc.Petzl AmericaPfizer Inc.PGA of AmericaPhilip Morris InternationalPhotojournalist Dave BartruffPicture Archive Council of America (PACA)Pigfactory MusicPINGPNW ImagesPremier LeagueProduction Music Association (PMA)Professional Photographers of AmericaQuality Float Works, Inc.Raging Waters MusicRalph Lauren CorporationRamsay CorporationRebel PhotoRecording Industry Association of America (RIAA)Red4 Music/Doogs Rock IncRed Wing Shoe CompanyReebok International Ltd.Reed Elsevier Inc.Retail Industry Leaders Association (RILA)RevlonRichard Flutie PhotographyRite AidRobin Davis Photography, Inc.Rodger Scott Craig, a member of Liverpool Express, The Merseybeats, Fortune, HarlanCage, 101 South, and Mtunz MediaRoger Smith Photography ServicesRolex Watch USA Inc.Romance Writers of America (RWA)Rosetta Stone Inc.Saddle CreekSage Studios LLCSam D'Amico PhotographySchneider ElectricSean McGinty PhotographySecret Sea Visions (Photography)SESAC, Inc.SG Industries, Inc.Shure IncorporatedSIGMA Assessment SystemsSix Degrees RecordsSmall Business & Entrepreneurship CouncilSMC EntertainmentSMT Corp.SoBe EntertainmentSociety of Sport & Event PhotographersSoftware & Information Industry Association (SIIA)Sony Electronics Inc.Sony Music EntertainmentSony Pictures EntertainmentSoul Appeal Records and MusicSoundExchangeSouthern Gothic LLCSpecialty Equipment Market Association (SEMA)SPI (The Plastics Industry Trade Association)Sporting Goods Manufacturers AssociationSports Rights Owners CoalitionSpring Fever Productions LLCSpyder Active Sports, IncStenbakken PhotographyStephen Dantzig PhotographyStock Artist AllianceStuart Weitzman Holdings, LLCStudent Photographic SocietyStudio 404SunRise Solar Inc.Taylor Glenn PhotographsTaylor Made Golf Company, Inc.Tednologies, Inc.The Cambridge DonThe Collegiate Licensing Company/IMG CollegeThe Donath Group, Inc.The Dow Chemical CompanyThe Estee Lauder CompaniesThe McGraw-Hill CompaniesThe Music People! Inc.The National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA)The Recording Academy (National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences)The Timberland CompanyThe Walt Disney CompanyTiffany & Co.Time Warner Inc.Tony Bullard PhotographyToshiba America Business Solutions, Inc.TRA GlobalTricoast WorldwideTrio Productions, Inc. / Songscape Music,Twist & Shout, Inc.U.S. Chamber of CommerceUltimate Fighting ChampionshipUnderwriters Laboratories Inc.Universal Music GroupUniweld Products Inc.VF CorporationViacomVibram USA, IncVirtual Chip Exchange USA, Inc.Voltage Pictures, LLCW.R. Case & Sons Cutlery Co.Walcott Studio, LLCWal-MartWarner Music GroupWendy Kaveney PhotographyWestern Psychological ServicesWestmorland Images, LLCWild & Associates, Inc.Wild Eye Photos LLCWilliam Sutton PhotographyWillis MusicWindLegends Ink LLCWinestem CompanyWinslow Research InstituteWolfe VideoWolverine World Wide, Inc.Woolrich, Inc.World Wrestling Entertainment, Inc.Xerox CorporationZippo Manufacturing CompanyZumba Fitness, LLC