Christin Lovell's Blog, page 8

What I learned about myself this week.

Somehow, in the last year or so, I’ve become a major fashion whore. Despite working at home – where no one ever sees me – unless you count fish, a pair of parakeets and an ugly, yet somehow super cute dog (pictured above) – I’ve become more and more obsessed with shopping. Don’t get me wrong. I’m can’t afford big benders, but I look. Boy, do I look.

Online shopping has been my vice lately. More so, being a plus size girl who feels limited by Lane Bryant and Torrid in the US, I’ve branched out and looked at several UK based companies, like Asos and SimplyBe (love their stuff!) If I didn’t have three children and a sense of responsibility, my wardrobe would be amazing, regardless of my size.

Most recently, I discovered that I’m slowly but surely becoming obsessed with shoes. While I would kill for a pair of red-bottomed Louboutins, or sexy yellow pumps from Saint Laurent, they are WAY out of my budget. So, I’ve been browsing places like Just Fab, where when you snag the shoes during a B1G1 promo deal, you’re paying $20 for some super nice shoes.

Beyond mentally shopping online – I say mentally because while I’ve created a wish list almost everywhere, I’ve splurged on all of 2 pairs of B1G1 shoes from Just Fab and 2 clearance jeans that I’ve been dying to arrive from SimplyBe for over a week… – I’ve been looking into body wraps and detoxes. Don’t get me wrong. I’m comfortable with my excess sexiness, but I’ve been getting sick so often lately, plus all the meds and traveling, I’m feeling like I need a cleanse of some sort. There is no point in loving your body the way it is unless you feel good loving it. And I don’t feel so hot lately.

So, while lying in bed, being supervised by my adorably ugly pooch, I’ve been reading reviews, bumping through some rather humorous sites with horror stories on body wraps and cleanses. (Here is a link to one of my faves...though she’s not plus size.) While reading those entertaining bits, I came across a place that does body wraps and spray tans, because apparently when you lose inches, you want to top it off with a spray tan to emphasize your new now-toned physique.

In case you didn’t know, I’m a white girl. I’m not talking Caucasian white; I’m talking my-legs-could-pass-as-ghosts white. As a result, every lump of cottage cheese shows. I’ve gotten used to it. But lately, I have been thinking more and more about a spray tan. (The machine one, not the one where you have to strip and show some poor stranger your personal bits.) It is true that they do make you look thinner and more toned somehow…

That got me thinking about Plus Size models. Every plus size model I’ve seen is miraculously plus size and toned. They have curves but flat, never-been-preggo bellies and thick thighs that are smoother than a baby’s bottom. And, somehow, I have to envision every outfit the model fashions on real me, who definitely doesn’t have a flat tummy, has more hip than Texas and nothing sleek about her. Top it off with the fact that I have whale arms (most shirts that fit my bust, waist and hips are tight on my arms) and there is something slightly depressing about shopping online. It doesn’t stop the rush of adrenaline from clicking the ‘Add to Wish List’ or, even better, the ‘Check Out’ button. Coincidentally, it also doesn’t prevent allegations brought against you if you so happen to stalk your mailman…

So, what have I learned in my week of sickness? That if I had Ivanka Trump’s bank account, I’d be a plus size fashion queen with a closet full of shoes and a perpetual spray tan. While on one hand I want to rejoice in my fatshionista attitude, on the other hand, I open my closet and get royally depressed at the dim selection. I own a handful of Capri sweats, a good 10 pair of Forever 21 plus leggings – the cheap ones, and a gazillion tanks, most of which I’ve owned since I was pregnant the last time, and a handful of maxi skirts. I have a set set of silver jewelry to wear and a set set of gold jewelry to wear; one purse for brown based outfits and one for black based outfits. I’m really rather boring, though I’ve ensured my boring is still flattering. And while I dream of walking around in sexy high heels, the truth is, I’m not cut out for them. My feet start screaming 60 seconds in. So, alas, I have the basic borings with… flip-flops. When I receive my shoes from Just Fab though, I’ll have some cute flat sandals instead of basic brown flip-flops. (Where is that mailman?)

Progress! It’s all about progress. And I’m optimistic that one day I’ll be the fatshionista I envision myself to be. Until then, don’t be surprised when you see me in sweats, leggings or a maxi skirt and a tank… Because as much as I hate my arms, it’s just too darn hot to cover them up! I’m in Florida after all…

I hope you’re keeping cool, wherever you are.

~ Christin

Dressing with Confidence

I am back from Texas, but sick…still…again. It seems like I am always sick these days. The flights back from Texas were so unbearable on my ears that I couldn’t sleep when I got home. I rocked on my bed until the walk-in clinic opened. Turns out I have a double ear infection in both ears and a cold. I was promptly given prescriptions and sent on my way to rest the remainder of this week, as my balance, equilibrium, will be off for a while.

I don’t know about you, but I haven’t met anyone who feels sexy when they’re sick. Lying in bed in pajama pants and a tank at times, a hoody at others, as I cuddle a box of Kleenex tissues and force myself to stay hydrated is not my idea of fun. The fact that I’m shivering sometimes and sweating at others only amplifies my ick factor and makes me feel worse. Make-up is the last thing on my mind, though it would cover my Rudolph nose…temporarily, and my hair, despite getting a make-over, is in a permanent pony tail as long as a z-pack is my friend.

BTW, for those wondering, traveling when you’re sick isn’t a great traveling experience. Though I was taking medicine the entire time I was away, if you so much as sniffle, your fellow travelers will profile you. Add to it the fact that I’m a plus size girl on a plane with rows and seats built for kids, and it’s a wonder why no one wanted to beside me unless forced. (I flew Southwest. Open seating policy.) I wasn’t offended though. I went through Kleenex and hand sanitizer like they were water. I turned my head and covered my mouth when I coughed, and merely smiled politely when others speculated over what germs I was spreading.

Did it make me uncomfortable? Heck yeah! It was embarrassing, but unchangeable. But that’s where it stopped.

I’ve been overweight most of my life. I noticeably started gaining weight after my parents passed away. (My dad when I was seven; my mom when I was eight.) I know to any psychoanalyst that was a trigger, as, according to most of them, fat people are not eating food, but rather eating their emotions.

That is not what I’m focused on though. I’m focused on the fact that I’ve spent most of my life in the husky, plus size, big women’s section of the store. I was there back in the late nineties when the section was small and matronly, and, ironically, didn’t even look good on the matronly. I was there when it consisted of two racks in the back corner of a store, you know, the place where anyone who dared tread back there beneath the flickering light was looked at like the evil stepchild who’d suddenly developed a contagious disease.

But I withstood the stares of disgust, the catty phrases teen girls said in passing loud enough for me to hear on purpose; I ventured into cobweb ridden territories with hope, with innocent social aspirations, because I wanted stylish clothes. I wanted to ‘fit in.’ Beyond looking good, I wanted what everyone wants: to FEEL good.

That seemed impossible though, insurmountable, especially when my own (adoptive) parent seemed to perpetuate the stigma.

Every day, I heard that I was a fat, lazy –curse word-, that I wasn’t good enough, that I needed to lose weight. Every day, I was put down, and, most of the time, my size was attached to the insult. So I did what everyone does at some point: I hit a wall, I shut down; I gave up. I didn’t have the confidence I do now; I couldn’t find clothes that were affordable or fashionable for my size and I had a mother figure who never deemed me good enough. If my own parent said I wasn’t good enough, and parents are supposed to be biased, then I wouldn’t be good enough for anyone, I thought.

So I hid my curves in oversized t-shirts and ill-fitting pants. I met my children’s father in my only pair of jeans at the time, that I was outgrowing but couldn’t afford to purchase a size up in, and a supersized, red, Aeropostale hoody – from the men’s section mind you.

Essentially, I’d been told by the fashion industry that fat people didn’t deserve to look good, that I ought to be ashamed of my body and hide it beneath an unflattering, navy blue, Amish style dress. My family re-enforced the silent message by commenting on what I ate between verbal blasts from my grandmother (my adopted mother) and sister. Society pounded the same message into my head, deeming me unfit for social integration into the popular, mainstream crowd. I was an outcast. I was told I would never be good enough simply because of my size.

It didn’t matter that I was smart. It didn’t matter that I was a talented artist taking an honors course no sophomore had ever taken. Nothing beyond my shell mattered, and the fact that my shell was being smothered in blankets rather than draped with class multiplied their ammo.

Fast forward a decade and plus size clothing companies with fashionable offerings are bursting from crevices around the globe. Fatshionistas, as they’re called, are rocking the runways beside their thinner counterparts, working the hell out of the latest trends. What did it take for that to happen? Confidence.

It took a team of confident, headstrong women demanding equality over their unified passion to make it happen. It took determined, curvy pioneers willing to make their own clothes before sharing them; it took persistent, plus size divas who rejected the rejecters to make this happen. Shadowing the details, the one bold adjective that surrounds every single person who turned the fashion world on its head is CONFIDENT.

Fashion and confidence go hand in hand.

Stand next to a standard runway model in massive, misfit clothes meant to hide your body and you will undoubtedly feel less than, undeserving in a way. It’s hard to defend your beauty when it’s hidden from the world.

Stand next to a model in a bright colored frock that highlights your assets, skims your excess sexiness elegantly, and is on target with the latest trends and I guarantee you would be able to hold your head high. It doesn’t mean insecurities won’t peg you, but when the playing field is even, then who is more beautiful becomes what beauty always was: subjective, and confidence becomes what it was always meant to be: a deep rooted enhancement.

I wish they had the clothes they do now back when I was in high school. I wish I had loved myself unconditionally back then. While I would still have scars, they wouldn’t run as deep.

Today, I am confident enough to say that I am what a medical chart deems obese, I weigh far more than my family is comfortable with, and I am, at times, embarrassed by my size. But the moment I dress my curves stylishly, my mood lifts and forgiveness returns. No, I’m not forgiving myself for being fat, because being fat is not a sin. I’m forgiving myself for momentarily becoming who all those plus size vixens had to fight past in order to dress me this way: a nonbeliever.

You have to believe that you are worthy of fashion in order to wear it. You have to trust that you are beautiful enough to wear fashion in order to rock it. You have to be courageous enough to try fashion in order to fall in love with it.

Fashion is a risk, a chance, a flurry of fabrics and styles meant to enhance one’s beauty, not dismiss it. To welcome fashion, regardless of your size, is to welcome confidence.

While, admittedly, I am a casual queen, I make sure I pick pieces that show off my curves rather than hide them. And, surprise! It turns out, dressing your curves up actually slims them down most of the time!

These days, I’m dressed in confidence, even when I’m wearing sweats. If I wear oversized pants, I’m rocking a fitted shirt or tank. If I’m wearing a loose, free-flowing top, you’ll find me donning leggings or skinny jeans to balance it out. I am always highlighting my curves these days in some way. Yes, I have days when I feel like a fat blob, like today; ironically, when I force myself to dress nice on those days though, I tend to feel better.

Investing in fashion is investing in yourself. Embracing flattering fashion is embracing confidence. You can’t hate your body and dress it beautifully at the same time. Somewhere in your conscious mind, you must admit that your body is deserving of that silky fabric swaddling it, that you are worthy of the hippest trends that work for you, whether the popular crowd says so or not.

Don’t take for granted what is available to you. Had I been given the chance to dress myself in confidence at a young age, my life would be completely different. I would have learned to love myself much sooner, and realized that anyone not able to love ALL of me the same, my fat included, doesn’t deserve to be in my life, regardless of their kinship.

Those who have something negative to say about my figure often have issues with their own. For bigger women snarking on ‘Skinny Minnies’, jealousy often runs deep. For my thinner counterparts with a quick cut, I am often their biggest fear in form.

Believe it or not, I’ve found a pattern in how I respond to them based on what I’m wearing. When I hide my body beneath huge clothes, I tend to cower as my mood plummets; I give their words power over me. I gave my grandmother’s and sister’s words power over me. 

When I’m dressed in clothes that I feel confident, sexy and beautiful in, while their words can sting a bit, I’m more likely to stand up for myself; I don’t treat their words like the veil being lifted before the public, but rather dismiss their words as a personal issue, not my own. For when you embrace fashion, embrace fashion around your curves, you embrace confidence. And I don’t know about you, but I’ve never met a woman who wanted to dress themselves in doubt, clothe themselves in shame or cloak themselves in insecurity. Regardless of your size, you should wake up each morning and dress yourself in confidence; I’ve learned to never leave home without it.

So, all you people who traveled with me on those four flights I took, sorry you were exposed to my germs. But that’s where it stops. I’m a curvy girl who dressed super cute on the flights and accessorized perfectly. I couldn’t smell myself, but I was dolloped in Bodycology’s gardenia lotion, which I adore the scent of, and therefore know I had no foul odors wafting forth. My extra wide birthing hips miraculously fit in my tiny plane seat and didn’t spill over into anyone else’s space, though my plump thighs ached at the end of each flight from being forced to squish together when they wanted a wider stance. I will never apologize for being who I am, the size I am, the way I am because I’ve learned to love myself. And on those days when I feel less than confident, I know I can dress myself beautiful again. When my nose clears, my ears stop hearing through a bubble tunnel, and my cough doesn’t make me sound like a chain smoker, when I’m ready to give up the tissues, the humidifier and the vicks vapor rub, and finish my prescriptions, I know that I can take a shower, put on something nice before I curl my hair and cover any traces of insomnia with make-up and instantly restore my confidence. And that level of security, that level of body acceptance, is priceless.

Have a fabulous night everyone! I’ll be in bed dreaming of sexy cowboys.

~ Christin

In my world…

I know it’s been forever since I’ve written on here, at least it feels that way. My life has been incredibly hectic, or so it feels, and I know things will only continue to get more crazy as the school year ends and summer comes. (3 kids 24/7!!!)

So, what’s going on in my world? Edits! Formatting! …and more edits!

I am finally editing and re-formatting all of my e-books, starting with Amazon. Many of you, if you purchased the books via Amazon, will be receiving e-mails letting you know that updated versions of my books are available. For most of my books, I am merely editing and re-formatting them, however, Controlled Instincts got a few paragraphs added and Controlled Longings now has a complete epilogue inspired by Delphina from Delphina Reads too Much. (Thanks! Hugs!)

My goal is to finish these edits and formats before I leave for Dallas, TX at the crack of dawn on Friday. I’m realistic though and know this may not be possible. If not, I will continue once I return. In the end, I want all of the books to feel cohesive and fluent. Plus, on the first 2 Vamp Chronicles books, I’ve been aware of many grammatical issues that need to be flooded out.

Periodically, I’ve been writing, but admittedly, I haven’t been consistent. Between doc appointments, teacher meetings, school plays, and much more, I’ve been pulled in too many directions to focus studiously. I’m hoping getting away for a few days will help me re-group a bit.

Getting away is always nice. This will be the closest I’ve come to taking a vacation. I’ve never gone some place to merely relax and enjoy the local. I’ve always gone to visit friends or family. While I’m doing that this time in Texas, it’s my best friend’s big 3-0 b-day, so we’ll be cutting loose. I will be a whole new woman, writer, mom etc. after Friday since we will be doing complete make-overs. Sometimes you need a fresh start.

Just like every other woman I know, I’ve fallen into a bit of a slump lately. I wear workout clothes the majority of the time and my hair has been in a permanent messy knot atop my head. I know once I’ve hit that point that I need to do something drastic. (Hello, shorter hair and good-bye capri sweats…um…maybe.)

Once I return from Texas and finish the formatting items, then I still need to upload my entire suite of books to Kobo. I’ve had a contract with them forever and still haven’t made it around to using it. In truth, I haven’t really wanted to partner with anyone new until my books were polished. And, once they are polished, happy news for Vamp Chronicles readers, paperback books will become available. I will be partnering with Amazon and Createspace to bring the paper backs to you. (Online orders only for now.)

Books I’m working on right now? Vigilante, Mel’s Story (VC 6), Controlled Fire (next in the Alpha Doms series), and The Dom Experience

To end things right, I figured I would do a cover reveal for Controlled Fire. It’s a flashy cover, but trust me, it’s perfect for this title. The heroine, Ember, is a spitfire who’s ready to take on her cocky alpha, Kane. I hope you like it!

And now, I think I’ve procrastinated long enough. It’s back to editing and formatting for me…

Have a great day everyone!

~ Christin

CONTROLLED FIRE
Coming Soon!

Battle Scars

They say life isn’t measured by the number of breaths you take, but in the number of moments that take your breath away. What they fail to recognize is that both good and bad, positive and negative, can steal your breath; amazing beauty and devastating pain can equally claim your air, crush your lungs.

Some of you may have noticed that my book schedule has been steadily broadened, my releases pushed further and further apart. The simple response would be to say that life is getting in the way, but the truth is far more disturbing. While I easily admit my faults, while I crack open my shell and reveal personal facts on occasion, the reality is far more than I’ve been able to bare, more than I’m able to bear.

As a mother, you’re supposed to be a role model for your children. You strive for perfection because you want to offer them perfection. Ideally, they would have everything you didn’t growing up. In a perfect world, they would have no battle scars; in a perfect world, you can protect them from the harsh licks of life.

Regardless of your expertise, there are two things you can’t protect your children from: death and heartache.

My mother died when I was eight, the same age my daughter is now. The woman who stepped in and filled that maternal role in my life over ten years ago, my daughter’s grandmother, is losing her battle with cancer. She’s fought so hard over these past two years. She is the perfect role model for my children. She embodies strength. Her courage is medal worthy. Her positive persistence, her determined attitude to conquer everything thrown at her is eye opening, it’s sobering. She makes you realize how great you have it, yet she doesn’t complain about her lot. She simply accepts the new challenge for what it is: another chance to prove herself, to demonstrate what a powerful woman she is.

Admittedly, I don’t remember many details about my biological mother, but I remember everything about this woman. The similarities between the two though, run straight to my heart. I watched my own mother go from an independent, healthy woman to a harrowing skeleton. It’s been difficult seeing and conceding the parallels along the way with my daughter’s grandmother. It’s heartbreaking; it’s crushing to realize that there is nothing you can do. It’s humbling to realize that nothing you do will change fate.

All three of my children adore this woman. They have an undeniable, indescribable bond with her. In fact, they call her Mom 1, and I’m Mom 2, because she was born first. I can’t help but break down at the reality that the same heartache I experienced at my daughter’s exact age will likely be experienced by her. I can’t protect her from it.

It’s devastating to realize you can’t protect them. It’s heart wrenching, soul defeating to know you can’t stop the inevitable…

Holding tight to my own personal experiences, I’ve vowed to be a pillar of strength for my children. I cry in silence, in the darkness of night, so they never feel that they are burdening me or upsetting me by sharing their feelings, so I can be their fortress rather than a flimsy cover that lacks support and stability.

This is especially important with my oldest boy. Kaleb is autistic. I don’t like labels. To me, Kaleb is Kaleb; he is who he is, who he was meant to be. He’s so smart too. He sees so much. He is always the first to notice new scars and bruises on her. He was the first to announce that her hair and eyebrows were growing back after her brain radiation. He was so excited for her. He loved seeing her recover; he celebrated every milestone with her as if this was what you were naturally supposed to do, as if we all were supposed to do this. How do you explain to him that her hair isn’t coming back this time? How do you break his heart, muddle his brain with the idea that she is never coming back again potentially? With great difficulty is the answer, with a heavy heart is the reality.

And my youngest? He won’t even remember her. She will be but a faint shadow in his memories. He’ll only ever know what we tell him, what little photos convey. He probably won’t remember the way she hugged him, the way she cried when he was born because he came right at the moment that all this came. And that will be the association as my youngest ages: his life began when war was declared on hers.

Few recognize the strain the threat of loss puts on relationships. Few acknowledge the burden you accept to remain by someone’s side. Admittedly, many relationships in my life have been rocked and shaken. Openly, I’m failing in so many parts of my life right now. I’ve been rocked and shaken to the core by more than merely unavoidable fate.

I’ve been on an emotional, mental journey all my own throughout these last two years. I’ve had my ups and downs, my highs and lows. Some changes are harder to accept than others. Some fates are harder to accept than others. Some deaths, some illnesses, are harder to deal with than others.

We all experience weakness, but that doesn’t make us a weak person. We all experience pain, but that doesn’t mean we’re living in agony. We all experience loss, but that doesn’t mean we have nothing left.

Despite all I’ve gone through in life, despite my personal challenges and the fresh obstacles regularly presenting themselves, I’m incredibly blessed.

In the midst of all this, I can’t even begin to explain how much you, my readers, have meant to me. Because you bought my books, I was able to make all her dreams come true, before it was too late. Because you bought my books, I’ve been given invaluable time, priceless flexibility during such an unstable time.

I’ll be relying on you all now more than ever though. As of Wednesday, she will be doing two different chemos, with different injection sites, varying strengths, twice a week with the chance of radiation as well. Friday, I receive the results of my own tests.  Regardless of what the doctor tells me, it will be nothing compared to the harrowing diagnosis I received with her this past Friday. And that’s just it, as bad as we think we have it sometimes, there is always someone who has it worse. As hard as my life has been, it’s nothing compared to the life I could have been forced to live.

Knowing all too well how precious time is, being all too aware of the support my children will need as they watch what I did at their age, I am stepping away from work for a bit. I’m not saying I won’t write, because honestly, reading and writing are my salvation; they’re my spot of sunshine in the midst of the storm. Rather, what I’m doing is stepping away from expectations. I’m taking a step back from writing commitments.

Release dates? I couldn’t give you a solid answer for any title. Even if I spewed something out, who’s to say it wouldn’t change. While you all offer me a lot of stability that I’m ever so grateful for, there are too many variables, too many possibilities still right now. In the myriad of emotions that are passing through me, the last one I want to invite is disappointment. So please, don’t ask me for a release date. I’m overjoyed that you are anxious for a release. It means I did something right in the midst of pure chaos. But, the truth is, things have been far too much for me to bare, far too much for me to bear. There is so much more of me in my books than you realize. There is so much more going on than we ever truly share, and I’m no exception.

I will continue to keep you all updated on my writing progress. I promise to provide release dates as soon as I can. I promise to return and be the proper author that I ought to be as soon as I can. 

Thanks for everything.

~ Christin

Release Date Alert!

…many of you have asked about this book’s release date, and I’m happy to say that I finally have one for you

Friday, April 12, 2013

The book should be available on Friday with most online retailers. As always though, iTunes typically takes longer to process, so please don’t expect it there. My books are always uploaded to iTunes at the same time as the other distributors, however their quality assurance process is quite extensive. I promise to let you all know when it does become available on iTunes though.

Sophie and Dominick’s story was a process to write. They took much longer than expected and their story was much longer than I anticipated, but I am pleased with the end result, and I hope all of you will be too

Mark your calendars, and enjoy!

*Just as a reminder, I still have a few more eye tests. The time I do have will be spent finalizing Curves & Courage to ensure it makes its release date.*

Thanks for your patience and understanding, with everything!

~ Christin

Reminder

Hey Everyone,
I just wanted to remind you all that I am on, and will continue to be on, limited comp time through this Wednesday. I have been having a lot of eye tests done that are strenuous and also limit my vision at times. I know quite a few of you have messaged me and commented, I promise to get back to you all as soon as the doc gives me the clear!
And now, it’s back to my pen and paper for now.
Have a great day!

~ Christin

 

Shivers. (18+)

Occasionally when you’re writing, you have a shiver moment. A moment almost too profound for your conscious to handle, prompting a physical reaction.

Well, after a night out last night and lunch with my sister, to shake the last of my negative Nancy disposition, I came back with an uncontrollable urge to write on my newest book: The Dom Experience.

Don’t worry Future Alpha readers, I’ll be moving onto Curves & Courage in a bit. I’m determined to pull those characters back out, even if I have to cowgirl up and lasso them

As most of you know, my Doms aren’t hardcore Doms. They are “light” on the BDSM. They don’t push limits and break records; for them, it’s more of an attitude. They want the control more than the full Monty in discipline and submission. The Dom Experience breaks the mold a bit. It’s a melting pot on this topic that I feel is SO relevant with the current book market. I can’t even begin to tell you how excited and, yet, unbelievably nervous I am about this one. It feels different. It truly is different, from what I’ve written on the subject prior. It almost has a could-be-reader-biographical feel to it. It… I don’t even have the words for it. lol

Taking on something from a new angle, disrupting the traditional feel of what you’ve written thus far, is scary. This one is actually giving me stage fright. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something about this one that has me so enraptured, so captivated by what’s unfolding on the screen as I type. It’s one of those: I can’t believe I actually wrote that, sort of books. It’s one where I know it’s going to be genius or an utter literary failure. There will be no meh reaction I don’t think…

So, without further delay, I’m introducing you to The Dom Experience with an excerpt. It’s actually a preface within a preface, something I’ve never come across, and I’ve certainly never written prior. lol For clarification purposes, Alyce Anders is the heroine, the main character of this book, and she happens to be an author as well

THE BELOW TITLE AND EXCERPT IS FOR READERS 18 & OLDER ONLY! No Exceptions!

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Do NOT keep scrolling unless you are 18 or older!

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NO EXCEPTIONS!

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By continuing to scroll, you are acknowledging that you are 18 years of age or older.

I will not be held responsible for you continuing to read if you are below the suggested age.

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Last chance! Click X now if you are under the age of 18!

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The below intro to The Dom Experience, an 18 & older title, is unedited.

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I HOPE YOU, the ones 18 & older, ENJOY IT!

~*~

EXCERPT: The Dom Experience

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The Dom Who Scarred Me

Alyce Anders

Preface

I was easily lured into the net of proclivity. I was a victim who chose to be a victim.

You see, I was fascinated by the composition of balance. I was captivated by the feud for power. I was beguiled by the hype. I was hypnotized by the thrill.

I, too, wanted to feel like a vixen; I wanted to be the sexually free Cleopatra portrayed in the books. I wanted to be strapped and stroked. I wanted a Dom who unveiled the constrained woman within, for certainly there was one.

The fancy plays of words were alluring. The lines and chapters unleashed a novel need within me. The Doms I read about magnified a longing I wasn’t aware of; they awakened to the dormant sex goddess within me.

They aroused my love for a little pain. They opened my eyes to the beauty of discipline. They broke open my soul and caused a new rhythm to harmonize it, a cadence of change, of chance.

They single-handedly and simultaneously challenged my definition of trust, for, surely, there is no greater proof than to offer one’s self unto a man, to be bound by him, to surrender all of yourself to him without consideration.

I trusted the fictional Doms, and I frivolously believed reality offered the same security. I ignorantly assumed my safety was never an issue. I unwittingly, blindly, depended upon the power of a safe word. I, scarily, hoped for success, without certainty of it.

There are hard lines between reality and fiction. There are boundaries characters are free to ignore that a real woman never ought. There are nightmares to be faced when one disregards the warnings. There are tragedies to endure when one foolishly dances with the devil.

There, now, are permanent scars on my very real body, from a fictional fantasy I fought to make a reality.

Enraptured by the eloquent interactions of every fictitious BDSM couple whose story I devoured, I sought to write my own beautiful story of surrender. Little did I know I would end up losing far more than I gained, and I alone was to blame.

For I was a victim who chose to be a victim.

I was a starry eyed reader who determinedly sought the Dom who scarred me.

~*~

Just keep swimming.

What do you do when your best isn’t good enough?

There is nothing worse than pouring all of yourself into something and having it not be good enough. It’s left me shaken, questioning. It’s left me unnerved, wondering what I’m doing.

There is nothing more heartbreaking than putting yourself out there, only to be rejected.

There is nothing more despairing than working hard only to be told you’ve hardly worked.

I know they say we’re often the hardest on ourselves. But what if my hardest isn’t hard enough? What if what I feel is my best really isn’t? What if… what if… what if…

I’ve been plagued by those thoughts lately. I know every writer goes through “funks.” I know we all face adversity, dislike and negativity. For the most part though, I avoid it. Not because it doesn’t exist around me, not because it isn’t directed towards me, but because I make a conscious effort not to engage in it.

I haven’t read reviews for any of my books in forever, with the exception of Delphina’s, because she sends them to me. I’ve always believed negativity has a way of warping your confidence, the same way excessive praise easily can.

I’m human. I have my doubts. I have my inconsistencies, my faults, my debilities. I have my weaknesses… I have my weak moments.

Occasionally, I will check to see what my book’s ranks are, most of the time on Amazon. I won’t lie, it was a bit shocking to pull them up the other day and see those star ratings beside a few.

I know there is no way to please everyone. I’ve read books that I haven’t enjoyed one bit. I’ve read others that were so-so. I know it happens. I know we all have our off days, but mine didn’t take a day to write, which meant I’ve had an off couple months or am totally off mark with what I’m doing.

What I thought was amazing has proven to be mediocre by reader’s standards.

Shorter books, short stories, like the Alpha Dom shorts, are going to be a hit or a miss. They’re not long enough or in depth enough to (eventually) build a connection with the characters if it doesn’t happen in the beginning. While I want everyone to be able to connect with the characters on some level, I understand they’re not universal characters with generic situations. It’s not always going to happen, plain and simple.

But Two Times the Charm was a much-too-long, over-extended labor of love, so seeing the rating it has beside it was more than a little disappointing. I read through the book many times, backwards and forwards. There wasn’t anything I could cut and nothing, I felt, I could add to it. The way it is, the way it reads now, is how I feel it ought to.

Seeing less than four stars beside a book I’ve written is difficult for me. If it has one or two reviews comprising that average, I can easily dismiss it. Not because opinions don’t matter, but because you can’t please everyone. There are so many variables that determine whether you enjoy a book or not, even down to your own mood and mindset when you begin it. I know because I’ve been there.

But when it has more, it shakes me. It’s like devoting your entire spring break to a research paper for a class only to have the teacher or professor give you a C.

I think my reaction is probably normal to some degree, but it doesn’t change the confusion, the mind race I’ve been on ever since. When your performance is considered average in a career where only the excellent stand out, only the great seem to survive long-term, it’s not easy to accept.

It’s funny in some ways. I can admit my humiliating dilemma… On my journey to loving myself, I swore I wouldn’t let what other people think about me affect me, define me, in any way. Yet here I am. How easily I fell.

It’s hard to shake the grey cloud above me when I feel so unsteady, when I feel so… unworthy in a way. If my best isn’t good enough, then what am I doing still trying? Why am I pigheadedly still trying to break the barrier? I suppose I must not have given up on myself yet. I suppose the silver lining is that I see a flicker of promise within me still. Maybe I’m realizing that I could do better. Maybe I need to push myself a little more, maybe I need to re-define my limits… Maybe.

I know there is no perfect formula for success. I know I’ve been lucky so far. I know my bad past has offered a plethora of inspiration for my future, which is something to be grateful for.

Doesn’t change the disappointment lingering. It doesn’t radically change my view or the stars beside that title. It only tells me that I have much further to go than I originally thought. Nothing more humbling than that…

It’s always my hope that you enjoy the books I’ve written. I understand that they aren’t for everyone. I’m not above criticism. I’m not ignorant to my flaws. I think it’s always jolting to be pushed into viewing your work differently, especially when the views are opposing. I’m not asking that you change your opinion, that you pity me or console me in any way. I want what I’ve gotten: the hard truth.

It’s a big pill to swallow, but I’m willing to because I care, sometimes too much. I’m not perfect, but I would like to offer the closest thing to it for readers. It’s always going to be a bit saddening when I don’t.

Ok. I’m hopping off my pitiful, depressing soap box for today and going to dive into a bit of music, maybe get out of the house for a bit. I’m going to do something to shake this off before I come back, hopefully, stronger.

Have a great night everyone!

~ Christin

Honesty is the best policy.

Cooperation is a virtue.

That’s what I’ve decided.

I’m near the end of writing Curves & Courage, but the characters have stalled… or rather, a new set of characters came barging in and shoved them aside.

I always have two books going at the same time. It keeps me fresh on both titles, and I find I offer the best story when I do it that way. It’s what works for me.

Sometimes though, one set of characters overrun another, silencing them for a while.

That’s what’s happened with Curves & Courage, with Sophie and Dominick.

I know the end, I can see the scene, but I need their cooperation in order to pen it. I need their voices; I need their emotions coursing through me. I need them in order to finish their story.

The inevitable question will be when.

I really wish I could give you an answer, but the truth is, I’m not sure. If I’m honest, it’s a bit aggravating for me. I’ve invested in these characters. I’ve spent countless hours penning their story… only to hit a wall, only to have them go mute behind a new set of characters.

I could try to force it, but I won’t. I’ve always felt that forceful writing produces forceful stories, stories that lack an eloquent flow and soft transitions.

Don’t get me wrong, I write something every day. But it’s not always books and stories. I write poems, songs, posts, essays, and reflective articles. I don’t limit myself, the same way I don’t limit my characters.

Characters are unpredictable though. Writing can’t be planned, though I try to map it. Really, this entire career is not guaranteed; its success hangs on the cooperation of the many voices in my head, the many characters in my mind, and, of course, you the readers buying these character’s titles.

I hate delivering bad news. I despise having to realign what I thought was a solid writing schedule. But, cooperation truly is a virtue, and sometimes, you just don’t get it.

So, for the moment, I’m writing what comes to me, as I always have. It’s why dates constantly change with me. It’s why I try not to carve anything in stone. I have quite a few books planned, many in line, but I can only focus on the loudest, most prominent set of characters. All the others fade, they blend in and their words ands stories are too distorted to transcribe.

I don’t rush stories; I refuse to offer anything but my best for each set of characters: what I feel is best and what feels right for them. Sometimes, that means being vague; other times, that means unveiling every sordid detail, and yet, at others, it means waiting patiently for them to crawl back out of their shells and share themselves with the world.

Yes, with our world; our crazy, chaotic world. So many fictional characters, paranormal or otherwise, would fit right in with society, as we know it. The world truly is a melting pot, yet so many keep trying to fight the inevitable: they’re trying to segregate the ingredients. Don’t they realize that complex flavors, diversity, enhance rather than diminish?

Many of you know from reading my books that I support equality. My characters support equality. Because I believe, regardless of any discriminatory factors, we all deserve the same thing: happiness. Who am I to tell you how to run your life? Yet, who are you to tell me how to live mine?

Regardless of your religion, there is typically one Supreme Judge, one god or goddess, one deity, one supreme being that decides your worth, your fate, your purpose. Likewise, every religion has a set of rules and laws to abide by; often, the greatest of these is love. As a Christian, my God sat with sinners. He didn’t condemn them for their sins; he didn’t tell them they were un-deserving of what all others had. Rather, he embraced them. He loved them. He treated them per his own golden rule: treat others the way you want to be treated.

If the roles were reversed, if heterosexual (marriage) rights were being cast out, being debated and at risk of being withdrawn, I think it might be eye opening; I think many would realize the oppression they are endorsing.

If you believe that marriage is a right, then ought it be available for all? If you believe marriage is a privilege, then you ought to review your perspective; for privilege is a status, and just as you easily attain it, you could easily lose it.

I’m not saying being different is a sin. I’m not saying your opinion is wrong. I’m stating what I feel is right. Honesty is the best policy, and honestly, I believe judgment, imposing PERSONAL prejudices on others, forcing PERSONAL beliefs upon others, fighting for PERSONAL ideals to be UNIVERSAL laws, is wrong. My God writes my personal laws; my government decides my federal laws, my state decides my local laws, but never should any of them impose upon the other. Separation of church and state exist for a reason. Separation of religion and government exists for a reason: respect.

You cannot treat others the way you want to be treated, my God’s golden rule, if you are oppressing them. If you believe you are entitled to marry whom you choose, then per my God’s golden rule, you must believe all are entitled to marry whom they choose.

Again, that is my God, my religion; these are my beliefs, my purpose statements. And just as I would never cast away my characters for being imperfect; I would never cast aside another human for not living by my own set of rules, for that’s what they are: MINE. Not yours. Not theirs.

Thank you for being patient, for understanding my dilemmas. Thank you for listening to my perspective, for considering my views. I respect yours, as I hope you will respect mine. I respect my character’s choices, the same way I respect, not necessarily support, all of yours.

Have a gay day

~ Christin

Switcharoo!

I have good news and bad news…

I always like to end on a positive note, so I’ll start with the bad news…

Curves & Courage will not be released tomorrow. This book has surpassed the two different word count goals for it thus far, and I don’t see an end in sight. So, on one hand, that means the book will be longer, on the other, it means it will take longer before it’s available. I’m hoping to get a solid grip on it soon, wrapping it up with a nice bow before the end of the week.

Which is why I’m doing a switcharoo.

Noticing that C&C was temporarily bogging me down, I switched focus to sift through the final edits for Two Times the Charm. After a final read through, I’m beyond happy with the entire book. With it completed, Two Times the Charm will now be released tomorrow, and hopefully, Curves & Courage will release on Friday.

I must say, next to Darkness Falls, Two Times the Charm is my greatest literary achievement. I LOVE these characters. I’m so invested in their story. They left a lasting impression on me, and I hope they will have the same impact on you.

Characters never cease to amaze me. They truly do write their own stories. There were times when I was fighting to cut Two Times the Charm short, but Ayden, Josh and Max just wouldn’t let me. I’m so glad I kept with them; I know their story was meant to be as it is, over 101,000 powerful words. They re-defined love for me. They re-defined strength. And, I’m hoping, they re-define something for you.

Two Times the Charm is, hands down, for me, the best book in the entire Alpha Doms series. It’s a book I know I’ll re-read, even as the author. It’s a book I can’t wait for you all (18 & older) to read!

So, the bad news is Curves & Courage will take longer. The good news is, Two Times the Charm is releasing sooner.

I hope you enjoy it!

~ Christin

Two Times the Charm
An Alpha Doms Novel
PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS TITLE IS INTENDED FOR AUDIENCES AGE(S) 18 & OLDER.

Max is a broken woman with secrets drowned in a rough past. She’s looking to start over in a new town several states away. Never did she expect her past to follow her. Neither did she expect to find not one, but two men, anxious to love her.

But they have a secret of their own, and it follows them everywhere.

Ayden is the alpha of the local werewolf pack. Josh is the alpha of the neighboring town’s pack. They grew up together; best friends. There’s little rivalry between these two…until their voluptuous, plus size mate walks into their lives.

Will a shared mate bring these two best friends closer, or tear them apart?

The decision is made for them when their mate turns to them for help. They will stop at nothing to protect Max, but how far are they willing to go?

Learning of their beastly dark side, will Max be able to face them without fear? After all, it’s a past full of fear she’s trying so hard to escape…

~*~