Roxanna Cross's Blog, page 5

Priest

Priest by Sierra Simone




Review is also available on my site: https://roxannacross.com/2025/01/18/b...

Most readers would consider this book taboo because of the forbidden aspect Simone bursts wide open; however, the taboos get lost early on, so if this is what attracted you to this book, here is a fair warning: this book might not be for you. However, if you’re a reader looking for pure smut and spicy sex scenes, then Simone has got those in spades.

Tyler Bell, a Priest who became one for reasons other than true vocation, is instantly enthralled by an unknown female who’s walked into his confessional booth. Her raspy voice bewitches him, and he can’t wait for the following confession hours so he can see her again. His obsession with her grows, and every time, he finds ways to justify his actions, telling himself God wants him to be with her, even to the point of saying he can feel the benevolence of God while being balls deep inside of her. He’s delusional, acts out in anger and jealousy, and he’s like a petulant teenager half the time, and yet he claims to do it all in God’s name. It’s ridiculous.

Poppy Danforth is a non-catholic seeking redemption for trivial sins; she’s manipulative and uses sex as a weapon. She encourages Tyler to break his vows, asks for more, and says she won’t be the reason for him losing his job; she’s a hypocrite. After a thirty-second encounter, the insta lust between the two characters is barely believable; the insta love is more challenging to digest.

Simone wrote this book mainly in the male POV, and it’s well executed. However, Tyler’s inner monologues are primarily excuses for the sins he’s committed and reasons to keep on living in sin with Poppy because God has a plan for him, and perhaps that was her intent to show no remorse, and for him to have no repercussion from the clergy for his actions, it just didn’t ring true. The few chapters in the female perspective were about sex, giving readers no real substance into her psyche except for the fact that she’s a spoiled little rich girl who gets what she wants.

Where Simone’s writing truly shone was in the sex scenes: the BDSM aspects, the submission, the dirty talk; she brought readers into each smutty experience with ease, if only that would have been the case for the entirety of the book, making this a 3-star read.



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Disconnect

This is day two where the pressure of my never ending migraine has been pressing in on me like a ton of bricks. Making it impossible for me to sit at the computer long enough to write anything let alone edit. I feel my mind going numb from this disconnect with the written word.

So much so that I am barreling through the pain to reach my writing goal of the day – add 1k to my manuscript.

My other goal of the day is to read at least three of the incoming chapters of the novel I am beta reading.

With these goals set I already feel the connection reaffirming.

Tweens x 3

I don’t know if it’s the fact that my body is no longer running on my 80 parts water / 40 parts coffee, but I find that I’m lacking the energy to keep up with my three tween daughters.

My youngest who’s nine and halfish (the halfish is crutial to her), my middle one is ten nearly eleven and my oldest is just turned twelve and started high school.

Now, it’s Saturday and I am running on only four cups of coffee and my house is a stampede zone. The friends from last night’s sleep over are running out, the friends for the day are running in and the only thing my mind captures is that it’s more coffee to make sense of all the blurring shapes.

Not to mention keep up with the bowling, soccer and basket ball schedules of the weekend or the arts and crafts project overrunning my kitchen table or the science experiment that’s a disaster waiting to happen in my basement.

Oh, yeah my body is just twitching for caffeine…

Who’s got a bad case of withdrawal she says sarcastically as she re-reads for typos!

Sweeter by abstinence

Well that thought was short lived.

My first sip of the morning has been long gone, so have my two mugs (four cups) of coffee. To top it all off today is a PD day.

All my girls are home from school and fighting like cats. Just when my hands reaches across my keyboard to grab on my mug I realize, once again, that the coffee quota of the day as already been breached.

Can I cheat just this once? If only to keep my insanity…

Hoops

In my endeavor to jump through the latest hoop on the path of ridding myself of this killer-on-going migraine I need to come up with a plan to give up caffeine – my one and only lifelong addiction.

Both my neurologist and my husband agree that I can’t quit cold turkey as that would simply aggravate the migraine to a higher pain point. So the solution – create a coffee reduction plan.

Sounds easy enough right?

Wrong!

See, before when people and by people I mean medical professional I’ve meet along this road of curing my plaguing head asked me how much coffee I ingested in a day I simply said two maybe three cups; which they seem to take in stride. Thank God, I never admitted that my cup was actually a mug - a tall large mug that I fill to the brim three if not four times each morning.

With this plan I need to incorporate in my life I had to actually measure how much coffee I poured into that mug… drum roll… two and half cups of coffee fits perfectly well in my mug times the number refills turns out I’m drinking anywhere from seven point five to ten cups of coffee per day. And this is when I’m at home only.

Back when I wasn’t stuck on sick leave, oh the wistful memories of my crazy-no-time-on-my-plate days, I was drinking up to six or seven mugs of coffee during my twelve-fourteen hour days. Which means I was drinking anywhere between fifteen to eighteen cups of coffee per day.

It turns out that when I jokingly told my friends that I was 80 parts water and 20 parts caffeine I wasn’t far off the mark.

You can imagine with this consumption rate cutting down will be excruciating for me. However, I was a good girl today and only refilled my mug twice. The urge to make a fresh pot is very strong, but like my resolve to write one journal entry a day I am determined to stick this out and get rid of my caffeinated crutch.

Abstinence for the rest of the day it will make that first sip tomorrow morning that much sweeter… at least this is what I am telling myself at the moment.

The Artist’s Way Continued

Without the constant teenage angst pumping through me I find it difficult to commit to journal entry writing.

I’ve been starting at this white page on and off since early this morning. Now hours later I figure I need to write something – anything. If only to prove that I can do this simple writing exercise.

I can’t help but wonder if Julia Cameron herself keeps to it religiously… Or if there are days that her mind goes blank –as blank as this page used to be – and she decides not go through with her morning pages.

Not that it would make me feel less guilty if she did. No, the guilt would still be there and the self-reprimand of failure to accomplish such a simple task would drip in my mind voice.

Take a deep breath.

I can do this. For each day – one entry. Even if it’s just a few lines, well okay that’d be a cheat of sorts, it’s recommended to write a full page… what if I don’t have enough in me to fill the page?

I think the point of the exercise, to clear the pipes, sort of speak would still be accomplished just by getting whatever more or less gibberish is running inside my brain out whether it fills a full page or not.

Is any of this making sense… probably not… and its okay.

Mission accomplished – entry done and logged.

Juggling

Up until three and half months ago my life was a complete juggle for time. I worked anywhere between fifty to seventy hours a week, coached my daughters bowling teams six hours a week and wrote and edited none.

When a migraine started in early June, which is nothing new I’ve been have them on and off since the age of fourteen, I figured a couple of days rest and couple a tablets later I’d be back to my regular-hectic routine.

Wrong.

This is the migraine that never ends. I’ve been on sick leave since June 10 trying new pain killers and going through all the testing hoops the neurologist sees fits to make me jump.

I went from juggling for time to have having to fill twenty-two hours out of twenty-four. Oh, crazy side effect from either the pain or the meds – insomnia is now my BFF.

At first trying to read or write just angered the pain battling my brain. Now, I don’t know if it’s because I have better meds or my tolerance simply increased I can manage a few hours of writing per day and more hours reading.

I’ve accomplished more in writing endeavors in the last six weeks than I did throughout the last two years… I should be happy right?

Yes and no.

Yes, because I’ve submitted three polished pieces for publication two of which have been accepted, crossing fingers on third. Started shitty 1st draft on new novel ¾ done and re-patched an old manuscript together – cringe at the editing process or re-write…

No, because I miss my crazy busy schedule. Being an invalid at home that can’t drive anywhere due to heavy migraine symptoms i.e. dizziness, queasiness and troubled vision well you get the drift driving and this combo – bad. If that wasn’t bad enough the new hoop I must jump; drop my coffee addiction.

Is that even doable??

The Artist's way

Julia Cameron suggests to keep a journal of morning pages... this is an exercise that I've often picked up and dropped over the years. It seems that I’ve never able to keep up the practice religiously.

Unlike my journal when I was a teen.

Back then, everyday if not multiple times a day, did I pour out my thoughts and emotions in my journal. So why I am unable to keep with Julia’s Cameron suggestion… have I outgrown the journal entry writing stage of my life? I don’t think so. At least I hope not.

I got to thinking that maybe it’s the pen to paper that turns me off. Actual handwriting is something I’ve not done in while, exception being letters to nowhere. Nowhere, only because I can’t send them up to the Heavens to reach my grandfather and my grams - I am okay with that.

But I digress.

I was thinking that if I can’t seem to actually pick up a pen every morning to write on actual paper then I might as well start a blog. My very first one. And see if this way I’ll be able to keep up with this morning pages idea.

Today my thoughts are scrambled.

I know I should push myself to at least add another few thousand words to one of my ongoing manuscript to at least get the shitty first draft done and over it. I also know that I should complete patching up the manuscript that I’ve botched/destroyed/deleted/burned –yes burned – and then re-created only to abandon in a pile of dust bunnies under my bed. I really should re-piece it. No, I should just start over from scratch… again. But just can’t seem to get my butt in gear to do any of it.

I also have some read to review books that I need to finish. Sitting down in my rocking chair with a cup of spicy chai tea and my Kindle sounds good right about now.

Guess my mind is made up for my daily activities. Who knows maybe after I’m done reading the inspiration to write will strike…