Ipad

I'm typing this short post via an Ipad. It never ceases to amaze me the way technology gives us these newer devices that brings the world to us in a way that we are able to get our message out there in a matter of seconds.

The laptop may become obsolete. I see the pros and cons. Focus on the writing might be difficult only because a device like an Ipad offers so much at this point it seems unlimitless in what is can do.

I feel as if I'm only touching the very tip of the iceberg.

2011 I think will be a very interesting year indeed.

Another Year Passed

I'm sure others will agree when I ask where in the heck did 2010 go?  I mean not to sound too cliche but it seems as if we were just getting into 2010 when here we are almost into 2011.   I'm not sure I care for the idea that the time is speeding by at break neck speeds that leave me wondering what I did over these last 12 months of THIS year.

Okay I did manage to put up a mini series on Amazon.com which has been earning a steadier rate of readers. 

I managed to get into my laptop ALL the letters written between my parents during WWII (160) that actually tells the tale of a delightful love story as well as why my parents stayed together for over 65 plus years before they passed on seven years ago.

My production level as a writer has somehow not kept up with my goals to produce.  I am hoping that in 2011 both will get into sync once again so that I can complete the projects that are in process of becoming more that just WIP's on a back burner.

Meantime, I'm gearing up to celebrate in incoming new year and hope that things will turn around for all of us so that we all accomplish the goals we have set for ourselves whatever goals they may be.

Time Flies By Too Darn Fast

I can't believe that my last posting here was in September and here it is December 13.   Where did the time go I'm now asking myself? 

I could blame it on the holiday seasons, yet that's not really going to fly.  Writers do not "not" write during any season.  Taking out a few minutes every day for a blog isn't asking for much.

Yet, I'm trying to determine what prevented me from blogging here on a regular basis.

I'm sure I'll come up with something.

I'm thinking it might be because of my working on a couple of non-fiction projects.  Now I'm at the point where I need to get back into more fiction.

Or maybe because once the cold weather settled in I'm simply not working as fast or as long as I used to but instead find myself cuddled up on the sofa with one of my "blankies" over me and sipping hot ginger tea.

I do know that the last WIP in the Pleasure of Our Company series has been waiting for me to get to it, and get to it pronto?

Okay, now I'm also thinking that I may have incurred a bit of "writer's block."   It happens.  I wrote a good part of that story but came to a dead halt.  Something inside my brain simply would not operate on the level that could have enabled me to finish that story.  It needed to gel.   What I mean by gelling, it needed to settle down somewhere inside my brain, perculate for a time until I knew where the heck I was going to go with that story.

You see there are inherent evil doings in these stories.  The evil is palpable.  And I suddenly find myself unable to deal with this evil and so immerse myself in other types of writings, such as memoirs of my parents...letters they wrote to each other while my dad served in the army during WWII   -  1942 - 1945.  There are between them over 160 letters that actually form a storyline, even a plot with a beginning, middle, and ending. 

This of course took me away from the "evil" that permeates through my mini series The Pleasure of Our Company.

Also, as those of us who live here in Connecticut,  know the Petit trial started in September.  This is the trial of one of two monsters who wreaked unspeakable horrifying acts against an innocent family in the town of Cheshire, Connecticut...only 29 minutes from where I live.  If anyone cares to read it, an occurrence of synchronicity happened just before this trial began.  I write about it at my other blog/newsletter.   I think once the trial began, once again my focus became redirected as a result my WIP's needed to wait until I was ready to bring my attention back to them.

What happened on that terrible July morning in 2007 at the Petit house only confirms that evil does exist in our world and that it can as it did with me take us off track from living our ordinary days.

I do know because of the evil that occurred here in Connecticut, future stories in my own series will take on greater meaning, namely that we must become aware of this evil around us, not  ignore it, and always be on guard to what is really happening around us by becoming a bit more vigilant with our own.

Yes, I agree as many will say I'm sure...it's a hell of a way to live but in today's modern times probably quite necessary.

The verdict was I think a just verdict made by jurors who gave this first defendant the death penalty on numerous accounts.  Justice was served here in Connecticut.  Next summer another trial begins as the second monster is brought to justice. If  only those two depraved souls had listened to the voice of reason and compassion instead of acting upon a voice whose origin can only be designated as pure unadulterated evil lives would have been spared. 

Okay today I'll focus my attention on Rhonda's Story, which will be the 8th story in my series.

What Do Dreams Really Mean?

Some dreams vanish upon awakening.  Some dreams remain with us throughout the day.  I'm not sure if it was the lamb chop I ate, the broccoli, spinach salad, or puree squash.  Maybe it was the two cups of chamomille tea and the two cookies that I enjoyed at a late hour.  I don't know. 

I dreamt that I was pregnant.  Yep, at least six months.  I felt very fat in the dream, all of it in my stomach.  In the dream itself I knew how old I was and though I didn't feel that old I kept telling myself when this baby is ten years old, I'm going to be very old.  This baby is going to be a lot younger than my oldest granddaughter, etc.  I kept saying to myself will I survive the delivery?  How am I going to keep up with raising this child?  What kind of energy will I even have when this child is only ten years old.  On and on and on my mind raced inside that dream. 

Then I woke up to the sounds of thunder and when I pushed the drapes open spotted lightning in the distance.  

Pure relief swept over me.  I looked over at my PeekaPoo dog who was looking back at me.  Hallelujah!  It was only a dream! 

Unlike my heroine in my story NIGHT FANTASIES, which recently earned some nice reviews, I certainly did want to wake up from that dream, and realize it was only just that. 

Still, I wonder what this type of dream about being pregnant especially for a woman way past child bearing years actually means.

Now I do have to add that while getting x-rays at a local chiropractor's office, there was this huge sign stating to let the technician know whether or not I was pregnant.  In fact it was the doctor who asked me, and I remember telling her if I am, then it's a miracle! 

Perhaps my mind simply stored that away where it would come out later in the form of a dream. 

Who knows. 

All I know is that I'm very very happy that this was only a dream. 

 

WHOO! WHOO! 5 RATING REVIEW BY DELIGHTFUL DIVA

NIGHT FANTASIES RECEIVED A RATING OF 5 FROM DELIGHTFUL DIVAS

This is my first book by Collette Thomas and I really liked it and read it quickly. The characters have values and were considerate of each other's feelings. Collette brought up issues of divorce, but only to show that Valerie and Ross were vulnerable, yet still open to a new relationship. She makes you feel all warm and fuzzy for Ross and you want to take him home and snuggle up with him on the couch (or bed). He's Valerie's macho hero who helps her out of a couple jams (no pun intended) with her catering jobs. She realizes he's a man's man, but still not afraid to help her out in the kitchen.




I highly recommend Night Fantasies by Collette Thomas and I hope to read more from her in the near future!

Rated 5 Delightful Divas and a Recommended Read by Shelly!



CLICK HERE To Read Entire Review :

EXCERPT:

Valerie stood in the middle of Russ Harper’s cabin, clutching her small purple beaded bag. Now what?
His cabin, far roomier than the one she shared with Jessica, contained more amenities-a compact refrigerator and a microwave took up one small corner space.
You never needed to leave this room if you chose not to. Russ Harper probably always went first class. Valerie wondered what he did for a living that allowed these luxuries-not that it mattered a whole lot. She was content to stay in the present-a present where she could indulge in such fantasies.
In all probability they would not see each other again after the cruise. Like ocean tides, shipboard romances came and went. Once back in the states, her fantasies would burst like floating crowns of soap bubbles, reminding her that her ordinary life held no room for the exotic.
Or, she thought, repressing a giggle, the erotic.
She sat on the bed, which seemed to fill the room, and ventured a look his way.
Russ held a bottle of expensive champagne. He winked at her. Soon the sound of a popping cork broke the silence.
As Russ Harper moved about, the flexing of well-developed muscles was obvious even through the expensive fitted shirt.
"I like the dress," Russ remarked as he effortlessly removed the cork. "Deep purple is your color." He handed her a slender crystal flute he had just filled with the bubbling wine.
Her eyes never left his as she took a tentative sip. A tiny indiscernible voice warned her to leave. She still had time to save herself.
"I’m not sure I should’ve come," she found the courage to admit.
"There’s no reason to be nervous," he said, moving closer. With one finger he gently stroked her bottom lip. "We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We can talk…get to know each other better. I do like this purple dress," he softly repeated, his eyes gently raking over her form. "This is definitely your color. Whenever I think about this night, I will always remember you in this dress. It may haunt my dreams.”


BUY LINK FOR NIGHT FANTASIES:

A Case of Mistaken Identity

A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY

Warning:  Strong explicit sexual language, bdsm, menage

Blurb:  A story of double deception:

At the request of his father, Jonathan Wetherall the Third agrees to meet his childhood nemesis for a week of fun and relaxation.  He arrives at the airport expecting a red-headed, blue-eyed pain in the neck.  Instead he finds an attractive overly sexy woman doing a bad job of impersonating her roommate.

Determined to show her a thing or two, Jonathan pretends to be a stranger, calling himself Flynt Adams, a cowboy from Albuquerque.   

While waiting to meet the skinny nerd described by her roommate, Myrna Dunbar is approached by a blond jock dressed like a cowboy motorcycle bum.  Convinced that Jonathan has decided to stand up her roommate, she must now decide whether to accept this stranger’s offer of fun and adventure or return to her lonely, unexciting life.

Hot Sex with a Stranger is a coming of age story that leaves very little, if anything, to the imagination as it explores the world of bondage, submission and everything in between.

Excerpt:

Myrna pressed her hand to her mouth stifling any sound that might escape and give her away.  She’d become a voyeur, she mused.  Yet realizing this did not have her pull away, or shutting the door.  Instead she watched as Adrienne manipulated Art’s cock, and again, wondered…could she?  Would she dare?

This certainly was not the Adrienne who taught Myrna how to throw a curve ball when they played on the high school softball team.

This certainly was not the Adrienne who baked gingerbread cookies for the holidays.  Only last Christmas they put together a gingerbread house, and donated it to a local women’s shelter.

Some irrational fear curled inside Myrna forcing the realization that although at times she suspected this side of Adrienne she now had to accept the fact Adrienne allowed men these certain liberties.

She stared as Adrienne put her palms on Art’s muscled thighs, then brought her lips to the tip of his cock.  Art sighed, entangling his fingertips into her roommate’s hair while inch by inch his cock disappeared into Adrienne’s mouth. 

Myrna stared as Adrienne’s fingertips ran along the silky skin of his balls, sliding her fingertips behind. 

“Ahhh, don’t stop!” Art begged. 

Adrienne sucked, and swallowed, and taunted him with her tongue.

Myrna could only stare, and wonder as questions queued up inside her mind.  What did it feel like?  How did it taste?  It looked as if Adrienne was truly enjoying what she was doing to this man who was obviously in the throes of sheer ecstasy. 

A fucking blow job, Myrna’s mind cried.  Her roommate was good at giving fucking blow jobs.  Who knew?  Could they ever again share the task of making a gingerbread house? 

Sudden envy filled Myrna at the sight of Art in such rapture as Adrienne fiercely worked her mouth along the length of him.  Myrna couldn’t help feel these two people had truly become one—putting sex in motion, with Adrienne in control.

When was the last time Myrna controlled any situation?  The thought set off a spark of anger somewhere inside.

Moments later Art gently pushed Adrienne down to the soft carpet and spread her thighs a part.  A gasp escaped Adrienne’s lips then cried out, “Fuck me!  Fuck me hard!”

            Myrna let out a sharp gasp, not remembering if Adrienne had ever said that word that loud in her presence.  Hearing it now under these circumstances ignited a strange wondrous heat that Myrna knew was not going to dissipate soon.  She could almost smell her roommate’s sweet wet cunt.  She focused on Art’s ‘manhood’ hard and erect demonstrating to the world it was indeed ready to do its work.

He lowered himself and Myrna watched the tight lean butt of perfection while her roommate disappeared from view.

She watched the gorgeous undulating butt.

She watched as he entered Adrienne’s pussy.

Watched as heated flesh undulated against heated flesh.

Watched as Art hungrily sought out Adrienne’s lustful wantonness, caring nothing about consequences except to fully satisfy his need. 

Myrna didn’t think it got any simpler. 

No love involved here she decided.

No emotions that confused their ultimate goal.

Nothing erroneously elevating this act to anything more than what it was—the pursuit of sheer sexual pleasure and gratification.

It left Myrna disoriented.  Left her wondering if she could ever play out a similar role.  Or would propriety and moral conscience deny her the pleasure?  Although she suddenly felt she might survive the guilt inherent in such acts, and learn to live with any regret later if she ever traveled this road. 

Myrna knew from the erotic adventures depicted in those erotic novels Adrienne kept in her room that she could not picture herself performing any of these depraved act.  Never.

Not Myrna Dunbar, safe never sorry Myrna Dunbar.

Nonetheless, blood pounded inside her head and made her realize she could not deny that she enjoyed watching these two explore, brazenly act out every part of whatever fantasy they had chosen to play out.

            Muscles rippled beneath Art’s firm taut skin as he straddled Adrienne, stretched his limbered torso across her naked form and took control.

The sight of Adrienne’s submission caused Myrna’s pussy to become wet and wanting and imaged him taking that same control of her.

BUY LINK:  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B002K2RFHC

Collette Thomas

NEWSLETTER:  http://www.newsletterofcollettethomas.blogspot.com

When Fiction and Reality Merge

The other day I took a ride down a road located in my area.  This particular road I've mentioned before in earlier posts.  The name of the road is the same as the name of my series - Todd Hollow.  

It was a bright summer day producing deep well defined shadows.  Driving down the winding roadway, through what can look like a tunnel of tall trees, the shadows were quite pronounced.  The smalls lakes were high from the rainfull.  Some of the water had become discolored probably by growing algae beneath the surface.  The road produces a polarizing effect in that there are some really nice homes, but not far from these are small shacks, and what looked like abandoned trailers.  An abandoned horse trailer, rusted, dented, some of the brownish paint showing through gives a sense of not only abandonment, but also a sinister air of perhaps evil wrongdoing having been committed. 

Images of submerged bodies float through my mind.  I think of the stories I can write, and the fact that horrific events can occur along any road inhabited by ordinary folks. 

Yep, that's the way the mind of a writer works, at least my mind.  

Within our subconscious I think writers already create ahead of time their stories where they can germinate, percolate, and eventually come to fruition.  

The what if's fly fast and furious.  

We as writers don't just see through the boughs of trees, we see past them, into another dimension where roles are played out as good and evil battle it out.

 

Who remembers Pet Cemetery?  

Who remembers the road Stephen King writes about -- a back road in Maine -- similar to this road I talk about where fast moving trucks barrel by, some filled with newly cut timber?  And who remembers what happens to the main character's pet cat?   I was an avid Stephen King fan and so I continue somewhere in my psyche to become inspired by this genre.

A sense of impending doom fills me to some degree whenever I take the time to drive down Todd Hollow Road.  

Yes, I am inspired.  Story ideas queue up inside my brain, triggering those innermost cells to store the images so that when I sit down at my computer, I draft up a storyline that serves as somewhat of a catharsis or release for my own fears of the unknown.  

The third story in Todd Hollow is doing just that.  I know it is.  I feel this energy swirling inside me, plus an anticipation as well.  I want to get started.  In fact  I know before the distractions of these summer months I did start the third book.  The characters are waiting for me.  One in particular who must drum up the courage within himself to return to a place that had stolen from him his most prized possession.   Do I know what that is yet?  Somewhere in the nucleus of the cells of my brain, the part that stores memories from past times, I do.

Tonight I will again remember to lock my doors! 

One sight that greets the eye along Todd Hollow Road.

Yes, the truck on the right reads PHANTOM TRANSPORT.  This was taken last spring.  It is no longer there as of yesterday.  I'm thinking it disappeared, and just maybe might be found at the very bottom of the pond that is now covered with a thin coat of algae. 

Through these boughs I envison not only the lake waters, but something 

sinister ... something that will ensure I keep my doors locked at night. 

DEADLY GAMES and DEADLY AFFAIRS can be found at DAMNATION BOOKS  - The first two stories in my TODD HOLLOW SERIES.