By Pat Cunningham
("Bad Boys" is now available from Siren Classic. Boranaz the demon is determined to prove to Solian the angel that women are into the bad boys. The only speed bump to his scheme is that Boranaz wants to be into Solian. Sometimes romance can be Hell.)
Let me rephrase that. I’m not as good as I could be. That’s why I write every day, to get better. As far as technique goes, I hope it’s working. As for the plots and ideas …
I didn’t set out to deliberately write a M/M paranormal romantic comedy involving angels and demons. It just sort of happened. Specifically, I was trolling the Internet for markets and discovered a publisher wanted stories involving an angel and/or a demon. Fine, said my twisted brain. We’ll give them both. We’ll make them both male. Then we’ll ditch the chick and put the guys together. I hate my brain sometimes.
I’ve got nothing against same-sex pairings. I like a good slash story as much as the next rabid fangirl. I grew up on Star Trek, after all. As a fan of the X-Men as well, I always had my doubts about the Angel. I mean, c’mon. Blond, blue eyes, inhumanly beautiful, wings growing out of his back, calls himself Angel and he’s straight? Suuuurrrre. I still think he and Sauron would have made a cute couple. Maybe it’s a good thing I never became a comic book writer like I wanted to.
The hardest part about writing M/M? For me, it was pronouns. I had to keep using names because “he” could be either. The most fun? Picturing two smoking-hot guys going at each other. Writing is the best damn job on the planet, no foolin’.
I’ve got one other guy-on-guy tale in the pipeline and then it’s back to het. Or maybe I’ll put together all I’ve learned and write a ménage. In this job you never stop learning, and every day is a brand new adventure. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Branded’s Magical Cover Art
Here it is, a sneak peek of my cover art for BRANDED BY THE TEXANS, due out in August 2010 from Siren-BookStrand.Didn’t Amanda Kelsey do a phenomenal, western-magical job? The cover just pops so beautifully and reflects an amber-hued, X-passionate scene in the story.
I feel as if I’m right there, near Pine Springs, Texas and the Guadalupe Mountain grasslands, with my heroine, Kylie, and her cowboy-rancher heroes, Dillon, Dono and Dash.
You can find Amanda at ~ http://razzdazzdesign.com ~
BLURB ~
What can three Texans do to a woman’s body and heart?
Kylie is about to find out.
Beyond her wildest dreams.
On a parallel Earth.
It’s 2009... Kylie is on the run from the law for a crime she didn’t commit. A promising doctoral student, she’s lost everyone and almost everything, except for what she stows in her car. Now, Kylie has to salvage the rest of her life. But, where in this age of GPS tracking, TV’s Most Wanted and cameras everywhere?
It’s 2009... Dillon, Dono and Dash are three brothers desperate for a wife to brand as their own. The Union made women scarce in the Three Star Republic by releasing a bio weapons’ plague during the border wars. These tough-as-leather Texans will do anything to keep the right woman, even if they have to lasso her like a wild filly and love on her until she loves them back.
~~~~~~
HAPPILY EVER AFTER TRAILS
Savanna
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Mother Goose, Meet Louis L'Amour (or, a Western Nursery Rhyme
By Pat Cunningham
(I started this story for an anthology, then got distracted by vampires. I may finish it someday. Until then, enjoy the opening.)
Jillian Spooner shaded her eyes and peered first at the sere expanse of grass her ranch had become, then up at the pale, bleached sky. No clouds at all up there, no promise of relief. No water, no rain. No hope. A phoenix, its brilliant feathers bedraggled from the heat, dropped down to perch briefly on the withered tree beside the corral, uttered a single melancholy squawk, and then flapped on.
Sighing, she trudged to the well and began the tedious process of cranking up enough liquid to fill the trough and water the stock. The horses were a tough breed, descended from fey mares her grandfather had brought up from the south. They could live on dew and the wild beans whose vines crisscrossed the pastures, but not forever. They needed grass and grain to stay healthy. All the valley did. There must be water, and soon.
Jill turned gritty, bitter eyes to the north, to Fountain Hill. The spring on its peak, it was said, had been a gift of the benevolent, maternal Goose Woman herself, enchanted to never run dry. In happier times water had tumbled in an unending cataract from that hidden source, and irrigated the entire valley. But times change, and magic ends. The track of the cataract gleamed like a bone, the Goose River had shrunk to a narrow trickle in its cracked and brick-dry bed, and what people said of Goose Woman now Jill would not repeat.
The Spooners had their well, but that was not nearly enough. The Peterses, their nearest neighbors, had already packed up and gone, leaving their pumpkins to split and curl beneath the merciless sun. The widow Mary Sparks, contrary to the last, clung stubbornly to her parched garden patch. She’d outlasted troubles worse than this, she said, and vowed to sit tight. Jill wanted badly to do the same, but how long could they hold on?
With the trough three-quarters full, Jill set to drawing two last buckets for herself and Uncle Orly. Alerted by the scent of water, the horses drifted in, their once-bright faerie coats now dulled by dust. Her heart ached to see them so. “I’ll make it better,” she promised them. “Somehow.”
Phaedra, the lead mare, halted abruptly. She turned her head and pricked her ears toward the wavery horizon. Jill squinted along the line of her interest and spotted movement. Another neighbor pulling out? That didn’t look like a wagon. That was a rider, headed for the ranch.
Jill set the bucket down, suddenly alert. She’d left her rifle inside. Before she could move toward the house, however, something about the rider struck her as familiar. She froze in place, staring, as her heart did a series of painful flips and her throat became a dry and dusty echo of the land. All the while the rider drew ever nearer, nearer.
Jack.
She stood rooted to the earth and let him approach her. No mistaking him now. Within the lean, rangy face and form of the man she could still make out the sparkling eyes and careless ease of the boy she’d known. That brought back to her mind the careless
, easy way those eyes had broken her heart, just before he’d ridden off without a word to her. Her legs found their resolve again, and she reconsidered a dash for her rifle.
Too late. He reined his horse to a stop just inside the gate. She automatically assessed the stallion with a horsewoman’s practiced eye. Those eyes grew wide. A tigerstripe! Their fey blood mingled with Gorgon; it was said they couldn’t be tamed. Yet horse bore rider with no complaint. No easy or careless man could get near a wild tigerstripe, let alone catch it and break it to saddle. She peered more closely at his face, suddenly uncertain. Perhaps this wasn’t Jack after all.
His voice dispelled her doubts. “Jillian,” he said. Just that, but it broke open her heart and flooded through her like a torrent down an arroyo. Somehow her mouth found enough liquid to swallow.
“Jack. You’re – ” She couldn’t go on.
“I’m back,” he said simply. He removed his hat. There were the sparkling eyes and the lean face with its easy smile. The eyes did not sparkle as brightly, but the smile still invited a woman’s confidence, and tempted her lips to touch his. A dangerous thing, that smile. First in the hands of the boy he’d been, especially now on the face of the man he’d become. Jill tried to steel herself against it, and already felt herself faltering. The bucket weighed like lead in her hand, but she couldn’t look away from him long enough to set it down.
“What do you want?” she managed.
She wavered anew before his frank stare. As if he were assessing her, as she had his horse. The tigerstripe eyed the mares at the trough. Jack looked at her with much the same expression.
“I’ve come home,” he said, “to claim what’s mine.”
Before she could respond to this, a rifle clacked behind her, startling them both. The tigerstripe skinned back its lips, revealing teeth far too sharp for a normal horse. Jill risked a glance over her shoulder. Uncle Orly stood in the doorway, the rifle trained on Jack.
Jack only smiled. “Orlando Spooner. Peaceable as ever. How’s that dance-hall girl you got to run away with you?”
“She run off on me. What do you think?” Uncle Orly settled his aim on Jack’s chest. “You ride on, Horner, and you keep on riding. You’re not welcome here.”
“Too bad. That gal was quite a dish.” He resettled his hat on his head, and tipped its brim to Jill.”Jillian. I’ll be seeing you again.”
“No, you won’t,” Uncle Orly said,. “There’s no place for you in Goose Valley. You be on your way.”
Jack smiled to them both, but mostly at Jill. He turned the tigerstripe and rode off at a leisurely trot.
Uncle Orly didn’t lower the rifle until Jack had traveled well byeond the gate. “Horner,” he muttered. “Like we didn’t have enough trouble. You all right, sweetheart?”
That was debatable. Up until five minutes ago she’d have sworn before the parson Jack’s return would not affect her, that she’d cried him out of her system years back. That was before he’d trained his eyes on her and made that remark about claiming. Somehow the pain and the years between dissolved before those eyes.
Mentally she shook herself. She was no woman to wear a man’s brand. Certainly not Jack Horner’s. She hefted the bucket. “I’ll be all right,” she assured her uncle. “Let’s get dinner started.”
(I started this story for an anthology, then got distracted by vampires. I may finish it someday. Until then, enjoy the opening.)
Jillian Spooner shaded her eyes and peered first at the sere expanse of grass her ranch had become, then up at the pale, bleached sky. No clouds at all up there, no promise of relief. No water, no rain. No hope. A phoenix, its brilliant feathers bedraggled from the heat, dropped down to perch briefly on the withered tree beside the corral, uttered a single melancholy squawk, and then flapped on.
Sighing, she trudged to the well and began the tedious process of cranking up enough liquid to fill the trough and water the stock. The horses were a tough breed, descended from fey mares her grandfather had brought up from the south. They could live on dew and the wild beans whose vines crisscrossed the pastures, but not forever. They needed grass and grain to stay healthy. All the valley did. There must be water, and soon.
Jill turned gritty, bitter eyes to the north, to Fountain Hill. The spring on its peak, it was said, had been a gift of the benevolent, maternal Goose Woman herself, enchanted to never run dry. In happier times water had tumbled in an unending cataract from that hidden source, and irrigated the entire valley. But times change, and magic ends. The track of the cataract gleamed like a bone, the Goose River had shrunk to a narrow trickle in its cracked and brick-dry bed, and what people said of Goose Woman now Jill would not repeat.
The Spooners had their well, but that was not nearly enough. The Peterses, their nearest neighbors, had already packed up and gone, leaving their pumpkins to split and curl beneath the merciless sun. The widow Mary Sparks, contrary to the last, clung stubbornly to her parched garden patch. She’d outlasted troubles worse than this, she said, and vowed to sit tight. Jill wanted badly to do the same, but how long could they hold on?
With the trough three-quarters full, Jill set to drawing two last buckets for herself and Uncle Orly. Alerted by the scent of water, the horses drifted in, their once-bright faerie coats now dulled by dust. Her heart ached to see them so. “I’ll make it better,” she promised them. “Somehow.”
Phaedra, the lead mare, halted abruptly. She turned her head and pricked her ears toward the wavery horizon. Jill squinted along the line of her interest and spotted movement. Another neighbor pulling out? That didn’t look like a wagon. That was a rider, headed for the ranch.
Jill set the bucket down, suddenly alert. She’d left her rifle inside. Before she could move toward the house, however, something about the rider struck her as familiar. She froze in place, staring, as her heart did a series of painful flips and her throat became a dry and dusty echo of the land. All the while the rider drew ever nearer, nearer.
Jack.
She stood rooted to the earth and let him approach her. No mistaking him now. Within the lean, rangy face and form of the man she could still make out the sparkling eyes and careless ease of the boy she’d known. That brought back to her mind the careless
, easy way those eyes had broken her heart, just before he’d ridden off without a word to her. Her legs found their resolve again, and she reconsidered a dash for her rifle.
Too late. He reined his horse to a stop just inside the gate. She automatically assessed the stallion with a horsewoman’s practiced eye. Those eyes grew wide. A tigerstripe! Their fey blood mingled with Gorgon; it was said they couldn’t be tamed. Yet horse bore rider with no complaint. No easy or careless man could get near a wild tigerstripe, let alone catch it and break it to saddle. She peered more closely at his face, suddenly uncertain. Perhaps this wasn’t Jack after all.
His voice dispelled her doubts. “Jillian,” he said. Just that, but it broke open her heart and flooded through her like a torrent down an arroyo. Somehow her mouth found enough liquid to swallow.
“Jack. You’re – ” She couldn’t go on.
“I’m back,” he said simply. He removed his hat. There were the sparkling eyes and the lean face with its easy smile. The eyes did not sparkle as brightly, but the smile still invited a woman’s confidence, and tempted her lips to touch his. A dangerous thing, that smile. First in the hands of the boy he’d been, especially now on the face of the man he’d become. Jill tried to steel herself against it, and already felt herself faltering. The bucket weighed like lead in her hand, but she couldn’t look away from him long enough to set it down.
“What do you want?” she managed.
She wavered anew before his frank stare. As if he were assessing her, as she had his horse. The tigerstripe eyed the mares at the trough. Jack looked at her with much the same expression.
“I’ve come home,” he said, “to claim what’s mine.”
Before she could respond to this, a rifle clacked behind her, startling them both. The tigerstripe skinned back its lips, revealing teeth far too sharp for a normal horse. Jill risked a glance over her shoulder. Uncle Orly stood in the doorway, the rifle trained on Jack.
Jack only smiled. “Orlando Spooner. Peaceable as ever. How’s that dance-hall girl you got to run away with you?”
“She run off on me. What do you think?” Uncle Orly settled his aim on Jack’s chest. “You ride on, Horner, and you keep on riding. You’re not welcome here.”
“Too bad. That gal was quite a dish.” He resettled his hat on his head, and tipped its brim to Jill.”Jillian. I’ll be seeing you again.”
“No, you won’t,” Uncle Orly said,. “There’s no place for you in Goose Valley. You be on your way.”
Jack smiled to them both, but mostly at Jill. He turned the tigerstripe and rode off at a leisurely trot.
Uncle Orly didn’t lower the rifle until Jack had traveled well byeond the gate. “Horner,” he muttered. “Like we didn’t have enough trouble. You all right, sweetheart?”
That was debatable. Up until five minutes ago she’d have sworn before the parson Jack’s return would not affect her, that she’d cried him out of her system years back. That was before he’d trained his eyes on her and made that remark about claiming. Somehow the pain and the years between dissolved before those eyes.
Mentally she shook herself. She was no woman to wear a man’s brand. Certainly not Jack Horner’s. She hefted the bucket. “I’ll be all right,” she assured her uncle. “Let’s get dinner started.”
Monday, April 26, 2010
Magical Snippet from KANDY APPLE FOR HALLOWEEN
Currently, I’m writing a story that includes all sorts of magic and magick... my heroes are physically similar to Pierce Brosnan in their human form... here’s a little blurb ~What happens when two of Hades’ most mission-accomplished Hellhounds find just the right witch for Halloween?
~~~
Dance scene snippet [unedited] ~
Not doubting that for a second, Kandace followed him as he walked backwards with a dancer’s lithe power. The dark glisten of his eyes compelled her to match his movements.
“Zin.”
The sensation of her body flowing toward him became real as his arm clasped her waist and he pressed her against his virility. That’s what he felt like, hard polished virility. His beast smoky scent didn’t merely fill her nostrils, but seeped into every crevice of her, including her sweltering sex crevice.
Zin dreamily whirled her onto a surface meant for dancing. Like magic, ceiling lights created a silvery blue radiance around them. In her head Ella Fitzgerald’s beyond-compare voice crooned what Kandace felt.
“You do that something to me, that something that simply mystifies me,” she sang just for Zin.
He paused, draping her over his arm, his gaze blatant with desire, yet lit with curiosity.
“Tell me why should it be,” she throatily continued, “you have the power to hypnotize me?”
“My Kandy Apple,” he rasped so seductively, she wasn’t quite prepared for his next move.
With utter ease, he twirled her, then brought her flush against him. He swayed her body with such suave demand, Kandace clung to him, molten to her core.
Definitely magic, the melody from Cole Porter’s song enveloped them.
~~~~~~
HAPPY SAMANTHA NOSE TWITCHING...
Savanna
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
The Magic of the Western is Back... say yeehaw!
The magic of the Western is back, only bigger and better. Why? Because for one thing there’s a happily ever after ending. In the golden, shoot ‘em up days of the TV western, mostly the love interests would be killed off or die, or marry someone else other than the main characters. It was REALLY disappointing, I can tell ya. And, my heart hurt, a lot.The Western Romance novel is better and bigger, now, because authors/aspiring authors have embraced the genre in every heat level. And, I mean *every* heat level, from sweet to xxx-erotic. Plus, paranormal authors are offering up their subgenre versions with werewolves, ghosts and vampires, just to give you a sampling.
Yep, pardner, a lot of readers are gobbling them up, and only wanting more to feast on. For example, Siren-BookStrand’s new line, Menage Everlasting, is based on the lustful doings of cowboys in the West and the Old West. Already, the books are top sellers. Wild Rose Press has offered Western romances for several years now. Check out Celia Yeary, author of TEXAS BLUE, SHOWDOWN AT SOUTH FORK and ALL MY HOPES AND DREAMS. Also, I’ve noticed Ellora’s Cave has jumped on board the Wild, Wild West train.
And, why not? Western heroes are definitely a natural as those alphas many of us love and can’t get enough of. They’re the type of *real* man many of us sigh over and fantasize about. Oh yeah, many of us ladies want to ride off into the sunset with our own rugged hero. After all, why should he be alone and lonely?
I cut my teeth on the first Western TV shows. I would race down on Saturday mornings as a little kid to watch Gene Autry and especially, his horse, Champion. I graduated to Roy Rogers and Trigger, the golden wonder horse. Dale Evans starred as his partner in getting the bad guys, riding her horse, Buttermilk. Now, that was women’s liberation before it came about. There was also, Fury, starring the *now in heaven* Peter Graves.
No, over the years, there weren’t many Western shows and movies I could resist. Some of my TV absolute faves ~ The Lone Ranger, Disney’s Zorro, Bonanza, The Virginian, Bat Masterson, The Texan, Rawhide and, of course! Wild, Wild West.
More recently, I think it was the early 90's, Bruce Campbell starred in an offbeat, highly imaginative Western, The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr. I loved that show and thought it was absolutely incredible in its scope and themes.
This post wouldn’t be complete, if I didn’t include western erotic romance author, Gem Sivad, and give a big WAHOOOO! Of congratulations to her for all of her success with INTIMATE STRANGERS, WOLF’S TENDER and A STAGED AFFAIR.
Her BREED TRUE has just earned two FIVE reviews, one from a review site that should know an exceptional western, Love Western Romances ~
According to Rose~
“Breed True starts off with a bang…after the initial explosion of activity, the author sets out to help the reader unravel Jewel’s life, one piece of the puzzle at a time.
AND!
Got Romance Reviews ~ Reviewer: Suki
“First I need to preface this review by saying how I rarely read western Romances, those few that I have read I haven’t enjoyed. That just changed.
~~~
Yep, this is also a self-serving blog since my own, BRANDED BY THE TEXANS, is due out in August 2010 ~ from Siren-BookStrand. I’ve always, always! Wanted to pen a Western with a happily ever after, where the heroine rules and is just as strong as the hero. I mean it’s been a huge ole itch that’s never gone away. As a running-around-the-neighborhood kid, I would wear my Annie Oakley Halloween costume, complete with pistol. Definitely, a foreshadowing of this story and all Western stories I’d like to write in the future.
Here’s an *unedited* snippet scene, where my heroine, Kylie, is feeling Wanted: Dead or Alive... and has just crossed the dimensional divide.
Heading outside, she surveyed her surroundings as she moved to her car. A tall broad-shouldered man in a tan Western suit, complete with bolo, gassed up what looked like a Caddy. Sidling in front of her pump, Kylie checked out the directions, then unscrewed her gas cap.
“Need some assistance, ma’am?” the Caddy Cowboy asked politely. He tipped his impressive cream-colored Stetson as Kylie met his gaze. “I can fill ‘er up in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
Kylie blinked at the old phrase he’d used. “Thanks. I think I can handle it.”
“It’s, okay, ma’am, I’m not moving in on another man’s territory. Happily married myself.” He extended his hand flashing a wide gold band on his ring finger. “Mabel wouldn’t be happy if she knew I didn’t give you a hand.”
Kylie knew when she’d been defeated in a good way. She gave a nod and stepped back. “Thanks.” She was about to say her name again, but realized she shouldn’t be doing that anymore. In fact, she probably needed to decide on another name, and get used to it fast.
With smooth efficiency, he handled the nozzle gassing up her car. “There ya go, little lady. And don’t you worry, you’ll be married in no time.” He screwed her gas cap back on. “Come to Texas from the eastern states?” he asked.
Kylie’s brain felt like it spun, and she saw the image of whirling clothes inside a dryer. Where had that come from married in no time? Still, she’d better go with the flow. “I came from the east. Does it show a lot?”
“Yer accent, mostly. But we have a few ladies that make it across the border the way you have, lookin’ for a better life.”
Border? “I am looking for a better way of life.”
Turning on his boot heel, he tipped his hat again. “It’s right around the corner I’m bettin’, little lady.”
~~~~~~
HAPPILY EVER AFTER TRAILS
Savanna
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
Friday, April 2, 2010
Magical April Showers
Yes, it’s definitely showering on my tame prairie, one of those deep gray days, one of those magical April showers that brings forth Mother Nature’s life after a long winter’s sleep.Earlier a storm moved through, the winds tremendous for awhile. I’ve noticed the force of nature is increasing and will probably continue as we move through these times, the Quickening, as it is called by some.
Here, the daffodils and jonquils are also blooming up a storm and the green is taking over day by day. A couple of days ago I bought some organic cherry tomato seeds with the hope that I’ll get them planted... that I will be able to care for them well enough to enjoy the fruits of my labors.
This weekend the decorated colored eggs are taking over and so are the bunnies... chocolate bunnies in all different shapes and sizes, dark chocolate, milk chocolate. What about all those stuffed toy rabbits? So many are much too adorable to resist.
There are several treasure in my personal Easter basket right now, as far as my writerly career. I have my two print copies of STALLION OF ASH AND FLAME, hot off the Siren-BookStrand presses. Yes, it was lightly smooched upon arrival.
Each of my books has had its own journey toward publication. None of those journeys has been easy. Fun, yes, and definitely magical, but also exceedingly, exceptionally difficult at times. And, yes, I am very proud of each story, of the effort I’ve put forth and continue to put forth.
Another treasure is my next scheduled release, BRANDED BY THE TEXANS, due out in ebook in August 2010, then in print February 2011. I just e-sent my blurbies and info to Siren-BookStrand in preparation. And, the amazing cover artist, Amanda Kelsey, will be doing the cover art. So, I’ve been working on the questionnaire.
Here’s the long blurb ~
What can three Texans do to a woman’s body and heart?
Kylie is about to find out.
Beyond her wildest dreams.
On a parallel Earth.
It’s 2009... Kylie is on the run from the law for a crime she didn’t commit. A promising doctoral student, she’s lost everyone and almost everything, except for what she stows in her car. Now, Kylie has to salvage the rest of her life. But, where in this age of GPS tracking, TV’s Most Wanted and cameras everywhere?
It’s 2009... Dillon, Dono and Dash are three brothers desperate for a wife to brand as their own. The Union made women scarce in the Three Star Republic by releasing a bio weapons’ plague during the border wars. These tough-as-leather Texans will do anything to keep the right woman, even if they have to lasso her like a wild filly and love on her until she loves them back.
~~~~~~
Yep, there’s lots of treasure eggs in my author’s basket. I recently penned a short story, THE TIGER’S MASQUERADE, for submission to a Halloween anthology. We’ll see. If this doesn’t work out, I think the story will find a good home. Tiger was a romp to write and definitely a pantsing adventure.
Now, I’m caught between two of my WIPs. After Branded, I’ve been doing the intense writing on my black wolf story, THE BLACK WOLF’S PROPHETESS. However, if I want my WIP ~ KANDY APPLE FOR HALLOWEEN ~ to have a shot at being pubbed for Halloween, it has to be finished in May... so what’s an author girl to do? I haven’t decided.
~~~~~~
But, Hey, it’s Easter and no, unfortunately, I don’t have a rabbit shapeshifter Easter story coming out. What I do have is this Easter greeting from Bekki Lynn, my author friend who hangs out with me at the HAPPILY EVER AFTER blog. I thought I’d share it here just because it’s fun and clever... and yep, true.
All I need to know
I learned from the Easter Bunny!
Don't put all your eggs in one basket.
Everyone needs a friend who is all ears.
There's no such thing as too much candy.
All work and no play can make you a basket case.
A cute tail attracts a lot of attention.
Everyone is entitled to a bad hare day.
Let happy thoughts multiply like rabbits.
Some body parts should be floppy.
Keep your paws off of other people's jelly beans.
Good things come in small, sugar coated packages.
The grass is always greener in someone else's basket.
To show your true colors, you have to come out of the shell.
The best things in life are still sweet and gooey.
May the joy of the season fill your heart.
AND MAY GOD BLESS YOU!
Happy Easter!
Savanna
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~
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