Welcome Back To Indigo Plains

The brand new chapter for Patchwork and Pitchforks will be live on January 1st. Thank you for reading and happy new year

Helloooo! Yes, I am back with more Patchwork and Pitchforks! I have been writing it, I swear! I’ve just been juggling a lot, like self-doubt and impostor syndrome. I gotta tackle this monster in 2025! I have to subdue it! I must! And I will! Anyway, I want to post more and I plan on doing just that. This story is dear to me. I love these characters and where they’ve taken me so far. The world is bigger than I thought it’d be. Exploring every aspect will be fun, and hopefully, y’all like it too. Have a wonderful day and thanks for stopping by!

Merry and Bright!

Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! And I know! I’m a few days late, but Happy Solstice! I hope everyone has had a fantastical day with loved ones, pets, or alone. However you celebrate, I hope you are happy and relaxed. Please be gentle with yourself in the coming year. It may be easier said than done -in my case- but it isn’t impossible.
Extend grace and gratitude to yourself. Thank yourself for the little things. When times are rough, take a breath and do whatever brings you joy. I don’t give a damn what that is. Cling to your hobbies, films, crafts, and/or books. Write what you want, read what you want, and be who you want to be! I am taking my own advice here. I want to be one with my inner child and write, read, and create, with a smile.
Let’s be Merry and Bright but in our own way! Have a lovely evening and thanks for stopping by!

My Favorite August Reads

I made it, I’m here y’all! Six days late but here we are. I’m still getting the hang of this blog thing. Anyway! August was DARK! I read a ton of horror that involved darker themes such as murder, death, and trauma. An honorable mention is Briardark, but it didn’t quite make it on the list. Now, before I crown my number one pick let me tell you to read all content warnings. If you’d love to read Library At Mount Char but have triggers i will give you a heads-up. Intense acts of violence, violence against kids, murder, gore, blood, death, assault, SA (caught me off guard)

i don’t have triggers and don’t read them, so I just grimaced and turned the page. LAMC is a horror book. I know some will say it’s dark sci-fi fantasy but there are horrific moments )in my opinion) that catapult this into the horror genre. It’s by no means extreme horror but it toed the boundary.

Midnight Rooms is another you must understand from the beginning, it is gothic horror darning on the jagged rim of Dark Romance. Which remember, is seldom healthy. If you don’t read said sub-genre great, move along. The other two are light romance reads I thoroughly enjoyed. No complaints. There might be one or two acts of violence in each book but nothing heavy.

I adored these books for my emotional response. Each novel pulled a visceral reaction from me and that’s what I call good storytelling. It’s my type of glorious word weaving. I will say the ending in LAMC left a sour taste on my tongue, and maybe that’s what the author wanted, I have no idea. I wanted blood-stained justice and didn’t get it. BUT! My expectations are a me problem, not an author problem.

With the talking bits done, I wanna give that five outta five, number one spot to Midnight Rooms. I have to! I was smelling mold and drinking down honey thick tea. it was a terrific dive into a surreal fantasy world with many secrets and some were left shrouded in mystery. Whatever this author writes i will buy!

Chapter One: In Which A Demon Needs Help And A Hug

CW: Explicit language, dark roleplay,

Jasper

Boxes gnashed their teeth, daring to bite her fucking head off. With even more in the moving pod, Jasper was in over her horns and didn’t know where to start. Moving alone was hell, and she’d been there. No, like she’d lived in hell for most of her life. As a succubus and adviser to Duke of the Fourth Seal, she knew a little something about hell.
This was it.

Handling another taped and lopsided box, Jasper climbed the stairs. She stepped with caution, avoiding holes. Her new house was two hundred years old and a steal. Jasper wanted a home she could grow with and thanks to the success of her creative streak, life was better. Not great, but good.

“Could be worse,” she mumbled, entering the master. Or something like it. Unnamable substances stained tattered strips of wallpaper and the ceiling. “Well, fuck.” She dropped the box of Petite Pop figures and huffed. This was an impulse buy. She’d come up on a few dollars and lost her goddamn mind. With only ten years worth of top-side living under her belt, she still had much to learn. With no help from her father or mother, Jasper was on her own. She didn’t want to hump her way to the money like most of her siblings. Nah. She had her own plans and way of hoarding coins.

“And I’ve done well,” she admitted to a stuffy, dust-filled quiet. The master was nothing more than squealing floorboards, a queen-sized bed, and her ancient laptop. Windows with no drapes was ghetto, but they were boarded anyway.
“This was sooooo, stupid.” Taking it all in Jasper stomped her foot and yelped as her boot fractured what was left of creaking, rickety planks.
Splintered wood snagged and scratched her ankle. “This is fu-ow!” She yanked her poor foot loose and flailed, dropping on her ass. Jasper massaged torn skin and grunted.
“What the hell am I going to do?”

With a telling moisture on her butt, she sighed. This house was a shit hole. Falling apart at the literal seams. She gestured at a giant crack behind her headboard.
Spiderwebs and must. Mildew and broken pipes. She was about to breathe fire and raze the joint to the ground until a knock at the front door interrupted her bad decision.
Jasper sat, waiting for a second rap. She’d moved to Indigo Plains three days ago and didn’t know a soul in the rural town. Miles from the big, stank city, she had no friends.
A third knock got her up and limping downstairs. She’d heal quicker with a bite of raw sinewy flesh or a sip of male passion, buuuut she had neither at the moment.
From the vestibule, Jasper noted a smiling old, self-tanned lady.
Opening the door, Jasper grinned. “Hello.”

“Why look at you!” The elder beamed, holding a fine-looking roast. “It’s been a while since we done had demons ’round these parts. You are mighty tall, ma’am.”
“I get that a lot. What you got there?”
“Oh, this? It’s my famous rump roast. Jerry, my husband of forty years loves it and so do most folks in the neighborhood. Ask Maryanne and Bob Warring, down the way. They’ll tell ya.”
“I can smell the garlic, Ma’am.”
“No, noooo…call me Sissy. I ain’t been a Ma’am in many moons.”

Jasper laughed, casting her gaze about. It was a hot August afternoon with the heat making cicadas scream. Jasper didn’t have air conditioning and was certain the human woman might faint, Warm for Jasper meant unbearable for a human. Ominous odors and humidity were a bad sign as well.

“I’d invite you inside,” Jasper said, “but this place isn’t so welcoming at the moment.”
Sissy waved a jewelry-adorned hand, her bracelets clanging and glinting in the midday sun. “It’s alright. I can smell the mold. I’d rather not anyhow. I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood with a hot meal.”
“You are so kind,” Jasper accepted the heavy ceramic dish and said,“I’ll be sure to give this back.”
The woman wagged a papery finger. “I’ll come uh looking for it. Don’t you worry.”
“Thank you again.”

Sissy giggled and left with the twirl of her tie-dye skirt. She was an adorable elder with pink hair and pure intentions. Her emotions tasted sweet, akin to butterscotch. Jasper snickered, remembering she was probably a hundred years older. With the hot offering in hand, she kicked the door closed and dined in what was considered a kitchen. It was missing a stove and cabinet doors, but it might be nice one day. Jasper stood where the breakfast nook would be and impaled bits with a plastic fork. She attacked steaming beef, carrots, baby reds, and caramelized onions. After a decent burp, she popped open a hot beer and guzzled every ounce.

“That was amazing.” Belly full to bursting she was ready to take on the task at hand. “I have no fucking idea what to do.” She kicked a box of Tupperware and groaned. “Guess I’ll buy some tools and watch DIY videos.”


Nieema

Nieema hated working at the hardware store. It wasn’t fun and it smelled like sawdust. Granted, they cut and sanded wood in-store…for free. Stocking shelves with nails, bits, and such wasn’t her idea of a good time, but it was only fair. Keeping to it, she stacked tubes of caulk into a caddy and bobbed her head to an oldie. She set the playlist and be damned if anybody changed it. For the hundredth time, she’d told them not to touch her music. god forbid she say it again.

“Can I get some help around here?!”
Nieema winced and rounded the stack with her hands full. “Do you need help, sir?”

“You god damn right I do. I come looking for a new chainsaw. What row are they in?”
The man flicked his filthy cowboy hat and spat. He flashed gold fangs and snapped his gum. He was a cruel-looking fella, and Nieema cleared her throat.
“They’re uhm—“
“Speak up, shit.”
“Isle three.”
“You one of them Porter gals? I heard about y’all.”
“No, no. I’m not.“

The burly man made off down the row and Nieema hustled behind the counter. Their store wasn’t too big, with only ten aisles, but some folks got lost.

“The—“
“Where the fuck is it?“
“On the back wall.“
He cursed, finding the high-power chainsaws. Nieema didn’t want to know what a man like him would do with the tool. He was a fae of some make, but she was unsure which. His dark eyes and claws didn’t say much

As he stalked toward her, Nieema swallowed and tried not to stutter, it was tough.
He slammed the chainsaw on pockmarked pine that was older than her and spat again.

“How much I owe ya?”
Nieema brushed sweat from her upper lip and glanced at the tag. “Two hundred and—“
“Two what?! Two hundred dollars? Ohhh, what game are you running in here? Are you tryna scam me, darlin’?”
“No! No, I would never.“
With a death glare pinned on her, he squinted. “I got fifty-seven dollars in my pocket. You can take that, or…I can pay in other ways.”
Nieema gasped, her heart daring to claw its way through her chest. She searched for an escape as he rounded the long counter. “Wai—“
“I don’t like no women trying to steal from me. Just cause I’m an honest hardworking man don’t mean I’m dumb.”
“I did—‘
“Shut your mouth!”

Nieema planted both hands on the wall and prayed to the gods. His obsidian gaze flickered with fire and life, he was of the dark fae for certain.

“You’ll take the fifty and I’ll take something from you—“
A single, sharp talon grazed her cheek. He loomed, smelling of sweat, mint, and a cherry-scented smoke. Her throat closed and body quaked.
The bell sounded and Nieema pinched his nipple. Mister Fussy hissed and laughed.

“Ain’t shit funny,” Nieema whispered. “Clean that spit up off my floor or so help me, Buck, I’ll break your behind.”
“You had your chance, darlin’. And I made it easy.” Buck popped his gum, cracked his back, and lept over the counter.
“You hush, I wasn’t giving in so easily.”
“You were sweatin’, I got you on camera.” He pointed at the ball on the ceiling and tried on a wolfish grin. “We’ll play it back during them wee hours and see just how fast you fold.”
Nieema cackled and tended to their customer. Well wasn’t this a sight. A demon, of the red sort. It was safe to say, they were a succubus. Horns and all. She had to be about six-foot and hard bodied.
“Suck my toes, mama. She is rather fine.”
“Would you cut it,” Nieema snipped. “She looks lost.”
“We can help her find any and everything..“
“Did you clean your mess, Buck?”
“Not yet bu—“
“Get to it, old man. I am not playing with you.”
“Don’t pester me, vampire. I’ll give it to you good.”
Nieema winked and patted Buck’s arm. “I can only hope.”

With her freaky deaky husband occupied, Nieema sidled up to the succubus and smiled.
“You need help finding something, suga?”
“Hell yeah..” The tall woman slouched and shrugged. Her voice was rough and sultry. As if she had dragon fire caught in her throat. “I watched videos about paint, floors, mold, pests, and corroded pipes. I don’t even know how to hang a frame. Installing a stove is beyond me. I just bought the house on Weaver Avenue and I’m outta my element. I thought a fixer might be a cute learning experience. I was wrong. The house is shit.“
“Whoa, haaay.” Nieema went to soothe her through touch and stopped herself. Not everyone was tactile, and succubi had a specific way of feeding. “It’s alright. You’re okay. Listen, I come from a long line of contractors. My mama and daddy damn near built this town. If you’d like, I can help.”
“Me too!” Buck said, tossing the broom. “Hello, there, I am Buck Sunside, and this is my lovely daisy of a bride, Nieema. It just so happens we own a contracting firm, the only one in all of Indigo Plains.”

The woman slapped her wide chest and smiled. Her teeth dazzled. Needly as a pin and long. Nieema touched her neck and batted lashes. The towering succubus was a looker, and Buck knew it, too. He was staring hard enough.
They were on the same page. After one-hundred-plus years of marriage and seven kids, they were open to pretty much anything.

“I’m so sorry honey,” Nieema said. “What’d you say your name was?”
“Jasper.”
“How progressive.”
“I thought it was adorable. Everybody says I look like a Jasper.”
“They were right,” Buck added. “So, if you’d like, we can come on by. Take a look around and see what the damage is?”
“Uh, I don’t know.” Jasper grimaced, fiddling with a tangled mess of glittering gold chains. “I heard quotes are expensive.“
“On the house,” Nieema blurted. “Listen here, anyone who moves to Indigo Plains and lays roots is my kinda people. If you’re serious about making this your home, then we are here to help.”
Buck nodded in agreement. “Yup. We don’t need the money with the new mall opening and such. All hands on deck, as they say, we all you got for now.”
“I’m nobody to refuse help.” Jasper shook a box of nails and said, “When can you stop by?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Oh shit, that’d be great. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“It’s a good thing you walked into our store, Jasper.”
The succubus smiled and placed the box casting nails back on the shelf. “Thanks. It was nice meeting you, Mr and Mrs Sunsde Have a good night.”

Combat boots and a sundress. It was a deadly combination and Nieema knew well what women like that had to offer. Her calves were large and striking. Buck sniffed and Nieema hummed.

“She’ll be in our bed by next Monday.”
Nieema tweaked a brow and craned her neck. Buck was a god amongst man and smiled like he knew. “She’ll be at my feet long before she sits on your crotchety lap, Mista.”
“Oh woman, you underestimate me!”
“She’s young,” Nieema said, shoving Buck aside. “I can smell it.”
“I’d say a century or two.”
“Hm. That’s why you lookin’ crazy, old fool.”
“My heart and soul belong to you, Mrs Sunside. My dick, however—“

Nieema pounced on her man, locking arms and legs around him. He rumbled with mirth as their lips met. Nieema used her mental will to lock the door. They’d be closed for the next fifteen to twenty minutes.

What To Expect From Patchwork and Pitchforks

Set in the fictional town of Indigo Plains, Patchwork and Pitchforks is a paranormal romance serial with splashes of adventure, horror, and mystery. The main couple and cast will encounter strange happenings in the rural town. Magic and mayhem will ensue but just know, romance is the plot. Please do not misunderstand, I write romance. Kissyface and smashing will be the bread and butter of my stories. I love love, intimacy and smut. You will get all of that and more.

You may find throughout this serial supporting characters get some air-time. Yes, there will be sidequests! I love them, I’m so sorrrry. Serials are about ensembles, right? Can’t say who will get what and when, but I will read comments on this.

I am a planster. I know the characters and the setting, that’s it. I will give ocntent warnings as I go.

I know a few straightaway and they are:

Patchwork and Pitchforks

Be prepared for fluff, steam, romance, and paranormal happenings!

After Jasper Marrow relocates to Indigo Plains she’s prepared for paint, hammers, and broken nails. What she finds on moving day is more than she cares to deal with. Busted pipes, growing mold, and an eager-to-please married couple offer too much excitement for one night.

All Jasper wants is her new-ish house fixed and perhaps exorcised. When the happy duo extends a helping hand and free temporary housing, she has no choice but to accept.

This isn’t close to what I normally write, but I wanted something cute on Whitney Houston’s internet. I’ve been trying to do light and fluffy for months. And I don’t know, I thought why not put it out there.

Sad Girl Summer is Almost Over!!!

Here’s to a beautiful new month and Bi romance month! I love y’all! I am coming into my season and feeling better! I have said it a few times already, but I’m gonna let y’all know, summer makes me sad. I get in my feelings and I feel like shit from May to July. I’m just noooot, at my best. I’m unhappy and sappy. My vibes are at their lowest during those insufferable summer months. Granted, we are still in the summer swing, but the hot hoe is reaching its end. I can feel it in the air!.

Most hate fall and winter, but not eyyyye. We prefer them colder months over here. The sun and I have a contentious connection. I do not like her, and she don’t like me. I love the nocturnal and gloomy with my entire heart. I thrive during frigid winter nights. Dreary and dark is where I draw inspiration and vitality. I prefer dusk over dawn and rain to sunshine. It is who i am, and with summer approaching its inevitable end, I can breathe with ease.

My goal for this month is to be. Just, be. Be gentle with myself. Be at peace. Be calm. Be the positivity I wish to attract. Also, I just wanna write. I want to write what I WANT AND NOT CARE! I do that already, but when you’re a SM junkie, all the advice and takes can dampen ones creativity and mood. There are A LOT of opinions out there about the art of writing, but I don’t give a shit. I just don’t care.

AUTHORS & WRITERS CAN’T CARE! AND WE SHOULDN’T.

iyI’ve been doing this too long, I know better! Yes, I am a reader as well i know how we can get about our opinions, but as an author and a writer, that spce is not for me to dwell. Reader opinions are just that, and I can’t take any of it to heart. It will only hinder my ability to create. I have decided to block those posts and tweets, because they can be harmful. This is not me saying they shouldn’t post them, I don’t care, post whatever you want. That’s what the mute button is for. Some of y’all need to learn about it too. Anyway. I’m rambling but, you get it. I’m a mess. It’s Inevitable. I’m gonna veer. I’m a habitual veer=er! With all of that, I say have a nice day, drink water, and don’t be KHHNT!

“My alma mater was books, a good library…. I could spend the rest of my life reading, just satisfying my curiosity.” – Malcolm X

Daily writing prompt
List 30 things that make you happy.

I love many mannnnny things. This is so easy. It might seem kinda plain, but, this is true happiness in my book.

  1. My Sons
  2. Movies
  3. Books
  4. Writing
  5. Videogames
  6. Nachos
  7. Headphones
  8. Stickers
  9. Funko Pops
  10. Novelty Items
  11. Dogs
  12. Birds
  13. Music
  14. Star Wars
  15. Tiny Houses
  16. Forestry
  17. Minerals/Crystals/Gems/Rocks
  18. Bread
  19. Tea/Coffee
  20. A Clean House
  21. Graphic Tees
  22. Venom/Deadpool/Vampires
  23. Rugby
  24. Peanut Butter
  25. Traveling By Train
  26. Adult Coloring Books
  27. Handmade Items
  28. Socked Feet
  29. Amusement Parks
  30. A New Pen

You Can & You Will

Five months ago, I set out to write a shorter novel and have done it! Brevity, as I’ve stated before, is my weakness. I am a long writer who enjoys 100k+ word counts. I am not apologizing for that. I still prefer them, but I wanted to challenge myself. I wanted to put my ass through it. I needed this exercise. It was a great lesson. Now, my shortest book is 43k not, 91k. I went in with a 15k goal. Clearly, I was off by a couple thousand. Lol. But, I still set out to accomplish this thing. This goal I made for reasons other than to prove to myself I could do it. For those like me, writing short stories is unfamiliar and hard. Cutting details and world-building down to a chapter or two is not fun.

My typical genre is paranormal romance and urban fantasy. Those books are known to be longer but in the world of indie, standards such as word counts do not exist. We can write a 30k hard fantasy if we want. We can write a 20k hard sci-fi epic if we so please. My point is, the industry standard is no longer my goal post, however, I will STILL prefer longer novels for paranormal romance but that doesn’t mean I won’t write shorter ones. It’s difficult, not impossible,

If you’ve set a personal goal, and it seems unreachable, REACH FOR IT! You can do this thing! I doubted myself for a long time. Said I could never write a shorter novel, it was too hard. Well, I did it and I pushed through until typing ‘The End’. Believe in yourself and whatever it is you want to achieve, I promise it’s worth the work.

“From my point of view, your life is already a miracle of chance waiting for you to shape its destiny.” ~ Toni Morrison

Himbos Have Nerve

One thing I love most about himbo characters besides their blissful, confident ignorance is their wisdom during heated moments. They transform into arrogant intellectuals who have the answers to all your more personal problems.
Scrap may not know the difference between temperature and temperamental, but he knows enough, honey.
After forty years of never getting there, Zion is about to learn what, ‘reach the mountain top truly means.