I Did It!!!

Okay, I took a month off of writing everyone’s beloved Ægir’s to work on something else…a novella for an anthology with my writing group. I had also hoped to write Labor’s End…Book 2 of Sergeant Mike’s Miracle Tour, but that did not happen. So now I am under double pressure to write that and new Ægir’s Wife. Oh the things I do to please ya’ll…but you’re worth it…or I hope one day this will be.

Anyway a bit of a teaser about Nothing Done in Love…

Katie is an inexperienced kindergarten teacher, who is losing her beloved mother to breast cancer.

Or a couple of them...
Or a couple of them…

Chance and Chase are identical twin brothers and former Navy SEALs who have spent a decade in some of the toughest war zones on this planet. With the emotional…and physical scars to show for it. But the one thing that always got them through the toughest of times was remembering that special night when they came so close to heaven…when they held their best friend in their arms and shared stolen kisses with the one woman they both loved…and always would.

Now they are back in her life, called by her dying mother to help her through the dark days to come. Because the one thing that psychic activist Joy Danver’s always taught her only child was…Nothing Done in Love…can ever be wrong.

Too Naked?

The other week I asked my cover artist to do something that I don’t usually do…put naked people on my cover for Njord’s Captive (changing the name for the ebooks from Ægir’s). But being the control freak that I am, I took the time to find the ‘perfect’ characters for Kirsty, Sven, Mikael and Bjorn. And I learned some things…

If finding a sexy, curvy woman is hard, finding a man over 35 without his shirt on and that smoky hot smoldering look…is IMPOSSIBLE. So men take note…after 35 you have to stop being sexy and put your shirts on. I literally got a headache looking for Svein (new spelling too). Thanks to the real Bjørn an online friend who is helping with the Swedish as well as cultural perspectives that will make the ebooks better than the first drafts…he also helped me to find a decent Svein. But note…even he is wearing a shirt…just an open on…WTF?

So here it is…the rough draft of the cover…with watermarks of course…

What you think?
What you think?

Then I learned something very disappointing…when it comes to Amazon there really is such a thing as TOO NAKED. And Kirsty is in this photo… Evidently having your bits covered is not enough to keep something from being so offensive that it earns an Adult-Content warning from them.

So folks…what do YOU think? Is that cover too sexy? Do Mikael, Sven, Bjorn and Kirsty (left to right) match what you think of them? And how is Sven for sexy 40?

Will the true Wonder Woman please stand up?

Life sucks… That is actually one of my deepest tenants. Whether you are a single mother with a special needs child. Or battling a life limiting illness (depression, autism, diabetes, cancer, MS, who cares they all qualify). Or are one of the true super heroes, the men and women who served their country only to be left alone to suffer the after-effects of PTSD. Hell, from the looks of the headlines even spoiled brats have so many problems and pains that they turn to drugs that kill them in the end. Like I said… life SUX.

My other tenant though is… Love is the only thing that makes it worth living. Now as a romantic and an idealist, I want and have spent a whole fucking lifetime looking for that illusive thing called a soul-mate. That one special person that makes you complete. And maybe such a thing does exist. Maybe out there somewhere…the world is a big place after all. But who has the time or patience to wait for some day? Someone else to make you happy?

Maybe not the Hollywood version, but MY true heroine nonetheless.
Maybe not the Hollywood version, but MY true heroine nonetheless.

A few months ago as I was going through this really tough place, I was a meme on FaceBook. It was Wonder Woman (the Linda Carter one) and it said…

She needed a hero.
So she became one.

And I thought…too fucking right. Stop waiting for someone else to save your ass. Stop waiting for one day. Stop waiting to win the lottery. Just stop waiting.

If you want change, if you want love, if you want success…do it your own damned self. As Ghandi said…be the change you seek.

So last week when I went to Comic Con, I knew I had to go as Wonder Woman. And let me tell you…I earned my fucking cape that day (I still am). Nothing went to plan…does it fucking ever? It was one of the toughest days of my life…and I am still dealing with the repercussions of that day. But I am doing it. I am making my choices based upon my ideals, beliefs and the best information I have available at the time. Which is all that any of us can do.

So hell yeah, I might not be 20-something. I might not be model thin. I might not be a pretty as someone else. Or as smart. Or definitely as rich. But damn it, I am all I got. And I will fucking take care of business…cause I am a TRUE Wonder Woman.

What super hero are you?

The Collar

NOTE: This journal is not about role play, in the club or bedroom stuff, where those are the terms…I am talking RELATIONSHIP, commitment and lifestyle.

I read a journal writing on K&P today about collars…and it brought up old feelings. My story is pretty much the opposite of that authors, who craved a collar…as soon as possible. In fact, I identify more with her daddy for whom the collar had such special significance that he would rather wait, building love, trust and commitment. But that always has been me.

When I first began to explore this side of me almost three years ago, it was because of a series of books about US Marine Doms by a writer named Kallypso Masters. Her stuff may be hot but it is pure romance. And has little to nothing to do with the realities of this lifestyle…as I have discovered the very hard way over the past three years.

One of the things with which she is completely out of step in terms of the BDSM community (at least the one I have known here) is the collar. In her books, the Rescue Me saga, a collar is as strong a symbol…if not more so than a wedding band. I bought that one…hook, line and sinker. I used to say…I have worn two wedding bands, I shall only ever wear one collar.

Of course, anyone who knows Doms knows that is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. I had a play partner, who kept trying to get me to wear a ‘play’ collar. I had a mentor, who wanted me to wear a ‘training’ one. I even went to a club once, where their over-the-top shit got my girlfriend punished for bringing someone who was not ‘submissive’ enough to wear the ‘house’ collar for the night. And my first Dom…slapped a huge Medieval steel one around my neck, kissed me and said ‘Mine.’ That was the beginning of the end for us as we truly saw the significance of that differently.

Then there was him. I honestly thought I had done it all right this time…loads of negotiations, talking about the serious stuff…especially the fact that I wanted a ‘real’ relationship. So when he gave me a collar, I used to stay truly stupid shit like the only way it came off was if they pried it from my cold, dead hands.

Until the day I discovered something…we did not see a collar the same way either. To me, a collar was as much his acceptance of the responsibility to care for and cherish me as it was a symbol of ownership. To him…a collar only meant…you are mine (what it said actually). And that meant he could do what he wanted with me…regardless of how it affected me. I was convenience…there for him when he wanted, and put away in some corner of his mind when he did not.

I remember going to events and watching as subs with these huge, wide leather, studded monstrosities walked around with a leash attached to the D-rings on collar. The sub would be holding the other end of that leash in their hand…while their Dom was busy doing his/her thing. Then when the Dom wanted them, they immediately jumped and handed the other end of the leash to them. That was what I had with him…and it was bull shit.

Domination is not something that you turn on and off when it is convenient. If I did that with my submission, ‘sorry, I am too busy/tired/whatever today to be your sub,’ I would be called on it…punished? Released? And rightly so. Why should a sub settle for your Domination when it suits your needs?

So when I discovered that he and I saw a collar and the responsibilities of a Dom to his collared sub differently, I did the only thing that I could…I asked to be released from it. He agreed. But even then…I as the sub could not bring myself to remove the damned thing…that was not right. He agreed to having a mutual friend remove it. In the end though, it was more symbolic than that, my older daughter called bull shit on it and jerked the damned thing over my head and tossed it across the table…on Independence Day…one year and three years ago today. How cool was that?

cropped-collar-logo.jpgAs I read that journal…a year plus later…how do I feel about collars now? Honestly as idealistic as the moment I first read about them in Kallypso Master’s books. Today I wear MY own collar…a reminder that no matter what…if I never kneel before or submit to another man…I cannot change who/what I am. I am a submissive…with or without a collar.

And until or unless a Dom truly understands as her Daddy did the significance of that symbol…I am quite happy with…To Thine Own Self Be True. And the right Dom for me appreciates that…and me. He would not want anything less.

Why I Make Pancakes for my son’s XXX…

My adult son that teaches in China is visiting for a month. He lived at home for almost a year between university and moving there to teach. And in that time we formed a bit of a tradition…every time he has ‘overnight guests’ (i.e. brings a girl home to screw) I make them breakfast in bed. Usually I say something along the lines of…this is for putting up with my son. I know…only in my fucked up family.

But there is a story behind this tradition. I was nineteen. I had only lost my virginity a couple of months before. He was one of my first lovers…either a member of the band, bouncer or bartender I forget which. I went back to his after the bar closed that night. Mind you ‘his’ was a bachelor pad studio in his parents’ basement. But the guy was in his twenties, divorced and with a kid…so hardly a child.

Around noon the next day as I was laying in his bed, naked still, his mother barges…without knocking into the room…shouting at the top of her lungs…Get your whore out of my house…you are both going to burn in hell.

Did you miss the bit about me being an ‘almost’ virgin still at this point? Hell, a year before that I might have met this woman in church…where I taught Sunday school. And I knew my bible well enough to know…let he who is without sin cast the first stone.

We dressed and went out drinking and riding four-wheelers for the rest of the day. But that stuck with me…and I knew then that I would NEVER be that Mom. Even with the ones that I don’t particularly like (and there have been a few clingy bitches that I wanted to tell…have some dignity)…I still make breakfast, chat and do all I can to set them at ease. Which oddly enough sometimes makes them more uncomfortable than I was that Sunday morning…go figure.

So here is what they got this morning…Chocolate chip pancakes with chocolate syrup, whipped cream and topped with fresh strawberries…even if she was a moaner (my least fav…I may be cool with it but damned if I showed my kids respect by trying my damnedest to always use the ‘Mommy’ voice…why can’t they do the same for me?).

They have to keep up their energy somehow, right?
They have to keep up their energy somehow, right?

‘Baby’ Doms…

So today I got a message on ‘that’ site. From a Dom. A 19 year old one. I know some people think ‘what the fuck’. That 19 years old and Dom are yet another set of oxymorons. Now for over a year now I have pretty much ignored and/or deleted/blocked every single message or friends request from a Dom. Not interested. But this time, I actually returned his message…I thought I would share that with you…


I hope that you will take this message in the spirit in which it is intended. Good will and motherly advice…

I am not one of those purists who thinks that just because you are young you cannot be Dominant. Honestly, I believe those are roles which are hard wired into our personalities as much as extrovert/introvert. What is more, I have known doms my age who do not know jack-shit about being one or even a man. And I have known several ‘baby’ Doms as I call them who understand what it means to be a respectful, loving, responsible partner, lover and Dominant. I hope that you will one day be one of those and in that vain, I wish to offer some of my experience…wisdom…

First of all, complete your profile before you try approaching women. The smart ones will always look past your cute face and be more interested in who you are…your mind, your interests, your kinks. So instead of sending out dozens (???) of two word messages, spend some real time exploring who you are…and put that on paper.

Second, write…any woman worth having for more than a night is more interested in your thoughts than the cock pic on your profile…please tell me you don’t have one of those. Look at K&P, the Doms with all the women are the ones that write about their ideas.

Third, when you are ready to send messages to women…1) choose your type and do so for a specific reason. 2) Then rather than two words, take the time to tell her why you wrote to her. That is what impresses us. Did you read my profile? What about it did you like? That sort of thing.

And please…please do not be one of those stupid little boys that thinks that all older or curvy women are just going to be so fucking grateful for a cute, young stud. We are not. We have earned our wings. We have fought through shit loads of assholes who think that to get to the point that we know who the fuck we are and why the fuck we deserve better.

If you want to be with someone who truly can help you grow into a man and Dominant worth a damn, then you too need to up your game…cause a cute face and a thick cock don’t impress real women much. We want MEN who know that they are the lucky bastards to have someone of such strength, intelligence, compassion and passion at their side, in their bed, or on their arm. And especially kneeling before them.

There is a meme I love so much that says it best…

Sometimes it is better to have a table for one than to be dining with the 'wrong' person
Sometimes it is better to have a table for one than to be dining with the ‘wrong’ person

I hope at least some of what I say here makes some sense. I hope you choose to grow into one of those amazing ‘baby’ Doms (and none of the men to whom I have gifted that title are the least offended as they know I mean it with the utmost respect…I have known men twice their age that were half the men and Doms they were).

Good luck and Goddess bless,
Tara

On being a hero(ine)…

I write a lot about heroes…SEALs, Marines, doctors and every day people, who just stand up for what they believe. Lately I may have taken it a bit far when I dressed as Wonder Woman for Comic Con. Truth is that heroes and heroines are the strangest things…we only remember their victories. We always like to forget all the times they got their asses kicked to get there.

Of course, the cheesiest example of this is the ‘original’ BatMan series from the 60s and 70s. It was always at least two parts to every story line. At the end of part one, Batman or Robin and usually both were tied up, suspended, about to be destroyed/chopped up/incinerated or something of the kind. Then the beginning of the next episode, they always managed to escape…somehow. It was one of those cases of something being so bad that it is good.

My favorite of all time though is John McClane, especially number four…Live Free or Die Hard. In that movie, McClane teams up with a young hacker to fight a ‘cyber’ bad guy. Matt, the hacker, asks him at one point why he does it…goes after the bad guy.

John McClane: You know what you get for being a hero? Nothin’. You get shot at. You get a little pat on the back, blah, blah, blah, attaboy. You get divorced. Your wife can’t remember your last name. Your kids don’t want to talk to you. You get to eat a lot of meals by yourself. Trust me, kid, nobody wants to be that guy.

Matt Farrell: Then why you doing this?

John McClane: Because there’s no body else to do it right now, that’s why. Believe me, if there were somebody else to do it, I’d let them do it, but there’s not. So we’re doing it.

Matt Farrell: Ah. That’s what makes you that guy.

Die HardLater in the movie after the bad guy tries (AGAIN) to blow them up Matt says…”Win? When did we start winning?”

The point is (the one I am trying desperately to remind myself of at this moment)…heroes are nothing more than the stubborn fuckers who refuse to give up even when they are getting their asses kicked. Spoiler Alert: And sometimes the ONLY way to win is to put a bullet right through your own shoulder…into the heart of the villain.