Happy Halloween…

From me…

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As Morticia Addams…oddly enough I took one of those silly FaceBook quizzws…what TV mother are you? I was Morticia. Must have something to do with celebrating my children’s uniqueness…and wanting them happy more than successful.

Hope you got loads of Treats…and maybe one small trick…or two if it was good.

Freaky Friday…

Location…location…LOCATION! 

That is not just good advice when selling real estate. It don’t work too bad when you are trying to shake things up sexually either. Hell, it is one factor that can spice up even vanilla sex.

Yeah, sure I get that beds are comfortable…an easy place to do the deed…get nasty…then so easy to just roll over and go to sleep cuddled or spooned up together. But come on, folks, that shit can get boring. Sometimes the easiest way to shake things up is simply to change your location.

You can keep things simple if you are risk averse. There are other places inside the house that you can try…the living room sofa (yes, that stuff washes out…easier than red wine so don’t go giving me that excuse because I bet you drink wine on it?)…kitchen counter tops…or the shower…Those are the easy ones…

Here are some other slightly kinkier ideas for role play…

MonicaDo a Monica… If your partner has an office, especially a home one, dress up…conservative like except no panties. Carry a stack of bills or those horrid mailers in. Bat your eyelashes and say…Is there anything else Mister President? If that don’t work then drop them, bend over to pick them up and make certain he sees that you ain’t gots no panties. Go with it from there…bonus points for blue dresses and cigars… But please ladies…remember good girls clean up their messes. I always did wonder why there were stains on that dress to begin with?

50s housewife to the extreme… Send the kids to friends for this one. Then find that old set of pearls or go get a fake set at the 99 cent store, an apron, high heels, stockings and a smile. Meet him at the door with a beer, scotch on the rocks or his fav drink. Kiss his check and whisper, ‘How was your day, dear?’ Of course, a relaxing bath, dinner and a massage only make this fantasy better.

Check under my hood… Seriously, if the man is working in his man cave/garage, all the time…show up unexpected (do I need to remind you to forget the panties?)…ask him what is wrong…wink and whisper ‘How much is that gonna cost me? Do you take it out in trade?’ Okay so motor oil don’t come out as easy as biological stains so don’t wear a good suit/dress, but I am sure you have something in the closet that you were going to give to charity anyway?

Cheer this, buddy… Yes, it is football season and let me be clear…this one is ONLY for half time, girls. Do not make your man choose between the big game and you. But having said that…buy a set of pom-pom from the 99 cent store or make them yourself of old newspaper, find your shortest skirt (shame on you if you ain’t got one…back to that charity bag and cut one off then), a tight/too small sweater and this time instead of just forgetting the panties…the bra too. Now go cheer his team on. With your lips!

So here is the challenge for this weekend, folks…try one of these. If you are too shy to comment then send me an email at taraneale@virginmedia.com. Better yet…share YOUR ideas…we can’t wait to hear them, ya’ll.

Thoughtful Thursday…

Today I am going to do something I HATE doing…self-promotion. It is though a Thoughtful series…at the best possible price…FREE (well, Book 1 is anyway) for the next 3 days.

I do this because I realize that some of you may not be aware of my fiction writing that is my deepest calling. And even some of you, who followed me through that venue, may have forgotten the series that is my labor of love…Sergeant Mike’s Miracle Tour. This series deals with the complex issues of PTSD facing many of our returning Veterans. In particular…

Master Sergeant Michael O’Malley is a man on a mission. After over twenty years in the US Marine Corps and more tours of duty than he wants to remember, his retirement plans are simple: hop on the back of his brand new Harley and tour the country, checking in on the men and women that he served with…and the families of the ones that never made it back.

I have now released three books in this series…

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My Country Tis of Thee – FREE now on Amazon – is the first novella in the Sergeant Mike series. It is the story of a young Latino, who gave his life for a country that was not even his own. As with all of the stories in this series, it will touch upon the complex issues of how our country treats tens of thousands of soldiers and their families who defend their adopted country so valiantly. It also includes a motley band of Vietnam and Korean veterans, who honor their comrades and country by attending all the military funerals in the area.

Labor’s End ($0.99) – Honour, Oklahoma is Mike’s second stop on this tour of duty as he stands in for the best friend that he lost over twenty years ago. The man’s father is dying and though he remembers neither Mike nor his dead son, he feels duty bound to be there for the man since the son that died in Mike’s arms could not be.

Shared Burdens (NEW release) – is the one that everybody has been waiting for: Mike finally meets the woman he secretly fell for from thousands of miles away. Is love or heartache in the cards when Sergeant Mike finally meets his dream woman?

Esther Samuels is a woman in pain. Her only son was killed while serving in Afghanistan. Now this old-maid school teacher is stuck in her job, while battling small town prejudice and her grief. She is more dead than alive until…

The third stop on his new tour of duty is the small Texas town that was home to one of his best friends. The young Lieutenant, Thomas Samuels had been one of the finest men it had been his pleasure to serve with. Until an IED ended that promise.

Now Sergeant Mike is here to check in on Tommy’s mom…and offer an extra pair of hands and a strong back for her annual Halloween party that is a mainstay of Sebida, Texas. Problem is the only thing smaller than this town are the minds in it.

Can Mike just ride off to leave the woman he has secretly loved for years, to face their wrath? Can Esther let the only man who has ever brought her to life just ride away?

This is series is not your typical over the top Tara steamy sex…it is pain, tears, a bit of laughter…and ultimately salvation through love. If that appeals to you, please take the opportunity to download the FREE Book 1 now. I think you will most definitely find it THOUGHTFUL.

REAL Woman Wednesday

The other week I shared with you Maggie, a reader and hot Latina. So today I want to highlight Nubian beauty…this is the mother of PanKwake’s best friend.

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Unfortunately, Anne Marie is not comfortable sharing her face which is just as stunning as the rest of her on the internet. And I dare not show you the rest of this pic…all I will say is…nice ta-tas. I got reported to the Facebook morality poliz for Symon’s bum…the artistic shadows in the window one too. No worries they agreed that it met their guidelines but ‘suggested’ I tone it down anyway.

Ya’ll know me…I’s gots a big mouth (good for other things too). So when PanKwake began friends with her daughter over ice skating…it took me all of 5…or maybe 10 minutes to announce I write erotica. And we became friends from there. Of course, wouldn’t you know our mixed race little girls look more like sisters than friends.

Anne Marie is spectacular REAL woman beauty…in her thirties with three kids…you go girl. She also is an avid reader of erotica…her favorite? Cowboys! That’s right ya’ll nothing gets this Caribbean queen (from Jamaica originally) hotter than tight jeans and Southern drawl. So if there are any cowboys out there…especially if you know your way around rope.

Tease Tuesday…

Shared Burdens – Book 3 of the Sergeant Mike’s Miracle Tour is pending at Amazon now. So I thought I would share some of that with you today.


Shared BurdensHighway to Heaven meets the U S Marine Corps – Is love or heartache in the cards when Sergeant Mike finally meets his dream woman?

Esther Samuels is a woman in pain. Her only son was killed while serving in Afghanistan. Now this old-maid school teacher is stuck in her job, while battling small town prejudice and her grief. She is more dead than alive until…

Master Sergeant Michael O’Malley is a man on a mission. After over twenty years in the US Marine Corp and more tours of duty than he wants to remember, his retirement plans are simple: hop on the back of his brand new Harley and tour the country, checking in on the men and women that he served with…and the families of the ones that never made it back.

The third stop on his new tour of duty is the small Texas town that was home to one of his best friends. The young Lieutenant, Thomas Samuels had been one of the finest men it had been his pleasure to serve with. Until an IED ended that promise.

Now Sergeant Mike is here to check in on Tommy’s mom…and offer an extra pair of hands and a strong back for her annual Halloween party that is a mainstay of Sebida, Texas. Problem is the only thing smaller than this town are the minds in it.

Can Mike just ride off to leave the woman he has secretly loved for years, to face their wrath? Can Esther let the only man who has ever brought her to life just ride away?


“Fuck! Shit for brains,” Mike cursed as he leaned his forehead against the cool tiles and felt the warm water cascade down his neck and shoulders. What had he been thinking? That was just it…he had not been thinking. He had only been feeling. The way she fit so fucking perfectly beneath his arm had gone to his head. But still…

Wash his back indeed! How stupid was that? It sounded like something a horny teenager might say.

He chuckled and shook his head as he looked down at the little traitor which was hard as a rock from just innocently holding the woman. What would she think if she knew? She’d probably kick his sorry ass out…and rightly so.

Damn it, what was he going to do? Besides the obvious, but even that held little appeal. He had spent two fucking years masturbating to fantasies of this woman. Being this close to her, actually holding her in his arms as he had dreamt of too fucking often was driving him insane.

No, taking matters or in this case his hard cock into his own hands would do no real good. Like that randy teenager, the moment he saw her again, heard that soft lilting Southern twang or heavens forbid touched her even softer skin, he would be lost. And this fucking traitor would be instantly hard again.

Besides she was making dinner. He did not have time. He shook his head, as hyped up as he was by how fucking right it had felt with his arm wrapped around her shoulder and her head resting on his shoulder, time was not the issue. Two fucking strokes and he would be a goner. Okay, maybe more than two, but not much.

“Damn it, Devil Dog! What the fuck you gonna do about this?”

But once more the answer was the same. Always the same. Not a damned thing. There was not a damned thing he could do. He sure as hell was not going to make a pass at the woman, come on to her, or whatever the fuck they were calling making a move in these modern times. No, the ending to this story was always the same…women like her were not for men like him. He turned off the shower and reached for the towel.

He sighed at the simple feel of the terry cloth on his skin, imagining it was her hands. They would be softer. Warmer. “Fuck, man. Stop it,” he cursed again as he reached for a clean pair of sweat pants and the t-shirt. He dressed as quickly as he could and straightened up the bathroom in a way he could never seem to tidy up his emotions when it came to her.

He tossed the towel and his clothes in the hamper as he stood in front of the mirror and examined his reflection. He reached for his tooth brush and tooth paste as he studied the network of tiny lines and wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. He knew he was not a bad looking man. Hell, the way that Kay had propositioned him confirmed that.

But women like this one deserved more than a passable face, decent body and a quick roll in the sheets. That was where he fell short. Way short. He had no future to give anyone, lest of all a woman like Esther. And goodness only knew, his past did not bear thinking about. He finished brushing his teeth.

He could not come up with another excuse to delay the inevitable. Honestly, he did not want to. As much as it hurt sometimes, to be this close to her and know that he could never have her, it was worth it. His mind stored up each moment, every rare smile, even the tears. The smell of her. The softness of her skin. He would remember them all. They would be what carried him through whatever was to come, he thought as he walked down the hall and through the living room.

His breath caught once more as he stood in the doorway between the living room and kitchen. The sight of her putting finishing touches on the meal did things to him that he did not want to think about. Made him wish for things that he knew were not for him.

REAL Man Monday…

Okay…so far I have given you my editor and my cover artist. Today, it is another of the men in my life…my best friend and the consultant on my Ægir’s trilogies. The man who gave me such amazing sayings as…

IMG_2042Toffelhjälten – slipper heroes

Din satans hæstkuk – devilish horse cock

And my personal favorite…

Du kainn sjite i deinn eine nævven og ønske i deinn aindre, og så kainn du se kaslags nævve du får mæst I – You can shit in one hand and wish in the other and see which you get most in.

Oh and we can’t forget Lutefisk that stinky fish jelly which is the traditional main course at Christmas.

Like many of you, I met Him online when He liked one of my writings at THAT site…a non-fiction piece on the orgasm control and conditioning that Bjørn uses with Kirsty. We started messaging and when He discovered that I write fiction too…especially the Ægir’s, He volunteered to do a bit of translating and add local flavor. Oh, and ironically…His name is Bjørn too…we always laugh about that one. Of course, He also convinced me to reset the stories to the majestic northern Norway locale of the Lofoten islands.

Sven 3But the funniest part is the night we stayed up for hours searching stock photos for the right Sven. You try finding a sexy, broody, shirtless man over 40 sometime. Another reason for REAL Man Monday. He finally came up with this one…which was the best of a poor lot.

Then months later when He finally shared His photograph with me, I wanted to scream. After all those hours…and my headache…He was holding out on me. His name maybe Bjørn but He fits my description of Sven right down to…

His eyes were the most intense blue as he studied her face for a long moment as if considering what to say then. For a split second she would have almost sworn she saw a glimpse of true tenderness in them, rather than the icy cold of the sea that they mimicked.

Don’t believe me…look again…

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And to be completely fair…a shirtless pic for comparison with that half shirted model…

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So, folks, you pick the Sven for my cover…that male model from stock photos or the REAL Bjørn?

Serious Sunday…

My editor just sent me back Shared Burdens – Book 3 in Sergeant Mike’s Miracle Tour series. The one where Mike finally meets Esther. The mother of his young commanding officer that died in his arms…and the woman he has secretly been in love with for years. So while this book is one of hope and love like all Tara Neale stories it is also about this shitty thing called REAL life. In this case, not just Mike’s PTSD, but a grieving mother as well.

I have to admit it is a pain I have only sampled with my miscarriage. But how much worse to loose a child (they will always be your children no matter how old they get) that you had actually held, kissed away boo-boos, done homework with, laughed, cried and loved for years. As the mother of two children with epilepsy, another two with severe depression and one who serves his country with honor…it is my deepest fear. I do not even allow my mind to go there. But to write this story I had to.

I have told you before about growing up, being raised by my great-grandmother and her friends in the mill village. I have even mentioned Aunt Mildred and Uncle Frank. What I have not told you before was about their son, for whom I am named. He was nineteen when he went out drinking one Friday night with some of his friends…hey, this was the South and that’s what you did. They had a car accident. Terry died a couple of days later of his brain injuries.

Now growing up in this neighborhood with mostly elderly, I was no stranger to death. I don’t think more than a few months ever went by without us going to the mortuary for the receiving of friends. Oh, the casseroles we made. We even lived in a time when the neighbors would take up money and send flowers. I went first with my Aunt Tina who was six years older than I was. Then when she married and moved out, it became my task every time someone died to go around knock on doors and collecting quarters, fifty cents and the occasional dollar.

But this was different. This was not an elderly man or woman, many of whom had been sick for some time and death was a blessing of sorts. This was a young man, who kissed his mother on the cheek and went laughing out the door. Now he was never coming back.

LifeI remember sitting there as Aunt Mildred rocked back and forth. She was a petite woman, a natural size zero, but she had never looked smaller or more fragile. She looked up and of all the people in that room and there were dozens, her eyes lit on mine and she broke down, “What are we going to do without him, Terri Lynn?” (Shh…no one tell my secret there.) Then someone pushed me off their lap and into Aunt Mildred’s arms and she held the six year old me, rocking and crying.

Now after my miscarriage I was given grief counselling and while it was no where near enough it helped some. Got me through the worst of it. Of course, back then, there was no such thing. But community had its own way of taking care of its own. For us that was me. After that I was allowed to walk around the block to Aunt Mildred’s on my own…every day. We would watch soap operas, the Watergate trials and our Veterans coming home from Vietnam. I would sit at her feet on the old back porch that Uncle Frank had turned into a sewing room for her as she made dresses for people…always making one for my Barbies out of the scraps…we could see Terry’s old Pinto sitting untouched under the car port from there.

And sometimes if I was a very good girl she would let me tiptoe into Terry’s room and reach far back into the closet for his Lincoln logs. Of course, I had to be very careful not to move the shoes from where he left them or the three pennies on the night stand that he took out of his pocket before going out that night.

It was Aunt Mildred I thought of when writing about how Esther kept Tommy’s room just as he had left. Her I thought of when Esther was so reluctant to allow Mike to sleep in that hollowed shrine. Not to give too many spoilers but unlike Aunt Mildred, Esther finds her way back from that dark valley of the shadow of death.

But not all parents who lose children do…this story is dedicated not just to the men and women, who serve their countries…but to the Moms and Dads, who make the ultimate sacrifice. Goddess bless and heal you all.