Sunday, December 09, 2007

Tumbling down the rabbit hole or beware of plot bunnies

Editing is a fact of an author's life, but usually we leave that horrible task to the experts. And let's face it someone who doesn't give a damn how much this and that adverb is loved. How much time was spent on that special phrase. The editor is THE EXECUTIONER! Their job is to go through and kill the stuff that doesn't work. Like downsizing a company, or making a chubby kid go on a diet when their fave food groups are FATS AND CARBS. Come on, it's their job. They're specially trained not to notice the screams of all those words going to their doom. *sniffles*

However, there are times when we must face facts, pull up our bootstraps and do the dreaded self edit. *insert screams of horror here* When something isn't working, when it's just not right. The story is too long or the pacing is off. I'm not expert by any means, but I've read enough books to know that if it takes too long for stuff to happen that I'll put it down. If I the A.D.D. Queen will do that, so will the average reader, and that's who I write for.

I'll say this, thank God--or at least Microsoft for the word processing program. Without it, this process would take much longer than it did for authors of the past. My respect for authors of the past is great, some wrote longhand, others took the typewriter route. While I've written down passages to put on the computer for later, but I'm not sure if I could write an entire book by hand. And from my high school days, I know very well that typewriters and myself don't get along at all.

So, back to the the drawing board yet again, or rather back to the cut and paste. But, it's all clicking together nicely now, finally after a breather and a bout of introspection that I had to do when life threw me one of it's little curve balls. However, with a little therapy from my cybersisters I'm getting into the swing of things again. Maybe I just needed a rest and refill. Let's hope so.

May All Your Holidays Be Bright!

Love Jenna

Saturday, December 08, 2007

For all you Tiger Fans

Since my brother-in-law is stuck off in Ohio and has no friends and family to share his Tiger-Fandom with, I thought I'd share this pic so he wouldn't feel quite so lonely. That and it's just so darn cute.

What's Paco saying? Well, of course it's..

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Dog Day Some Day

But not today.

Happy Thanksgiving from me and my family (Paco the Wonderdawg too!) to yours.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

What's in a name?

Would a rose by any other name smell as sweet? Not sure, but I hope they had lots of roses and other flowering bushes around during Love in the Time of Cholera. Every time I hear about or see the title, I snicker and/or despite the fact that it's being touted as this HUGE sweeping romantic saga and one of the greatest love stories ever. Why? Well, due to my work in the medical field, I can't thinking about the definition of cholera.

Cholera: is an acute, diarrheal illness caused by infection of the intestine with the bacterium Vibrio cholerae.

Oh yeah uh huh, diarrhea is just so damn.. sexy.

I realize this is the title of the book and therefore must be the title of the movie because .. it's an Oprah Book Club book. That's right, we can all blame the talk show queen for a medical word for shit being in a movie title. I can hear people thinking now, "Love and shit.. does that mean the relationship is in the toilet.. what?"

However, people are going to see this awkwardly named movie because by golly, if she recommends something they all have to flock to it like mindless sheep to heading for slaughter, or perhaps lemmings jumping off the cliffs of despair to their dooms on the jagged rocks below.

I've looked at her clique-y little list, you know and there aren't any fun books. There's no Harry Potter or Cujo, or even any romances, unless the hero or heroine dies in the end. Oh yeah, I realize that the HEA ain't on her must-reads. Believe me babe, I know a passive pooh-pooh when I see one, I'm a southern woman after all, she don't like romance readers or writers for that matter. Alice Hoffman is the closest she's got, with Here on Earth. Please be advised, while good, your nose will become intimately acquainted with a box of Kleenex during this book.

Now, I'm not knocking the woman (much) I'm scared to, she's got connections, not to mention more money than God. Nor am I downing all those books those authors worked so hard on, most of which are about spiritual growth or overcoming huge obstacles but some of them are just.. fricking boring. Not to mention depressing as hell. A lot of the books on the OBC list should come with a Prozac taped to a book mark as a promo item.

Back to Love in the Time of Cholera.... when the J. Geils Band sang Love Stinks, I really don't think this is what they were talking about.

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

What happens in DunVegas is happening now and it's free!!

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at PhotobucketWelcome to Dunvegas 2007, the brainchild of the paranormal authors of the Beyond the Veil blog. Offered as a free Samhain gift to our readers, we hope this anthology will be the first of many return visits to Dunvegas, an out-of-the-ordinary Las Vegas casino/resort modeled after an ancient Scottish castle.

Dunvegas is unlike any other casino on The Strip. It caters to a decidedly preternatural crowd and plays host to the annual ParaPleasures Expo, the largest trade show on Earth dedicated solely to the pampering and pleasuring of vampires, weres, dragons, Fae, mages, wizards, and everything in between.

So pack light (Dunvegas has everything you could ever need) and confirm your reservation. The concierge desk is just beyond the fangs and hellhounds that guard the portcullis. Just keep your arms and legs inside as you cross the moat—the mermaids and the Kracken aren’t just for show. They’re real.

And it’s feeding time.

Enjoy your stay!

To get a free download of this wonderful story head on over to Beyond the Veil

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

A wyvern, a succubus and a witch walk into a bar

It could happen in Vegas.. or in one of my books.
Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Lacey at Romance Junkies had this to say about
The Last Legacy.

THE LAST LEGACY is a wonderful fantasy tale. This is my second review for Ms. Leigh and I must say her stories only get better. Ms. Leigh combines romance, adventure and humor beautifully in every story she creates, and always keeps the reader guessing what will happen next. Lilly is an intelligent character who didn’t necessarily ask for the life she’d been dealt, but she makes the best of it. I enjoyed the character Faelen as well, and his fervid attempts to get Lilly to notice him. I recommend THE LAST LEGACY to readers looking for a great fantasy.

To read the rest

Also, in other news. Tomorrow is the first installment of I Dream of Desi, which is my part of What Happens in DunVegas on
Beyond The Veil

And also tomrrow night please,join me and JMorgan at
Coffee Time's Exotic Loop for The Witching Hour where we'll share some ghost stories and talk a bit about our books at 6:30 Central.

I think that's all. For now anyway.



Friday, October 12, 2007

October News-Happy Halloween!

Saturday, October 13th, JMorgan, Helen Ravell and I, among others, are going to be chatting at Love Romances Cafe.

On Sunday October 21st I'll be loopy yet again, this time joining the other Champagne Books authors at Fallen Angels.

Wednesday October 24th, JMorgan and I'll be together once more.. I swear we're together on loops more than we are in reality. *snickers* This time it's on Coffee Time Romance's loop where we'll do our scary swamp Witching Hour.

On Halloween, something truly spooky will happen. Through the magic--and some would say evil--of the internet, I shall be two places at once.

A Very Spooky Chat with the rest of Champagne's authors in Fallen Angel Review's Chatroom


Samhain Publishing is taking over the Coffee Time Loops for a Halloween Bash!

As you can see, I'll be haunting the loops this month, so if you see me, drop me a line. And don't forget to enter my contest. The details can be found at Coffee Time Romance and on my website.

I vant to drink your chocy!!

Jenna Leigh

Thursday, October 04, 2007

Panthers and Cougars and now Bears? Oh My! Wait.. Oh, Crap!

I may have mentioned that I've got a Sucky Day Job. Let me say that I love the people I work with. When you spend 8 hours a day with folks for years on end and they become your family. My boss is the big brother whose more heinous than me. Scary thought, no? Well, maybe not that mean.. okay, yeah he is. This is the man who calls me Luci, stating it's short for Lucifer. *pfth* Evil gets the job done. More on him in a bit.

Anyway, my hubby comes into my day job often because he and my coworker share books. She's the sweet one. You know the one in every bunch whose always positive, upbeat and nice, until that scary frickin moment that she's not. Then, Omigawd, take cover because like the song goes, Betty's Bein' Bad, and she's probably got a shotgun aimed at your ass. Her name ain't Betty, but I'm not goin to say it. Take not the scary sweet woman's name in vain is my motto, because she could be sneakin up on you unawares.

Well, I thought hubby was visiting Sweetie and discussing just what books to by and not to buy because she's a bad 'rebuyer'. If they change the cover, she'll grab it up, thinking she's got the newest book by one of her fave authors. I firmly believe publishers should put the word REPRINT in big letters on the cover for women such as her. Not that she'd believe it, because even when I tell her this and that she's read it she doesn't believe me. She makes me bring the book to work. Only after reading three or four chapters does she bring it to me with a look of disgust on her face so I can take it home and sneak it back on hubby's no touchit shelf. The lengths I go for this woman. Gaah!

However, hubby wasn't in with Sweetie, nooo, it was much worse, he was in with my boss aka THE CORRUPTER. The Corrupter gives him subversive testosterone laden ideas like; thinking for himself, doing what he wants, buying movies with lotsa bewbies in, going fishin', buying a truck with 4-wheel drive, etc. He'd never come up with these on his own, being more like Sweetie than The Corrupter, so I'd rather he didn't visit with him, as I always hear giggling coming from that office. Yet when I go in, it suddenly stops and they look guilty. Boys are such doofuses.

This time though, The Corrupter was showing him a PSA in the form of the picture shown. I thought this was from someone's deer feeder from Arkansas or Mississippi, so imagine my surprise when Corrupter claimed it was from his own deer feeder. I still wasn't too worried because he's got a camp at the Hooker Hole *pauses* Hush, that's the name of the place. No, I'm not makin it up, I'm from there. No, I'm not from the Hooker Hole! I'm from the general area..oh never mind! Anyway, this picture was taken about ten miles from my house! This is a black bear! While the Corrupter may be Grizzly Adams *snickers* I'm so not.

Intellectually I know we've got panthers and cougars in our area, but they don't let you see them because cats are smart enough to know that out of sight means out of mind. But Bears? Bears? All those dumbass rednecks were supposed to have hunted them to extinction years ago. Can't I depend on them for anything? Jeez Louisiana! I watched enough Discovery Channel to know they're gonna be in my trashcans soon, and once that happens it's onto my porch. Just, eeek! Hubby's response? He smiled and said, "See! I told you we needed to buy a bigger gun!" Dammit, I knew the Corrupter was up to something!

Sunday, September 30, 2007

Six Degrees of Southern Separation

Connectivity isn't just about the internet, believe it or not. You can get it anywhere, especially in the South. Of course in my hometown you can't drive down the road without practically running over one of my kinfolks, but that's not really fair, as you're in my hometown. My mother is one of 4, her mother is one of 12, my father is one of 8, his mother was one of 6 and his father was one of 7, at least, I think he was. You don't know? I can feel your disbelief, well, dammit, I have a lot of kinfolk, it gets confusing after about 200 or more. So, yeah I think so, but don't quote me on it. Let's just say that when there's a funeral on either side of my family, it can turn into standing room only event.

I mentioned an old and dear friend passing away and going to the viewing. Now for those that don't know; a viewing is a Southernism. It's sort of like a Wake. However, since most of the folks down here in this part of the South are Baptists or Protestant, there's no drinking. Depending on the family and/or the deceased's wishes the casket may or may not be opened there might not be any viewing done either. What you are essientially there for is to visit the deceased's kin.

That's what The Poor Sainted Hubby and I did and the capital letters are needed in this case, because the Poor Sainted Hubby deserves mondo brownie points.

First he drove to West Funroe, which he hates to do and did it at night BP#1. Secondly he was taking me to my ex-bf's funeral where he didn't know anyone BP#2. It doesn't matter that we'd not been involved for over 20 years, some men would have still balked at it, but he didn't. We get there and I immediately am engulfed in the past relativity of yakkity yak and he melts into the background so easily that I actually forgot he was there BP#3. I was good friends with his sisters, Tish and Sussan and, and Tish's husband Joey too you see as well as Susan's ex husband Scotty as well as their parents. In fact for a time in high school we were almost inseparable. Yes, we were evil children, but we never got caught. Almost never.

We're all talking (endlessly) and it was wonderful to see my old friends despite the tragic circumstances. It was also awful to judge how old we're all getting by the fact that our children are all grown up, but that's life, it passes and the alternative to growing older is worse and also final. Remembering our friend was what we did, by sharing our memories, which is what a viewing is for.

However, towards the end of the night Joey (a yakker to rival even me and dayam, that's saying something!) made a remark about coveting my cousin's car and my husband smugly replied that his cousin's gold Trans-am was much more heinously righteous. I laughingly pushed back his bangs and said that Jackie had put the lightening bolt shaped scar on Saint Hubby's head making him into the grown up version of Harry Potter (who he looks somewhat like). Once the name was said the Six Degrees of Southern Separation Game began.

Joey laughed and shook his head, "My sister was married to him."
St Hubby frowned and said the most important thing. "She's crazy! She made him get rid of that car!"
Joey throws up his hands, "I know, what can you do? Relatives."
St Hubby, who has been known to hold a grudge for quite a while. "Eh, he took my toys when I was two. He deserved it."

Thus, peace and redneck harmony was restored as they talked about Cameros, Mustangs and T-tops until Tina Turner arrived. Oh don't get excited.. it's the redneck version. Lemme tell you if Ike ever put his hand on this one, he'd have drawn back a nub the first time. I can't tell any secrets about her though, cuz she knows my nickname.

Off to Make Some Brownies


Saturday, September 22, 2007

Path Not Taken, Road Not Traveled, Heart Still Broken

Different decisions sent me down different paths than my friends and lovers. Some of them were right, some wrong, and some weren't even my decisions at all. It's only when I look back and can see the way the paths overlap, looping back and forth, connecting and weaving that I understand how Fate has a hand in things, and that I have no control over it. It still hurts like hell.

The past has a way of coming back to haunt me when I least expect it. A breath-stealing slap in the in the face to show me things thought I'd put away. I only thought I'd forgot but no, it's been waiting for just this perfect moment to come roaring back with the vengence of a lover scorned.

Events, people, places, things once beloved, were shoved into the back of my mind busy with the present, a heart full to the brim with the new. Mental keepsakes were safely pressed and folded and filed, but they lingered, like a cancer I thought were in remission. In reality, it was just waiting, for that one word, or name, or thought, or smell, or dear God, a song and just exploded into life. These cells, these visions regenerated with vivid clarity and I was simply....there again, like I'd never left at all.

The past is a scary thing, because I can't change it. Instead, it just lingers in the darkness like a chain tightening around the heart showing what could have been. However, when the past dies, ends, becomes a closed avenue, something strange happens. I freeze and wonder in that selfish, center of the universe way humans have, could I have done something to change it? Here is where the F-word comes in again, Fate. If I could go back, knowing what I know now, would I change any of my decisions, sure, should I? No, but I do know that a dear friend is gone, and this world a much dimmer place without him in it. I'll miss you, Perry.

Love always,


Tuesday, September 11, 2007


It's hard to believe it's been six years since the skyline of NYC was changed forever. I just remember thinking how awful it was that a plane accidently hit the tower. Talk about innocence lost, huh? When the Pentagon was targeted too, it was still awful, but by then, I was ready for it and knew what was going on, so I was more mad than anything.
Many died, others were heroes. All should be remembered today as well as the soldiers that are still fighting. Whether you think the war's justified, a senseless bid for vengeance, a waste of taxpayer's money or a combination of all three, I still say we have to remember the tragedy that happened today. Then, there's the old saying about learning our history, let's do that, because this is something I don't ever want to see happen again.

Through it all though, I'm still proud to be an American.
Jenna Leigh

Saturday, September 08, 2007

Faith, Saints and Cable TV

My husband is in a bit of a slump. Oh, no not writing wise. That part is fine and dandy. I'm talking about nothing to watch on the bewwb tube. He loves the television but right now, if you haven't noticed, we've reached a point where Summer is over but, strangely enough, Fall hasn't begun just yet. How could the networks let this season gap happen to the innocent TV sluts like my hubby? He's bereft, bewildered, bothered, and bummed and about his lack of viewing prospects. I'm just pissed that we have all these channels and there still ain't shit to watch. Why the heck are we paying for cable anyway?

I can remember having four channels when I was a kid. NBC, ABC, CBS, and Public Broadcasting. You're either nodding with me, or you're too damn young to remember what a big deal it was to get Fox. I'm more than likely old enough to have changed your diapers.

Do you know who White Snake, Def Leppard, Twisted Sister or Duran Duran are? Was their music ever played on the channel known as MTV? If your answer to either of my questions are no, then git, you little teensy babies you. Go and watch your big brothers and sisters on the Rugrats.

Back to the season gap rant, which ties in with the foosball is of the devil rant I have every year at this time. *sighs*

So, last night with the hubby was bad. The Saints played football, he was all excited and ready to watch it and then, crap if Faith Hill didn't come out and start singin' the national anthem. He despises her since the unfortunate *giggles and tosses back long blonde hair* Oh, but I thank I sang Piece of My Heart better than Janis Joplin *flutters lashes and flashes perfect teeth* incident which happened well over ten years ago.

However, this slight against his precious Janis has festered in his soul like a blight on a pristine rose growing black and bitter with rage and hate. It hasn't gotten better with time, like any of those trite little songs and poems say it will because upon seeing Faith or hearing her voice, astonishingly nasty words burst forth from this usually sweet and calm person's mouth. He has even been known to yell out the c word about her. He usually saves this word for persons that pull out in front of him or slam on their brakes, thus endangering the lives of him and his loved ones. So, don't do that, or say you sing better than Janis, and you won't be thought of as a c*nt in his book.

Side note: Yall, I've yelled his name to come help me wash dishes when he was in the next room and he didn't hear me. Ha! However, I muttered that I may perhaps think that Faith did sing PoMH slightly more in tune than Janis. I repeat that I muttered it under my breath while walking away from a man whose spent half his life listening to frickin Prince and hell yes, Janis at a decibel level detectable on Mars. This man not only heard me say this, but called ME a c*nt. *growls* Oh, yes he did. He said it once, but I said it fifty two times in thirty minutes until he pleaded with me to stop. So, I won, by reclaiming this word since I happen to be the owner of one, thank you very much. He didn't get any of it for quite a while, mind you.

Back to the football game...

By the way he thinks she jinxed the Saints. *snorts* Oh as if! They don't need any help with that, they suck well enough on their own. But I digress, I happen to like Mrs. McGraw, which means hubby and I have The Faith Wars all the time, and as Teen Mean's on my side, he don't stand a chance.

Jenna Leigh
Waiting on the Fall Season
Until then, I'll just aggravate the hell outta JMorgan *evil smiles*

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Paco? ..Hell

I'd promised myself and more importantly the EFO, no more animals in the house, especially not a D- O-G. So, imagine my surprise and his dismay when hubby and I heard a strange high pitched noise on Sunday night. At first, I shushed him because, frankly, I didn't figure anything was more important that Harry Connick Jr romancing Sandra Goofball on Hope Floats. Seriously, how insane was she? He's hot! I'd have dropped my womanizing hubby in a heartbeat and rode that cowboy right down the middle of mainstreet. But that's just me. Where was I? Oh yeah, a strange noise on the porch. Finally, I looked out on my porch and lo and behold, something almost as cute as the Connick walked right in my front door.

I could have put him right out again, like the EFO was meowing for me to do, but in my defence, it was almost dark and we've got coyotes, panthers and bears.. OH MY! Plus, look at that face, he's so sweet. He likes me bestest, I know this. *coughs* Although,I keep telling myself that I'm only 'holding' him until someone claims him, over daughter's dead hmm--well, over someone's dead body--I know and you know ain't nobody coming back for this dog so I'm stuck.

So, his name is Paco, and we did this so Teen Mean wouldn't saddle him with something like Tinkerbell, Honey, Baby or Sassy. He's tiny, so he needed a macho name to make up for his lack of size. I know she would have because the minute she got home from work, she squealed and picked him up in her arms and told me with a smirk that she could be just like Paris Hilton now. My husband roared back that she could be Elle on Legally Blonde, but never, ever Paris. Ever. Teen Mean just shrugged and took Paco for his first of many car rides. He seemed to enjoy it if his butt wiggles were any indication. He sleeps with her too, which is good because the only time he got into our bed, he showed a strange inclination for snuggling under my husband's armpit that I'm sure would have freaked him out if he'd woken up. I've not told him about it .. yet. I'm going to save that for a fight, or a long car drive, whichever comes first.

Welcome to the Insane Asylum Paco. And kudos to EFO who has been nice, so far. Oh crap, he's coming after me, isn't he? Crap.

I being of unsound mind..
Jenna Leigh

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Still Goin Braless?

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket
Five Ribbons!
Comical at times and full of passion, BRALESS IN THE BUICK is a rare novel that kept me up all night reading because I absolutely couldn’t put it down. I thoroughly enjoyed Ms. Leigh’s writing style as she told the story of Allie and Jake with precise definition, giving her characters life on the pages. From the meddling neighbors, to the secrets Mr. FBI kept, the story is full of surprises with an ending guaranteed to make you smile. A highly recommended must read for any lover of romance!

Thanks so much to Lacey at Romance Junkies!!

This just in: the great and powerful E leader of Champagne Books has given me a greenlight on Dateless in the Dodge, the sequel for Braless. And I didn't have to work Monday. Man, my week's just getting better and better. *looks down at the picture of Hugh* Yeah, it's all good.


Saturday, September 01, 2007

Disturbing Revelations

Today, whilst lazing in my lady lounger, I flipped through the channels and came across an old movie that was favorite of my mothers. Please note, she'd watch any frickin movie with Guns of, or Buffalo or Shoot Em in the title. In fact, one of my names for her is Western Watchin Woman. I usually don't watch the damn things because I've seen them all, many many many times and frankly, I'm sick to death of them. Heck, I know them by heart, like Jaws which, I know isn't a western, but still..Da dun, da dun GAAH!

Anyhoo, WWW has scarred me for life, I mean, I love John Wayne as much as the next good ole American redneck, but you usually can't pay me to watch one of his movies unless it's McClintock, because Maureen O'Hara is so cool in it. I love the end when he tosses his hat up on the weather vane and she croons, "Never misses." What she really means is *coughs* good sex *coughs* He'd damn well better never miss, because you know and I know ain't no way she'd put up with his crap without some serious sock rockin' in the bargain. Hell, he's The Duke! I'm not talking about a Duke movie this time though, it was a fair chance it would be because the hubby is just as in luuurve with him and even more so with O'Hara. Dear God, she's got red hair, she's Irish and she's mean, he'd jump her geriatric ass right now, are yall kidding me? Hubby's a hoor.

I caught the title of the movie in question because I'd just added Kim Harrison et al's Holidays Are Hell antho to my wishlist on Amazon and hooted at her kewl bastardization of yet another Clint-flick. I love that! Dead Witch Walking, The Good the Bad and the Undead, Every Which Way but Dead, A Fistful of Charms, and For a Few Demons More are all plays on his movies. It took me a few titles to get that because I'm goofy. Plays on words are some of my favorite things. In the Holidays are Hell antho, she does it again with Two Ghosts for Sister Rachel, which brings me to my movie of the day, Two Mules for Sister Sara and my freak out for the week, or probably the rest of the year, depending on what the hell else the woman does. I just never know with her.

I love Clint, for real. He's a tough bad ass s.o.b. and he don't take no prisoners in his Dirty Harry movies. Many remember him mostly for these and the line "Do ya feel lucky punk, well do ya?" I do too, it's a cool line. But, my mother thought he was a hawt cowboy and she said so, repeatedly. At the time I thought boys had cooties and I thought ew. Wait, I still think boys have cooties, but that's beside the point. Some of her Clint's Most Hawt Genes must have transferred to me if only by osmosis because I saw a resemblence today albeit faint between her crush and my own. *gulp* I.. I.. I can't be crushin on my man because my mother liked someone over twenty years ago, can I? He doesn't really look like him, does he? But that's exactly what I thought when I saw Clint sans hat with his beard and that hat hair which.. is.. sort of sticking straight up in the damn air. Oh damn. Clint don't got cooties, he was sorta hot. I know some will say I'm crazy but they look enough alike to make me think, Aack! I've turned into my mama! Kitta laughed and so did Meme, they're so mean to me.

You be the judge. Heck, if I'm wrong, you have to admit a blog's always better..

with a picture of Hugh.

And hell, Clint ain't half bad either.

Not tha Mama yet cuz Charles Bronson.. um no.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Tomorrow is Friday. So to celebrate..

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket
Excerpt anyone?

“He’s been shot.” She fought the panic that threatened and slid to the floor, keeping her body well out of range of the windows. Tearing a long strip off her skirt, she frantically searched for Marcus’s wound in the dark confines of the car. Another shot rang out and glass sprayed in from the side window.
“Hold on.” The car swerved to one side as Mick fought to steer.
She tried to focus on Marcus lying so still but she couldn’t see a damn thing. The car swerved more sharply, throwing her across him. Her hand skidded across his shoulder and came away sticky with blood. Marcus groaned, but she was grateful she’d found the wound. She pressed the material against his shoulder but it soaked with blood too quickly for her peace of mind so she tore off more and applied that to the wound too.
“Hold on,” Mick said again. This time there was the scream of metal on metal and the car shuddered with the impact.
She looked out of the shattered window and a pair of glowing amber eyes stared right back at her. Someone in a large black SUV was trying to run them off the road. Without a thought, she hurled the water bottle at the moving car. She was shocked when it connected with the man’s forehead. She let out a triumphant whoop at the resultant thunk and muttered curse then took off her shoes and threw them too. One hit the doorframe and the other went through the other car’s window. She hoped she put someone’s eye out. Too bad she couldn’t get boomerang action with those babies.
Mick howled with laughter. He hit the accelerator and the limo leapt ahead of the large SUV.
“Here they come again,” she yelled.
This time they hit the limo dead-on. She clutched at Marcus when they began to slide down the steep incline. The car rolled over. It all seemed to happen in slow motion; Marcus’s weight pressed her against the ceiling then the floor. Metal shrieked and glass shattered. She didn’t have time to do anything but hold onto his body for dear life.
The car came to rest on its roof at the bottom of the ravine with Lainie trapped beneath Marcus’s unconscious form. Her head hurt but it was a miracle she was alive at all. She tried to get out from under him, but he had her pinned.
Lainie turned her head to one side to look out the one remaining window. The moon was almost full, she thought idly, and then wondered if she had a concussion because of what else she saw.
A shadow, large and looming, and coming closer.
A growl came from the other side of the car. She froze.
Maybe she was hallucinating. Yeah, she hoped so. Or dreaming. Or—
A large furred paw stepped into her line of sight.
“Holy shit!” she hissed and increased her struggles to get out from under Marcus.
Outside of the car, clearly visible on the stark red rocks were big furry creatures like the one in her nightmare. And, she recalled with sudden vivid clarity, like the one that took Jade. One of them was a wolf, but the rest were something in between. Werewolves had stepped out of the myths and legends to scare the hell out of her. They stood on two legs, and there was growling, lots of it. The car rocked back and forth and more of the furred feet appeared on the side closest to her and Marcus.
“Damn,” a deep, gravelly voice said from above her line of sight. “The gas tank’s busted.”
One of the werewolves leaned down to peer at her. His large furred head filled the window.
She blinked rapidly, thinking if she did it enough, he’d disappear.
“Hi there, sweetie, I think it’s time to blow this pop stand.” Despite the deepness of his voice, it held a southern drawl and sounded faintly familiar. She squeaked when a pair of black-furred hands tipped with some seriously gnarly claws reached into the window and grabbed her by the shoulders. He ignored her frantic protests, pulled her out and set her on her feet.
She stared up into his bright amber eyes and swallowed hard. Easily two feet taller than she and heavily muscled, he was one monstrous wolf dude. He snarled, showing off a set of long ivory fangs. Fangs? Shit fire and save the matches! This was worse than any horror movie she’d watched from between her fingers. He was broad and big, and if she wasn’t mistaken, leering at her. Ew!
“I’ll be damned.” He leaned down for a closer look, then a surreptitious sniff. “It’s Lainie!” This was met with a few chuckles from the other big wolf, men, er, things.
“This ain’t old home week, dude. Get Marcus out before the car blows up.” The big silver werewolf shoved them aside and Lainie took in the reverent way he lifted Marcus out of the wreckage. “When we find out who the fuck did this shit, they’re gonna pay.” Silver wolf snarled, showing some impressive fangs of his own. Nice dental plan.
“What are you?” She tried and failed to keep the quiver of fear out of her voice.
“Wolves, sweetie,” the black one answered, squeezing her arm gently. “Well, right now, Wolfkin, except for the throwback over there.” He indicated the lone “wolf” of the bunch. That was to say the one that looked like an actual wolf, if you discounted his size and the weirdly knowing yellow eyes that stared out of his silver-furred face.
She stood frozen with shock while they stripped Marcus out of the shirt and jacket she’d thought he’d looked so handsome in earlier. As the moon struck his bare flesh, she was horrified to see fur growing out of his smooth skin. He moaned and his mouth opened to reveal fangs growing longer before her very eyes. Marcus was one of them? A sense of betrayal made her blood boil, unfreezing her paralyzed muscles.
Mick came around the side of the car and Lainie waited for him to shoot these freaks of nature. Instead, he lowered his head in a sign of submission and whined. Low, menacing growls reverberated from deep within the silver one’s chest. Somebody was in trouble, and she had a niggling suspicion that it might be her.
With that thought screaming through her head, she did what any woman with more than two brain cells to rub together would do in her situation. She rammed her elbow into fur boy’s belly, lifted the hem of her tattered skirts and ran like hell. If she wasn’t so scared, she might have laughed at the comment she heard from the black Wolfkin.
“Dammit all to hell. Why do they always run?”
Was he serious? She didn’t stick around to find out, just poured on the speed, attempting to distance herself from the nightmare her life had just become.

Saturday, August 25, 2007

Why I'll Never Be One of the Shiny Happy People

I'm too mean to be suck up and too much my mother's daughter to hide the fact. Now, I am a Southerner, which means I can bullshit with the best of them but there's a point where the bullshit walks and that's when it does serious harm. Others like to stir it til it stinks and then back off so the shit never sticks to them. I like to call them the Teflonics. Today, I'm blogging about them. Now, If you fit into this category don't read any further. If you do and it pisses you off, well, ain't that a bitch. Oh, the video doesn't fit exactly but the lyrics are damn close and I like it alot, hopefully it'll show up.

The Teflonics-Shiny Happy People-at least on the outside.

So, you've got that elusive IT. The thing that makes people follow you around with stars in their eyes. Your shiny IT is so bright it blinds your followers to your faults. If they're lucky, those faults are tiny things, maybe you fudge a bit when you divvie up the lunch bill and they wind up paying for your Diet Coke and double fudge brownie. Seriously, sycophants, should jump at the chance to shell out some cash for your company, right? Riiiight.

However, some lemmings ain't so lucky. Those supernovas superimposed over their retinas might be blocking something much more insidious--like the rotten little core under that gleaming hide. That's right, there's a pitch black lump of coal where most people have hearts and it beats at a slow calculated pace beneath a sparkly coating of sugar. In my experience and believe me, living down here, I've got some with the honeyed Mata Hari--hell, I'm kin to some of the best in the business--when you crack that shell what you're more than likely to find is pure unadulterated bullshit. Remember what I said about bullshit? It's fun to fool around with, but it still stinks when it sticks to you. Most don't know it's going to hit their fans until it's too late, because these shallow vapid folks spend a whole lot of time buffing that brittle coating of sugar to a high glossy sheen to hide their lack of polish in other areas. They do this when they should be examining their motives and maybe, just maybe, cleaning up their act.

Since there's no little blue pill for CD --conscience dysfuntion-- I don't see a quick fix in the future for the problems in the world today. People like the ones described above should look into harmless, useless careers like modeling or bubble gum pop stars. Heck being a mindless coat hanger would be right up their alley. Hey, even running for public office would be grand because they'd fit right in with the rest of the sharks who have smooth skin as long as you rub them the right way. Are yall getting my point? I've probably skewered myself on it, but I could give a damn. All I'm saying is people with CD should take a long hard look at themselves in the mirror and ask themselves "Do I like what I see?" If the answer is yes, well, sweetie, that makes one of us.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

I wanted to be purple

A WHITE Dragon Lies Beneath!

My inner dragon color is WHITE. Click here to try the Quiz!

If there ever was an apparition of balance, power and reclusive intelligence, your Inner Dragon is it. Whites are a fairly common dragon and are considered one of two harmonious dragons. Your antithesis is the evil Black Dragon. Together, you two embody the Yin and Yang concept of eastern religions (especially Taoism).

Though you might find that neat in passing, it's not really what a White is all about. You like to think things out, plot against enemies, and look down upon the world from the highest mountain peaks. Your favorable attributes are the Day, the Sun, reaching for spirituality, truth, a positive attitude, and helpful magic. Humans only need fear you when they stray into your domain without proper payment for passage. Of course, that payment would probably be a cake the size of a Volkswagen, but hey, if they wanted to move through your turf they should have brought it, right? If someone ever threatens you, your Inner Dragon would likely tell you to hit and run, or just plain run. If they really wanted a fight you'd be an impressive opponent, considering you pack a breath weapon combination of Fire and Lightning. Even the nicest dragons can do some serious damage.

Air Fairy

Sunday, August 19, 2007

Converting Others to Javaism

Today whilst in the supermarket I ran into Teen Mean's BF-In Law. Look, I know that's not a real term, but what else can I call her? Seriously. Anyway, she thinks Teen Mean is sweet and some junk. *pauses* LMAO!! That's so funny! Jeez. Okay where was I? Oh yeah. Apparently BF of Teen Mean aka Crazy Boy (CB), as he's nuts for real, has become obsessed with the with the Queen of the Bean. That's right, he too worships at the altar of the Java Goddess. *kneels and genuflects* Ahh Starbucks, thank you NorthWest!! Maybe they should have stopped there though. *mo of silence for Kurt* However, flannel? Please. No.

On with my story..

Poor BF in law did not realize this at first and thought that CB was being sweet and taking trips to Funroe out of the goodness of his heart. However, CB's evil kid bro NARC'd him out and now she knows about his caffeine addiction. She blamed Jethro the Redneck Jedi. She knows that the force is strong within him and her mother radar picks up the corrupting force inside him. She can tell all who come into contact with him will go to the Dork Side eventually. Already the CB watches The New Guy, 300, Fantastic 4, SpiderMan, XMen (Well, that one's okay Woo Hugh!) etc, with way too much frequency. Soon he'll be in the Comix Store with Jethro, you watch and see. I, Empress JennSoMean will try to stop it , because I know that poor Princess Teen Mean willl be heartbroken, but nobody can resist the Dork Force for long.

I was all too happy to let BF in law think that Jethro was at fault.. in the interests of familial relations, you understand. However, proving himself a tried and true Rebel Alliance Rat, Jethro finked me out. He told her that I was the reason CB was a jonesin java junkie, a teenaged tanked up tart! Me! I'm the one that's innocent and cute and sweet! (shut UP, yes I am!) He's always to take the blame and be the baddie! That was the agreement! My reputation is tarnished. Our treaty is null and void! Jethro is a pooh head. I shall never buy him another Iced Green Tea Latte' w/Whipped Cream as long as we both shall live. That's a promise! Well, unless he gives me the sad eyes, I'm a fool for those. The Dork Force is strong within him. His light saber ain't half bad either. *grins*

Jenna Leigh

Friday, August 17, 2007

The Jenmpson is Partying On Down

I have that shirt you know, but my hair don't look that good. Man, I'm jealous.
Go here. To get your Homertization of yourself. Thanks to
Kaz Augustin for hooking me I mean, showing me this. D'oh!

Also, join me and the other Champagne Authors for a 24 hour Beach Party at Coffee Time Romance's yahoo loop. Be there or be square. Peerless leader is offering discounts by the bucket loads and we promise not to kick sand in your face, honest.

If you're a hot hunk though, all bets are off on the beggin to rub oil on your back. Sorry, that's just how we were wired.

Other news, while I've got your ear.

4 Cups for The Last Legacy!!

The Last Legacy is a wonderful and overall sexy fantasy read that I will soon not forget. I found myself laughing at the antics and conversations between each loopy character….Fans of comedy and a wonderful romance ….will especially enjoy this tale.
~Kate at Coffee Time Romance

5 Lips for The Wolf's Heart!

The Wolf’s Heart ... is an engrossing and exceptional was like taking a journey with the characters. Jenna Leigh held me in the palm of her hand and controlled my emotions with her every word. [The author] keeps the story flowing quickly and it’s never stagnant. The dialog is fresh and witty and the action intense. I’ll be keeping a copy of The Wolf’s Heart on my e-reader for a long time! This is one book you MUST read!
~Tara Renee at Two Lips Reviews

I'd like to thank both these ladies so much for giving me such wonderful reviews!

Jenna Leigh

Sunday, August 12, 2007

Hellmouth a Safe Haven or.. Big Brother?

During the bad stuff that happened on Friday we fled to the Hellmouth. The fact that it became a refuge of sorts is scary in of itself, but it got me to thinking what if? And for a writer--me anyway--that's a dangerous thing.

What if the Hellmouth became Big Brother and started scanning your genitic code when you came in the door? Think about it. Those big grey monolithic thingis are sitting right there. You don't really think they're just for scanning CD and DVD's do you? Oh come on people! Get with the paranoia program! Slide on down my psychopath. You know you want to. It's easy just avoid the potholes though they're a bitch... and so am I. *grin*

Picture it:
The Nananator walks in the door and the place explodes! *snicker* Okay, seriously. Her skin emits a certain odor, a smell, or phermone that's picked up by those innocent grey things we all walk between because we're honest folk. As she does so, a silent alarm goes off, and lights flash red in the darkest abyss in the furthest reaches of the bowels of Ze Hellmouth. They immediately know. IT'S THE MAGPIE! TIME TO RESTOCK ALL THE SHINY SHIT AND THE SHOES!

Aisle 1: Captain Capitalist?
CC: Yes, Red One?
Red 1: We have two more blips on our buy-dar. They are somewhat like the Nananator but slightly altered by their different genetic backgrounds. One has been contaminated by vast quantities of cocoa beans and the other is so tall she simply stepped over sensors, however, we've got their files on record as. *pauses and takes a deep breath* Jennzilla and The Amazon Teen Queen of Mean!

Red 1: Yes Captain! I'm um.. standing right here, you don't have to yell. *mutters* idiot.
CC: Tell the Stockers to get out there and make sure we have plenty of THAT ONE'S favorite books on the shelves, chocolate, and for the love of legumes, can someone find some Peter Pan peanut butter? If I have to listen to her whine about the lack of it again, I may jump ship! *peers at the camera* Wait, Teen Mean is going into the dressing room and dragging Jennzilla in with her! The grandmother is wiggling the knob....

Red 1: Leapin' lingerie, they're trying on bras! F... falling prices, did she just throw one over the top of the door?

CC: She did! This isn't Petticoat Junction! Send someone around to..

Red 1: Wait, it slid down. Uh oh, it fell on the Nananator's head and she's staggering around blindly! She's going to run into the wall-o-smartass tee's!

*all gasp*

Red 1: Wait, they let her in. *sighs in relief* Good.

CC: Good? Are you mad? Now all three are in there together! There'll be parish wide panic!

Blue Leader: Captain, there's a phone call for you. It seems that Jennzilla's ally, Jethro the Redneck Jedi, the leader of the Rebel alliance has staged an attack at the Strop City branch of the Hellmouth with his DarthDaddy and the DiaperDemon Spawn. Even now they're hiding action figures,rifling through the baseball cards, and letting the Demon Spawn dive into the bargain DVD bin for the 'good shit they hide at the bottom.'

This report just in: Demon Spawn screamed the words "No damn cookies for Biddy!" and her eyes flashed red to match the lightsaber she hit Jethro with when he bent down to get her shoe for the five (hundreth) time. A lady fainted at the violence, or it could have been because she called him, "Boobah ahhshool' I wonder if that's a demonic chant?


CC: You're a spy!

Blue Leader: I'm not a spy! I'm just passing information.

CC: Oh but you are! Otherwise why would you call our fine store the Hellmouth?

Blue Leader: Ha! I'm more than that. I'm Jennzilla's first cousin twice removed. Long live chocy and Peter Pan peanut butter you captilist swine!! Bwhahahahhahah.

The Hellmouth will no longer be scanning the genetic codes of their customers as Jennzilla, Nananator and Teen Mean decided to go into the health and beauty department. Let's just say, Nana found some shampoo in a shiny bottle with a pair of flipflops on the back that had beads on them. Her happy shriek shattered the scanners and the eardrums of Captain Capitalist and R1. They were both of course wearing red vests.

Shopping... The Final Frontier.

Jenna Leigh

PS: Blue Leader aka Bobby Lee escaped into the wilds of Union Parish where he's happily awaiting the start of deer season.

Friday, August 10, 2007

Life in a Small Town

Should never be scarier than a Stephen King book, but today was. As I sat in my safe little cubicle waiting for the end of Friday little did I know that someone's world was ending right down the street in my tiny town of Bastrop.

Policemen put their lives on the line every single day without thanks, high pay, or recognition. They go in, do their jobs and keep us safe from the bad guys. And sometimes, the worst happens. Today, it did. I won't give out names, as that would be disrespectful to the men who died today and their families. If you'd like to know who they are, I'm sure you can find it, but it won't be on my blog. Needless to say, they died trying to protect us.

Where do I come in on all this? I'm just a secretary in my other usually more boring life of servitude to 'da man' where I work all day to make my ends, if not meet, then at least be able to see each other across a crowded room filled to the gills with bills. While a the SDJ, these men were brought in, along with two others who were shot. These two individuals, while not police officers, also have important jobs, they help save lives. They were injured in the line of duty as well.

My Sucky Day Job and man, yeah, it really does suck, and no, it's not a live saving or protect and serve one, unless you count the fact that my paycheck goes to serve my hubby's hunger. But honestly, after today, I figure, I don't have much to bitch about in the normal course of events. Boss is cool, if evil, I got a/c, and nobody shoots at me. Sort of puts my broke down fax into perspective.

edited so that I could put up the linkies. *we're a little slow in cyberland yall*

For a more indepth, but not objective report about what happened here's the link to the Bastrop Daily Enterprise.

After all, these are friends and family. They work and basically live side by side with each other day after day. These men were friends, family, kith and kin of of the reporters and bystanders. Someone asked in the News Star why they all came out and watched. They weren't rubbernecking, you know. They were caring. They couldn't not come and see, they were trying to in some way, help by praying, observing. It's hard not to be there when it effects your community so strongly. Truthfully, I wouldn't be surprised if some of those rednecks weren't packing in hopes of getting a shot at the ones who killed their friends.

My husband, JMorgan, knew the--I hesitate to say victims, let's go on and call them heroes as that's what they are-- he grew up with them, went to school with them. One of the deceased's has a brother who is on the force as well. Because we're such a small town, everyone knows everyone. On one hand that's great. On the other, when this sort of thing happens, it hits so hard, and I think the shockwaves will become a tsunami for us smalltown folks very soon.

To the families of the police officers who lost their lives, you have my deepest sympathies. Nothing will bring them back, but know that they were loved and well thought of by all of us and they will be missed. You are all are in my thoughts and prayers.


For more info and a BOLO for one of the suspects still at large, please go here
Monroe News Star

Saturday, July 14, 2007

Nana Lagoon or the River of No Return

My brother and his family came up from down south today so we went over to my mama's camp on the river. If that sounds like a lot of prepostions, well, too bad. Visiting with family is always fun even if said visit is with a sibling with which the proverbial rivalry has never quite been settled to either parties' satisfaction. Ahem.

Long ago in a galaxy far far away a he was born.

Young and innocent, but all too soon despite his sister's

attempts to keep him from it, he went over to the..

DORK SIDE becoming


Note how Jethro (also pictured above) used his Redneck Jedi mindtricks to get the Killer Clones to attack Darth Doofus.

Close up of the clones, they are evil little clones. Hmm, force is strong within these young meanieones.

Jethro the Redneck Jedi training Brookie-kan-shengakankan to fight for the Rebel Alliance. She's a master of .. well her saber's purple, I like purple the best.

Yes, was most amusing to all who watched, including someone so high up in the Rebel Alliance she has a sattelite named after her called the Moon of Jenndor. Not much is known about this moon which orbits the planet called Nana, but it is rumored that Jenndor is populated by scantily clad males who've all had their genes scrambled so they resemble Half Nekkie Hugh, Matt McHottyheyhey, Josh Hottieway and Mohinder WhoisHawt. Now you know why she's smiling in the the picture above. *grin* The waiting list to get onto the planet is long, and the toll is high. Payments may be made to Empress JennsoMean in the form of Godivas, books, posters, iced mochas and (good)movies etc.

Please be advised that the Attack of the Killer Clones is not considered a good movie, however, Star Trek is. Because despite being surrounded by the horrible display above all day (gack) Empress JennsoMean ruler of Jenndor is was and always shall be a Trekkie.


The JennPire Strikes Back!

Sunday, July 08, 2007

I'm a Full Featured Girl

Holly at the The Romance Studio put me in the hot seat.. come see how I held up to the pressure. Faelen thinks it's all about him and Lilly and I let him. The Romance Studio

Sunday, July 01, 2007

So.. Killed Anybody Lately?

Thanks to the ladies on Angela Knight's loop for making me think.. who have I killed and why? Of course, I went skipping down my own personal Psychopath, which is paved with purple bricks. But hey, the scenery's always nice, just watch for potholes, quicksand and falling chunks of chocolate.

There's violence in The Wolf's Heart and in The Last Legacy, more in the former than the latter. People die and um.. I enjoyed killing them. A. Lot. Let me say now, I'm not a potential serial killing freak. Of course, I'd say that even if I were so, I'll give you reasons.

Jenn's a Cereal Mom/Not a Serial One
I'm Only Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, yall.

1) I'm one of the most disorganized people in the whole world. Lists? Ha! I laugh at lists as I lose them in my black hole of a purse!
2) I'm lazy, and all that raising and lowering my arm constitutes exercise.
3) Dead people = Potential zombies. Ew! Brains brains.. acck! OMG!
4) Grudges? I don't need no stinking grudges. Honestly, I just forget crap easily. Who are you?
5) Can't be a tower sniper. Heights are not my friend. Yikes!
6) Hate the sight of other people's blood. Plus there's that germ thing.
7) They don't let you have butter in jail. I live in the Butter Belt.
8) My husband would be stuck with the evil child and cat. *pauses* That's might not be such a bad thing.
9) Most of the people in my area are kinfolk and therefore meaner than me and if not, their mothers most certainly are.

The final and most important reason..
10)My mother lives close enough to cut a switch and be at my house in 20 minutes.

Glad that's out of the way. I'm just garden variety crazy, not insane. So, does writing violence mean I'm a violent person? Nah. I wouldn't hurt someone. In fact, I couldn't do it the way I wrote in my books. I'm not a 7ft tall werewolf, a vamp or a witch. I can't cast spells, rip off limbs or any of the things I've written, but I can imagine it. I can see it being done. I can feel the power flowing through that character, I can for one moment, on that page, in that paragraph become that man or that woman who've come to kick ass and chew bubble gum. Of course, they're all out of bubble gum so we all know what happens then.

So who did I kill? That's a secret I'll take to my grave. In Wolf's Heart you may think you've figured it out, but it's just rage against the proverbial machine that needed an outlet. Ripping off arms, legs and well.. you'll have to buy the book for all the gory details. If you're thinking it's just a funny book like Braless or Spellfire, it's not. The heart of a wolf is dark and hungry, so be warned.

In The Last Legacy it isn't so obvious who my real victim is. And though some might think Lilly's mama is mine. She's so not.. the only real similarities between the two would be their neatness. My own mother would never repress my dreams. However, there is a point where I could see my mama's tendencies in each of the female characters. They all got into the action at some point, because I refused to let Faelen save the day, entirely. Women can be defenders and champions too.

Creativity is a chaotic process, beautiful yet at the same time, wonderfully terrifying and yes, violent, a lot like birth. There's a reason people use drugs to help with both of these. But with the results of creative births, we make the choice, buy it or leave it on the shelf. Read it or not. Personally, I'm okay with violence as long as it stays safely in books, TV shows, movies and yeah even rap songs.

I do think that writing violence helps me with my every day frustrations with my fellow ass.. um.. humans. After a particularly bloody scene I can smile and pretend to be a nice person. I'm not all that mean anyway, but still it helps me attain that southern belle sweetness that for so long eluded me. Yall know, that phony public face nobody really believes but helps you make it through the day without being fired from the Sucky Day Job. *meh*

The Fake Sweet Southern Belle Known As,


Saturday, June 30, 2007

Fantastic? Hmm, pretty good.

It's been established that my hubby has a deep and abiding love of comic book flicks. In fact, I dub him Sir William, The Duke of Comic Cinema. Whilst I being a good and trusting wife slaved over the shopping list in ZE HELLMART, he ran off to the electronics department. Oh, fine.. I was sniffing the shampoo, are yall happy? I like to sniff the shampoo, it's one of my all time fave things in the whole wide world! Sheesh! The point is this, His Grace of Geekdom got into a slight altercation with the Concubines of Capitalism at our fine department store. All about this...

He wanted this movie they said they didn't have it. He roamed around until he found an entire end cap full of them. This usually laid back man became a royal pain the the ass and stalked back to the counter informing them of the movies' location. (by shoving the DVD in their faces) He then came over to me and said they couldn't find their butts with both hands and a map. It could have gotten ugly if not for the distraction of the strawberry milkshake oreo cookies I'd placed strategically in my buggy.

So, we came home and after the putting away of groceries, some into airtight containers to keep them away from the invasive ants (grr) I lay down to rest on the couch and was subjected to this movie. (It's on again as I type by the way) It was better than I thought it'd be, not as good as say X-Men as sadly, there's no Hugh Jackman to be found anywhere, despite me looking for him. *coughs* All I'm sayin is any movie is made better for the blatant placement of the Half-Nekkie Hugh, or any blog for that matter.

Where was I? *blink blink blink* Oh, yes. What in the world were these Fantastic Fruitcakes thinking when they threw their lot in with a man named Victor Von Doom anyway? I mean really, yall, I know he's not that sort of doctor-- though he plays one on TV*snicker*--but if I were a patient and he came into my room holding out that sinisterly shiny hand of his saying, "Hi, I'm Dr. Von Doom.." That's it.. I'd be out the door before the lights could blink twice.

He was hot on Charmed too but even then.. gack! He was a demon therefore, bad. Since Sue and Reed are all smart and some junk, I know they don't watch TV except for the news or maybe a documentary on the migration habits of the Mongrovian fruit bat for shits and giggles. *rolls eyes* But I'm betting The Human Torch aka Mr. Man Hoor aka Johnny never missed an episode of the WonderBra Witches, so he should have known that Vic was a baddie before they ever hopped a rocket with him. Doom is not a person I'd be going into space with. Surely that name's a jinx. And you know he's bad anyway because he's the only one who's got any dang money in the whole movie!

Only the rich and powerful are really bad in comic movies, unless they have an English accent, a disability and are um.. bald. *Ref to Charles Xavier X-Men home of Half Nekkid Hugh*

If you're mysteriously wealthy, can walk, have all your hair and have an English accent even though you're from Germany and you're Jewish, well, you are bad! Wait, no not bad, yes, bad, no, sort of ambiguous, no bad! We're not sure really, all we know is your powers are gone. Or are we? That chess piece moved. Hmm. Dammit! *Ref to Magneto X-Men Home of.. ahem.. anyway.*

If you have all your hair, can walk and are rich (or were before you lost yo' mind) have a big science-y brain and/or are willing to experiment on yourself and hate spiders, you might be a Spiderman baddie. *Ref to Norman Osborn aka the Green Goblin and his son Harry aka Lil Green and also Dr. Otto Octavius* I think someone didn't care for his science teacher.. hmm.

Note: I only meet one of the above qualifiers, thank you very much! Wait, three , I got hair, I can walk and spiders are really icky. Well, I don't care.. Spiderman sux. More Half Nekkid Hugh!!

While Fantastic Four has made HRH happy.. I wasn't as impressed. Of course, I grade on a different scale. No Hugh and nobody as cute as Ghost Ridin' Nick Cage in a damp towel or as oldster sexy as Sam Elliot either. The action was great though and my fave character of the entire movie was Tha Thang.

Wait a minute, if he's the Duke, that makes me..The Duchess of Geekdom!

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Time to Howl!!

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket
It's out! I'm so happy I could, well, to tell the truth, I'm too tired to do much more than wiggle my butt around in my chair right now, but I can shake that thang, lemme tell ya.

Blurb: When a nosy reporter reunites with a werewolf in tycoon’s clothing, sparks fly and passions ignite. The burning question is, who’s taming who?

Investigative Reporter Elaine Westerbrook is determined to find the answers to the questions that haunt her. Plagued all her life by dreams of creatures that can’t possibly exist, she’ll do anything to get the information she needs, up to and including reigniting a fire with the deliciously mysterious Marcus Bei—a fire she thought extinguished long ago.

Marcus Bei fought tooth and claw to be an Alpha in the corporate world but it’s nothing compared to being Alpha of his pack. It’s lonely at the top as the Lupin of the Arizona werewolf pack, but that’s the price he’ll pay to keep his pack safe from his father and others like him. So when childhood sweetheart Elaine walks back into his life, his first instinct is to shove her right back out again. But Marcus can’t find the strength to push away the very thing his other half has been waiting for so long—his mate.

Together, Marcus and Elaine search for the truth and find out if they have a future in spite of a past threatening to tear them apart. Will Elaine run when she discovers what Marcus really is, or will she accept The Wolf’s Heart?

Doin' the Chair Cha Cha

Jenna Leigh

Thursday, June 21, 2007

The Last Legacy is out now!

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Lilly Tremaine only thinks she wants to live in a fantasy world. Meeting Faelen McKenna might change her mind. He is a wyvern and a very special one, able to change into a man, if only at night. The guardian of her family for almost a thousand years, he’s here to protect her. When they finally meet face to face, sparks fly. Unfortunately, they are flying from Lilly’s eyes because he has to be the most exasperating man she's ever met.

When he whisks her off to the magical realm of Aetherea, she is amazed at the denizens of this new land. Gods, elves, fairies, muses, dragons and queens are all living in a parallel universe that exists alongside reality. However, danger looms on the horizon, because someone is trying to keep Faelen and Lilly apart. They fight the forces of evil to achieve what every fairy tale must have, a happy ending.

He grinned mischievously at her and spoke in a monotone. "You’re traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound, but of mind, a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That’s the signpost up ahead: Your next stop: The Twilight Zone."

She jumped when the theme song began to play on the radio. "Make that stop!" She put her hands over her ears and closed her eyes. What if she turned her head and that banshee thing was looking in her window? She would die on the spot. She hated that movie, hated that part of the movie even more so. The thought of it still had the power to give her chills. Lilly used to imagine the engine-ripping hag sitting on a tree branch outside her window waiting for her to look at her before she ripped out her heart.

When nothing scratched at the window, she opened one eye and looked around. It all seemed normal. However, years of cinematic training had taught her that’s exactly what they wanted her to think before they got her. She shuddered, cursing every book and movie she’d ever read for fueling her imagination about how bad the ‘they’ could actually be.

"Lilly, calm down. This isn’t the Twilight Zone. It’s only another place, slightly to left of the center of the universe. My kind isn’t normal, so we don’t have a normal place where just anyone can find it. This is the land of magic, the fairy, if you will. One owns this pub we’re going to, in fact. Come on." He got out and hurried around to open her door.

She sat with her fists clenched tightly in her lap. When he opened the door and the light came on, she gave another squeak and cringed. "Don’t be the banshee lady."

"Lilly! I’m not the banshee lady. She owns the music store down the street. She’s very nice."
Despite his reasonable tone, she refused to leave the safety of the car. Instead, she curled up a little further in the seat. He squatted down beside her and put his hand on hers, giving it a tug. "Come on."

"No, you go on ahead, I’ll be fine right here, honest." She closed her eyes again.

"I will protect you, I promise." He sounded sincere, plus, she hadn’t heard any banshees howling yet.

She cracked one eye open. "Swear?"

"Yes." He raised his right hand and gave her a solemn look. She stared back just as solemnly then, with a decisive nod let him help her out of the car. Her legs were shaky, but the warmth of his hand on her arm was reassuring. Lilly smoothed her dress, then her hair.

"Stop fidgeting, you look fine." He put his arm around her waist as he led her to the door of the pub. Soon they stood before an ancient round door studded with square-headed nails. It looked like the entrance to a dungeon, or hell. Either way, she was sure whatever lay behind it would terrify her. Banshees? There were actually banshees? This sucked rocks.

Faelen knocked, and a small panel about midway on the door opened.

"Who is it?" someone hissed.

"Who the hell do you think?" Faelen leaned down and glared at the person behind the door. "Let me in, dammit. It’s cold."

"Bloody hell, you again?" The panel slid closed and Lilly sighed in relief. Good, they couldn’t go in; she was fine with that, really. Then came a sound designed to fill a person with dread, a sound to chill the bones, and still the beating of a person’s heart. It was the creaking of the door opening.

Saturday, June 16, 2007

Trailer Trash Barbie and Her Little Sister is Skipper

Thanks to an email from Jamie Hill I have a Rant.. I mean blog subject. Britney Spears, who's been acting like she ain't got the sense God gave a billy goat now wants her fans to name her CD for her. Seriously she expects people to buy it, she should at least have the decency to name it.

She started out with a bang. I remember when she jumped out onto the stage in her white pants and pink belly baring top shaking her jailbait money maker like she had good sense. I know people wondered what her mama was thinking. I can guess what Mama Spears thought cause, I know the area the vapid little cow hails from. There ain't no future down there for girls but marrying some loser with kids of his own, who only wants to make her pregnant ASAP.

Wait, that's what happened with KFed. Hmm. Apparently, even the goofy as she is, she could see the irony of her situation because she started drinking and partying hard. Of course, she's 'sober' and is in rehab now. At least she will be until the get out of jail party her friend Paris Slut-ton throws.

Well, she'd best shape up! Hasn't she ever watched Steel Magnolias? Dolly Parton would bitch slap her with a curling iron then give her one of her wigs, and let's face it, she needs it because whatever that thing is she's been wearing looks like poodle that's been run over by truck. If it were up to me, we'd rescind her citizenship making so she could NEVER cross the Louisiana state line again and take that insanimaniac family of hers with her.

Now look none of us are perfect down here. People love our 'Cajun Cookin' but we're even more famous for our crooked politicians past and present. Then, there were those crazed looters who stole jewelry and furs because dammit they were hungry *rolls eyes* haven't we all had a tasty grilled diamond bracelet? As Rachel Raye would say, "Yummo!" Then there's the familiar refrain of "Who dat talking bout beatin dem Saints, who dat?" And the even more familiar snarky reply of "Basically, every team in the NFL, har har har!" That's fine, LSU won so yall can just kiss our Lagnappe, ya hear? But damn, that girl gives us good Louisiana folks a bad name.

I'm going to say this for all of us downhome, backroad, country girls who have kept our mouths shut because we've had what we like to call home raising. We were taught to be polite, not to raise a fuss. But there comes a time in every Southern Girl's life when enough is enough. It's time to face the ugly truth. Britney please, for the love of gumbo, stop flashing your hoohah by 'mistake'. That's a lie, yall. Every Southern girl learned from the time she could walk, how to get out of a frickin Bigfoot truck in a short skirt and high heels on Sunday morning without showing the preacher what they got. If that girl wants me to believe she can't get out of a lowslung limo without showing the free world her Brazilian, well, she's out of her shaved little brain. And if she can't.. here's a thought..wear underwear.

Perhaps she's just been away too long. Britney, honey, stop flashing. For one thing, it's not the season for it. And another, even during Mardi Gras, every Louisiana girl knows the phrase is "Show Us Your Tits" not your bits.

Bayou Babe

Jenna Leigh

Friday, June 01, 2007

Somthin' Sinister's A'Slitherin' at the Circle K

I'm a former employee of this chain of stores whose only real claim to fame was being in the fine piece of cinema known as Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. You know the movie that launched fine actors such as Alex Winter and others. Except the dude that played Ted, his career just went nowhere, huh? But , I'm not here to talk about cute yet wooden-faced actors who can't act for crap (unless he's high), but look damned good doing it. (Well, perhaps when I was high)

No, this is about the Circle K, namely the one in my Redneck of the woods. One of the employees of Circle K called my father-in-law (the manager) a few minutes ago to come and kill a five foot long water moccasin. His reply. "Kiss my old Irish arse. I'm disabled, remember? Oh yes I am dammit! I'm diabetic!" *click*

Now, I realize what you're all thinkin'. Ah, this is Jenn, she says she lives in 'das stix' so, what's the big deal? Yeah yeah, I live in the sticks but Circle K is in what passes for the city around here. Stroptropolis, if you will. Then, and here's the kicker. This is the fourth very large water moccasin they've gotten out of Circle K in the past month. I'm not really afraid of snakes. Okay, don't get me wrong, I'm not their biggest fan either, but a water moccasin is not one of my favorites because it's aggressive, territorial and if you wanna know the freakin truth, just plain mean.

I don't know about yall, but I figure it's time to call in a professional or failing that a psycho, namely my mother. She feels snakes and sharks are all out to get her anyway and has adopted "Shoot them suckers first" as her motto, hell, it's on our family crest. If you're wondering, that would be a hand written sign to warn people about stealing our crap. People meaning strangers who don't know about my mother.

I figure my father-in-law could give my mama a carton of siggies, a pair of boots, and a box of ammo and just let her go to town in there. He'd get rid of the snakes and the store would be well ventilated by the time she was done. Being that it is my mother, before she left, the candy would be color coded, dusted, and aligned with the planet Venus too. You do not want to freaking know what it was like living with Mondo Mommy Dearest From Hell. She should be glad she ain't well ventilated is all I'm sayin.

So, please, be aware that the snakes are out and apparently, they think they're supposed to be shoppin at the local convenience stores. Okay, I don't know what they're thinkin' but unless you've got my mother on your hip (God knows she'd fit!) just be careful.

Luv and Hisses!


Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Like Pulling Teeth

Most women when faced with their children in distress or pain. Freak. Me? Well, I think it's been established I'm not most women. Okay, don't get me wrong, I'm not laughing at her. She's hurting. I get that. But really, I've had teeth pulled. It's not that bad. Let me go one further and say, I've had teeth pulled without the benefit of gas and/or intravenous drugs. It's. Not. That. Bad.

Shots. That's all I'm saying.

I took my kidlet to the oral surgeon to have her wisdom teeth cut out. She just had to have her bf along for teenaged moral-less support. My mother gagged when she heard about it and informed me she was going to need insulin it was just that sweet, but that's beside the point. Anyway, I went back in the room with Mozilla, Amazon Teen Queen of Mean. She informed me that she'd rather the bf, went with her. Well, by God, I went back there with her. Cause I'm the mommy, that's why! (no yall didn't ask, she did!)

Those long legs of hers hung off the edge of the chair, touching the floor, so it was sorta funny. But, I teared up when her big brown peepers never left mine, and she kept hold of my hand really tight. I confess to holding on way after she passed out completely too. *sniffs* Then, they broke out them freaky socket wrenches and I ran back to the safety of the waiting room to hide under my hubby's arm like a scared lil bunny rabbit. Yes, her bf asked about her and he looked worried. I may need insulin too. *sniffs* Oh shut UP!

After a few minutes, I stepped outside to sniffle in peace and called the Nananator and told her she was under the influence of the 'good drugs', and then told her the bad news. Since hubby had to go to work (grr) we weren't going to come by her job on our way back since we had to stop off to the Hellmouth for gummy wummy mouth mouth food for the Mozilla. Five (I kid you not) seconds later, she calls back. "I'm on my way." Dear God, the woman is such a baby! *sniffs* I said shut up!

Well, crap! Right after that, it was over and they've got her parked out back in a wheelchair waiting on us to pick her up. So, I call my mama back and tell her to meet us at Hellmouth. Then, it's getting this 6ft heifer in the car. She's higher than a Georgia pine, but finally her father and the bf get her in the back of the truck. Wait, let me rephrase. We have her in the back of the Explorer with the seat down and a pillow under her head. I do NOT have my baby in the back end of a pickup truck. Ahem. She proceeeds to take the gauze out her mouth and wave it around trying to hand it to me, making her bf and her father gag and scream. Oh the joy. Evil doped up child. (smiles)

Anyway, I shall refrain from comparing my husband's (slowass) driving to my mother's (like a bat outta hell, yall)abilities, so, when we pull into the parking lot, I'm not surprised to see that we are almost broadsided by The Nana Mobile. However, the hubby, who thinks he drives like Dale Jr instead of Ms Daisy, is and screams extra loud, making my doped up daughter's boyfriend do the same. This makes my doped up daughter sit up and yell "MMPH?" in wideeyed surprise.

I answer, "Nana."

Mozilla "Mmph." Falls back on the seat.

Then we have the ice cream, popcicle, drink fight. Do not fight with your child when she's on the 'good drugs' Just buy her whatever you want. Do not try to get her to understand that you're going to buy her a drink and popcicles or ice cream. It will not happen. Oh and make sure her boyfriend isn't RECORDING YOU ON THE CAMERA PHONE. I swear if I end up on the You Tube, someone's ass is grass and I'm gonna be the lawn mower. For Real.

Jenn Deere
I mean it!

Sunday, May 20, 2007

I Write Corrected

Hard as it is to admit, I need mondo editing. Yeah yeah yeah, I know very well I'm not perfect. But when you write a character, flawed as they are, you want to think they are. I know that sounds weird, but it's true. I don't want a character who never makes a mistake, how boring, how icky. I'd hate him or her and would want to kill them by the second page if you must know. Villains are the only perfect characters, and they are the only ones who see themselves as such because they're crazier than a cracker jack.

**Author Note: Hey now, I know I'm nuts! But I also know I'm not perfect, I'm just the regular garden variety sort of crazy, not that take over the world kind. Let's call me lazy crazy, okay? This means, I won't take over the world, but if someone hands it to me, I'll say, "Thank yall!" and make Hugh Jackman my pool boy. Lazy crazy like a fox in other words *drool*

Fantasies of unlikely world and even unlikelier hunky Aussie domination aside, it's bad enough writing the stupid sucksnotsissy (yuckamundo). Then you have to get your courage up to submit the darned thing. After that, you wait.. and wait.. and wait.. and finally just when you think they hate it. They. Say. Yes! And all is right with the world. Birds sing. Flowers bloom. Author squeals in happy delight. Life is a wonderful thing. Chocolate pales beside being accepted. Wait a dang minute, let's not go too far. Hmm.

Then horror of horrors, you get a file marked edits. You open it and discover that you may very well suck some serious eggs. Now, I'm not talking terrible, not really. But when it's your work, it seems like it. This creation that you slaved over for an eternity, polishing, honing, fixing this world you lived inside, with people you know better than you know some of your own family members--and better than I want to know some of mine--is being criticized by someone who is logical, critical and objective. Hooray for the readers!! Boohoo for your ego. *sniffles*

For a long time I belonged to a group where we jokingly (or not so, in my case) called author Sheri Kenyon the AG--Author Goddess. Now that I write something other than a post or two, I understand that better. She is a goddess because what she writes is divine, however, she also creates a world that's hers alone, though she's gracious enough to share it with so many in that fanfic group.

I've finally figured out that I too I make a world where my characters live. I'm not divine in any sense of the word, or if I am, I'm more along the lines of a Bitch Goddess Supreme, needy, crazy, and er.. a bit sadistic. I'll strip whole scenes and replace them at a minute's notice. I put my characters in the worse scenarios, snickering with glee as I go for the laugh almost every time. I'm the Jokester, the Prankster, the Trickster from Hell. I don't care who knows it either. It's my nature to do what I want, when I want.

But show me edits and I instantly regress to a second grader with my most scary teacher ever. I cringe at the sight of red marks. I quail at all the highlighted words that mean I'm a repeat offender, using the same words again and again. Don't get me started on the comment balloons. I've gone from Bitch Goddess to a postulant in two seconds flat, that's gotta be a record, right?

However, there's something to be learned from all this, besides a lesson in humility, grammar and dear Lord in Literary Heaven, save me from freakin tags please! Never underestimate your editors. They'll keep you from looking like a complete and utter goober. Look at my blog for instance. Nobody edits this thing but me and it shows.

My publisher once joked that I should worship my editor as she saves my ass from the fires of error hell.. I snickered and told her I'd be properly respectful. But what she said is true. They catch stupid mistakes. I'm a writer, not an editor. Creation is a chaotic event. I love my characters which is how it's supposed to be, if I didn't love them, the reader wouldn't either. But as we all know love is a very messy business and editors get the unenviable job of cleaning up an author's work. Artistic temperament anyone?

I don't whine, (out loud) my mouth is too full of therapeutic chocolate to do something so childish. But with all those red pen marks all over the place it makes me feel like I got an F on my report card. I expect my mother to come in at any minute and take away my television as punishment.

So, salute your editor.. worship them Set up altars, eat chocolate in their names. Whatever gets you through the process of doing exactly what they tell you to do. Because they know what they're doing. In the immortal words of my mommy. "This hurts me more than it hurts you, dear. " I highly doubt that, but I'm using that phrase and hella coffee to get through it all. Ohmmm.

Blue Bayou Babe,

PS: Yes, the picture of Hugh is there to cheer me up, and yes, it is working.