Thursday, August 30, 2007

Tomorrow is Friday. So to celebrate..

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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