Wednesday, March 24, 2010



BY:  Angelica Hart and Zi

When at a party where there are people I don't know, I am in an element that instigates my imagination.  What to say becomes the direct pay-off of how people I meet make me feel or the situation of the moment.  It can be like an improv class.  Of course it is appropriate but unexpected by most.  But does it start out that way?  Nope!  I sit back and study the group.  I ask myself questions.  Why are those two together?  What is she wearing beneath that dress... what could she  possibly be wearing... it is too sheer... could she be... naked?  She has to be naked.  I know I could tell if she hadn't bikini waxed.

I see a couple.  I figure that they are young and in love.  So what is the truth of their youth?  What does he smell like?  What does she?  How long did they spend getting ready?  What does she taste like when they kiss?  Does she taste different in
public then in private?  Who is alpha?  Would she ask?  Beg?  Take?  Would he?  Have they ever danced nude... at night... and in the rain... why... why not?  Does he naturally take her hand when people encroach?  Does she find protection from him?  Does she glow?  Does he?  But do they glow apart?  Is there a kinetic attraction that is felt when they are separated?  Could anyone sense their affinity for each other? 

One of the greatest quotes that I heard uttered, moved me.  "I saw her across the room (at a party) and the only voice I heard was hers.  Heard her all night.  So I had to meet her."  Ten years later they are together.  I find myself compelled to understand attraction.  I am drawn to that allure. 

So for a period of time I am a party voyeur and then I mingle.  And try to resolve my questions.  While others dance, small-talk, and double-dip their chips, I query.  I'll ask the hostess how could she possibly pull that dress off wearing undies?  And if I am lucky she'll reply, "You want to pull that dress off... and see?"  We'd laugh but she'd tell me.  And so the night begins.  Asking questions maybe everyone else wanted to ask.  Doesn't Max understand his toupee looks anything but natural?  Hey bud, your merkin is moving to high ground?  Could Wayne have worn a shirt with more wrinkles?  Own an iron that works?  And does Paula know every old geezer is ogling her blouse's décolleté?  Does she know she's nipus erecti?  I bet she knows.  Go Paula.  I'll ask.  

It is endless this query, these questions, these provocative thoughts, for the need to be inside a character forces the need to understand people.  So, next time you are at a party or gathering, see beyond the person and invent who you think they are.  Might be even more interesting than the truth.

We'd love to hear from anyone interested in what we do. Anyone who writes us at and leaves an s-mail address, we will send you a gift and add you to any future mailings.

Angelica Hart and Zi
KILLER DOLLS ~ September 2009
SNAKE DANCE ~ February 2010

KILLER DOLLS and SNAKE DANCE can be purchased at
Champagne Books


Friday, March 19, 2010

A Cover, A Page and A Website by TK Toppin

At long last, my book has a cover! I am pleased - very - with it. Although, it does take some getting used to. The girl on the cover isn't quite how I imagined my star-girl to look like. But, that's okay.

So, now that the cover is born, I can now proceed with promoting myself to the masses and set myself up for the April release. Of course, where to start?

Facebook...that handy, user-friendly site that gazillions flock to every morning, noon and night to stay in touch with the rest of the gazillions. Whether its to chat with buddies, search out long lost friends, play Farmville and Bejeweled, you name it...every next person including yourself has a Facebook account. And even those that don't will soon start to feel the enticing pull as the Facebook pheromones tickle the senses. It's as addictive as that first cup of coffee in the morning...right up there with checking your email.

So, why not start by advertising on Facebook - a dedicated page to promote The Lancaster Rule and let people Become A Fan. This week, I did just that, created a page and invited all my friends to follow me - oh wait, that's a Twitter phrase. Oops, my mistake. Speaking of which, Twitter is my next step. I've already an account with them, but try as I might, Twitter is a lost cause to me for the moment. I must be an old fashioned Twit since I'm yet to grasp the full benefits of Tweeting and Twittering, that I feel like a right old Twat! Never mind, I'm digressing here.

Facebook, I understand. However, it did take me the whole day and then the next to figure out how best to launch myself. If you've been following my blog from the very beginning, you'll understand that I've an aversion to 'public nudity' like so many out there. Launching yourself onto a public network for the world to see, well, that's pretty borderline exhibitionist there. But, I had to remember that it was for the sake of the book, and not really about me. The story is an interesting and engaging tale with unforgettable characters, if I do say so myself. The world at large needs to meet them and forget about whinging teenage vampires and the lives of troubled celebrity biographies that all start to sound the same.

Anyway, for those interested, simply type in the book's name and hit search. And become a fan like you've become a fan to almost anything that deems following or being associated to...yes, even you who will eventually become a fan of 'We Don't Care About The Lancaster Rule Blogs...' But in the event that that does ever appear on Facebook...uhm...just click ignore, thanks.

A website is my next step. Creating and designing, I understand - actually creating and designing a website, I don't. I may have been in the graphic arts world for half my life, but websites are like a foreign entity. Thankfully, I have a dear friend who has decided to help me out there. Its slow going, information-wise and what I deem to be worthwhile for a webpage, but it's getting there. Pretty soon, you can click to a link called: I can't guarantee you'll be transported to a whole new world with amazing vistas that you'll have to write home about, but you will be kept up-to-date with Lancaster Rule 'stuffs' as well as up coming books that are on my plate. At present, the sequel is being self-edited and a few bits and pieces are being added to it.

And so, there it is...the next step to becoming a household name (oh, please-please-please buy the book!!) and hopefully establishing myself as a writer. A real writer, I must stress.

However, when the first bad reviews come in...if you never hear from me again, don't be alarmed. I'll still be on Facebook, cowering under an assumed name and living somewhere in Farmville with no neighbours.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

STRICTLY NAUGHTY By: Angelica Hart and Zi

By:  Angelica Hart and Zi

We have had opportunity to talk to many people that have an interest in writing. One of the themes that runs as if a stream of consciousness is writer's block. With empathy we listen to wannabe authors describe something tougher than a $2.00 flank steak. That blank white field before you taunting and teasing, "Fill me... fill me... with profound and purposeful rhetoric."

Ouch that does hurt. That screen needs a time-out. Bingo... that is what you need to do. Take the time to figure out what you want to say.  There is a study out there, it might have been done by someone from Penn. This person polled famous and accomplished authors and asked what was the most important thing. The preponderance of responses were similar. To distill that... have something to say. That is right. Have something to say. There are plenty of people that craft well, many superiorly but if what they create is shallow or without an audience... then to what end? Pretty prose without purpose is like having cheese cake without sugar, just doesn't sit as well on the palette.

We once met a woman who wanted to write romance. Asked her to send us samples. She wrote erotica. We suggested she add romance, pointing out places where she could punch it up. She returned the piece and had written better and more erotica. She did have something to say. It was not romance. We recommended that she pursue that audience. She did. She's happy writing strictly naughty.

In our stories always know what we wanted to say. And sometimes it is as simple as love can be found anywhere, anytime by anyone if you look for it.

We'd love to hear from anyone interested in what we do. Anyone who writes us at and leaves an s-mail address, we will send you a gift and add you to any future mailings.

Angelica Hart and Zi
KILLER DOLLS ~ September 2009
SNAKE DANCE ~ February 2010

KILLER DOLLS and SNAKE DANCE can be purchased at
Champagne Books



Saturday, March 13, 2010

Champagne Enterprises Announces New Distribution Agreement

Champagne Enterprises Announces New Distribution Agreement

Champagne Books, an independent small press located in Calgary, AB Canada. Our books are available in electronic and trade paperback formats. With only the best authors, you can be guaranteed of the highest quality fiction at the best possible price.

PR Log (Press Release)Mar 13, 2010 – Champagne Enterprises has signed a distribution agreement with Bookstrand.Com (Siren-Bookstrand Inc.)

We are pleased and excited for this new partnership. Publisher J. Ellen Smith states, “Finding new markets is always a treat. There is nothing better than getting your products out in front of an entirely new audience. We expect this to be lucrative for both Bookstrand and ourselves.”

Immediately, our erotic division, Carnal Passions, will begin uploading titles to the store, with our mainstream division, Champagne Books, following shortly thereafter.

For more information about either imprints, including submission guidelines, please visit us online at or .

J. Ellen Smith
Champagne Books
Carnal Passions

Thursday, March 11, 2010

CURIOUS By: Angelica Hart and Zi

By:  Angelica Hart and Zi

We question.

A man is an incubus... a woman is a succubus... therefore are angels, boogeymen, and tooth fairies exempt? If a mosquito bites you at night it is by definition a succubus and thus female? And what would you call someone who is of the transgender orientation? A transcubus? What about an asexual? Acubus? And does that A bus stop at B Street?

We question.

When I hear the expression peter out I react as if someone is flashing someone. Chester the Molester is in the park pulling open his trench coat. It is one of those phrases that engenders different reaction. Another is fire in the hole. I immediately think of a series of wrong thinking thoughts, a flame swallower's act gone badly, an enflamed STD, ejaculation, hemorrhoids, and amazing hot and promiscuous gal. All bad.. bad... bad thinking on my part. Expressions are imagination's fodder. Fit to the T... wet t-shirt contest. Holy Toledo... naughty Toledo. To pull strings... a mischievous lad eyeing a string bikini at the beach. Flash point... drink three... and flash tube... the top she lifts. Hard-and-fast... wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am. Wapper-jawed... well, my thoughts are so... well, I ain't going there. Phrases cause my mind to explode and sexplode.

We question.

If men are dogs then are women cats? Possibly. Thus the name puss and all it derivatives? Why don't women use their tongues to groom? Do they? My Grams licked her hand to fix my hair and her thumb to rub away a smudge. What else do they lick? And since cats can lick every part of their bodies why do they need men? Could a shaved cat be called a PPP. Discretion keeps me from defining the Ps. Write us and guess what we intended.

We question.

Here I sit all brokenhearted... paid a dime to poop but only farted. Where have all the pay-toilets gone? Why is Jack the nickname of John? Since we never call the privy Jack then are we always being formal? Why are there moons on out-houses and the biggest question is why did my granddad have a two-seater out-house. Who would have gone in together? Why? He and grandma... eeeesssh!

We question.

Why do runs in women's hosiery run up? A perverted function of the stitchery? A convoluted effort to provide some pleasure at a time of frustration? Because everything else runs down their legs? Oh, smack my wrist... I was a naughty boy. He-he-he.

We question.

If the male part of the body, and we know to what Angelica is referencing, is called a wiener must we in order to not offend qualify by referring to it as a Ball Park wiener. They plump when they cook them. Thus continuing the point that all men are not just dogs but wiener dogs. And then what is meant when someone is weaned off something? Interesting? Sick? Angelica wrote this. Complain to her. Please!

We question... why... because we do.

As we sat to write KILLER DOLLS and SNAKE DANCE we discussed the heroes' motivations, we questioned what would scare them. The thoughts scared us. We went heart-ripper. Neither are your grandmother's traditional reads. Read!

We'd love to hear from anyone interested in what we do. Anyone who writes us at and leaves an s-mail address, we will send you a gift and add you to any future mailings.

Angelica Hart and Zi
KILLER DOLLS ~ September 2009
SNAKE DANCE ~ February 2010

KILLER DOLLS and SNAKE DANCE can be purchased at
Champagne Books



Monday, March 8, 2010

Tattle & Wrye - March 2010



Dressed in flamboyant green with butter cream colored trim, Tattle looks like a nutty Irish lass with tweaked wild hair, however, she believes herself and her basket of Irish potato candy, is quite fetching.  She jigs!

Wearing the traditional hat, curl-toed boots and green of the shamrock, Wrye grins, "Top of the Mornin' to ye.  What is a nuahcerpel?"  He jigs!

Tattle returns, "And the rest of the day to yerself.  What is a nuahcerpel?"  She re-jigs!

"Dressed in green, tiniest man ever seen, catch me is told, if ye wants me gold.  Iss' a Leprechaun, backwards.  Do you like my outfit?" he turns backwards, peering over his shoulder. "Snack for our Love of Literature Leap?"  Reaches into the basket and takes a fistful of the edible treats, "Cream cheese, coconut, sham rock me happy."  He re-jigs!

"As many as ye can fit in ye pocket, m'Leprechaun-bud."   

With a pre-leaping joint jig, they're off.

Upon landing in Carol McPhee's Romantic Suspense, A STRUCTURED AFFAIR, Wrye sings a few notes of O' Danny Boooy and stops short, realizing he's in the midst of a downpour.  Tattle hands him a newspaper, and he quickly covers his head.  "Lucky?  As finding a horseshoe in a field of clover, which means some horse is barefoot."

Ignoring his puffery, she points to the paper and says, "Read it," as she escorts him out of the deluge and into a mansion.

First shakes like a dog, flipping off water.  "HEIRESS FALLS TO HER DEATH," Wrye reads aloud, mutters for a bit, "Blarney!" and then, "Ah, Detective Sloane Jamieson himself suspects murder, and that Stephen Morgan, the husband, could be the killer."  Mystery looms?

"'tis for certain he suspects," agrees Tattle, she neatly folds the paper and places it in her apron pocket, planning on recycling for 'tis the season to be green.  "Stephen is a quiet, reticent artist, who is aware of Sloane's mistrust.  A hunky hunk of misunderstanding.  He is also cognizant of the rumors that he only married Emily, the victim, because she had been pregnant.  Exquisite drama!  Now, presently, their child, Stephanie, is seven years old, and in fragile health.  Could there be a larger parental pain?"  A ball of a tear forms in her left eye.

Balancing on his shillelagh, he passes an eyelet hanky.  "With not enough evidence to convict....  Struggle!   Sloane uses the department's psychologist, Catherine Malloy as an undercover agent.  She the love interest? How intriguing to watch her infiltrate the family as Stephanie's governess." 

Sensing a candy moment, she pickpockets Wrye, letting the sweet melt in her mouth, she further explains, "Needing a distraction from her troubled past....  This is good candy!"  She high-fives herself then continues, "Catherine follows orders only to find she has stepped right into it."  And it is that it that is the melodrama of the story.

"There is something very wrong in the Morgan household, and a part of that wrongness quickly becomes the mutual and growing attraction between Catherine and Stephen.  Starry-eyed and mushy?"  Using his shillelagh, he fences with the philodendron.   Houseplant wins.  "She knows he hadn't killed Emily, she knows he loves his daughter, she also knows their futures are doomed if she doesn't uncover the real murderer."  Mystery multiplied by tension.

Tattle thumbs cyber pages to get to the end, Wrye restrains her by holding out an Irish potato candy, which she follows right into the leap zone.  They leave a wake of clover.

Tattle lands in a wheelchair, brake is off, she goes spinning down an incline, hits a rock and tumbles off.  "Whew!" she expels, as she returns the chair to where she found it, brake set.  "Now that's a ride."

"And for those who like romantic suspense rides, they must read MORTAL COIL by Julie Eberhart Painter." 

Being playful, Tattle notes, "St. Patrick drove all of the snakes out of Ireland because he could not afford the bus fare."  Tattle hops over a few characters, ignores the opening paragraph anticipating and plops directly into the plot.  "Murder!" Pauses, "Bless their souls," and then more forcefully, "Conflict!  Danger!  Love!"

"More!  More!  More!"  Wrye begins to juggle four blarney stones.  "Aye, m'lass, two murders, both of them in Ellen Lange's nursing home."  At this point, the Sherlockean in him draws his notebook and he starts collecting clues.

Tattle narrows her gaze and plucks a rubber knife out from the welt of her thigh highs, believing she now looks dangerous, but the word Disney steals that possibility.  "I see, Special Investigator Bill Watts, the same Bill Watts that gives moi the hots, oops, can't go there, had been called in to investigate.  That man steals my breath."  She hyperventilates, gains composure and continues, "These murders are the same as others, known as the Ponytail Crimes."  Tattle disentangles her ponytail holder envisioning safe haven.   

Wrye is courtly enough not to tell her she looks odd with a floppy knife and her hair the pride of punk.  Instead he informs, "As the investigation proceeds, Ellen's daughter, Patti, good Irish name, takes a liking to Bill and vice-versa.  A contest of good guy vs. momma knows best.  At first, Ellen, a widow, wants to protect  Patti with no intrusions from the once divorced Bill.  I bet she likes him.  Trysty potential?  However, as the investigation progresses, Ellen's defenses fall, way to go Bill, and she becomes enamored, way to go Ellen, which delights her young daughter, yea everybody."

Tattle mistakes her own discarded ponytail holder for a rat, previously displaced glasses on forehead, and using moves that would pride Rambo, she plummets it with her rubber blade and continues breathlessly, "Yet, unsolved murders remain a foil to happiness, for suddenly Ellen is gone and in the hands of a vengeful murderer who wants Patti!"  Yowlza! 

"Are you Patti-whacked?"  Wrye gives her the side-eye stare.

"No blarney kissin' for me."

"Well, what happens?  This is so great, I gotta know."

"Read and see!" 

They leap.

Wrye finds himself eye to eye with a rolling tumbleweed, home of Jane Toombs's historical romance, ONCE AN OUTCAST, part of the Orphan Train Series.  He shouts oxymoronically, "Yeehaw, spread out a bunch!"  He shoves at the tumbleweed.  He jumps up as if the weed was about to attack him and looks around at the camp site.  In the not so far distance a train whistles, low and soulfully.  "Gorgeous," he says in a half whisper, dressed with awe as he absorbs the night sky.

"She is, isn't she," agrees Tattle, speaking of the lovely half-gypsy Jehenna Scovia.  Tattle dances as if tapping an air tambourine, flipping skirt in a taunting manner.

Knowing he meant the stars, he chose to agree, "Ah, the lass herself, that she is indeed.  Unbeknownst to the father, the poor thing was thrown onto the orphan train by a man employed by her father."  Creep!

Pain grips Tattle, thinking of being so forsaken.  "But for Jehenna that was freedom, no more abuse, no more neglect, no more being trapped in a room with her stepmother playing the hymn, "Drink To Me Only With Thine Eyes."  The pain turns to a rip of anger, knowing that the young are meant to be adored.

"Over time, freedom proves to be a hard course for such a young gal, and that freedom could be short, for Jehenna's father hires Nathan Cole to find her."  Angst bubbles with thoughts of returning to a tormented home.  Was this father well intended?  Confused?

"After a while, Nathan does find her.  But she continually manages to escape him."

"Cat and mouse?"

"Seems so.  But why?"

"And each time they meet, something hot and sizzling transpires.  Is that why?  Both are aware they cannot surrender to passion.  Torment!  It would complicate the complicated.  For she was his job, his duty.  And she didn't want to go home."  What were they to do?

"Finally, Nathan offers a solution.  To leave with him, not to go back to her father, but just to be with him.  The nobility of the man seems apparent, or does it?"

"So many had lied to her before, dare she trust him?  Tears claw at my sensibilities."

"Will she?"

Tattle responds with.  "I smell ham and cabbage burnnnning!  Left it on the stove," and off they leap.

Hope you enjoyed!  Next month we'll be bunny hopping from FLAWLESS by Kimber Chin, to FLAHERTY'S CROSSING by Kaylin McFarren, to HEATED DREAMS by Julie Grissom, our first Love of Literature Leap from Carnal Passions.   


Happy St. Patrick's Day to all who turn green! 

Dona Penza Rutabaga Tattle, Esq.
and Associate Wrye Balderdash
of Blather City, Wannachat

Created and written by
Angelica Hart and Zi
KILLER DOLLS ~ September 2009
Cover KillerDolls
SNAKE DANCE ~ February 2010
CHASING GRAVITAS (working title) ~ July 2010
Champagne Books

Tattle and Wrye can also be found at

Friday, March 5, 2010

DANCE? By: Angelica Hart and Zi


By: Angelica Hart and Zi

Come, join us as we slip into a small moment of fantasy.

There in the frost of offensive silence, he crossed the room stopping, his keen blue beige eyes instantly thawed that chill. She saw in his broad shoulders a champion, in the cut of his shirt a man of style, and from the tint of the musk of his cologne a man who must have haunted the dreams of so many women. He extended a powerful hand toward her, a hand that bespoke hard work, yet was groomed.


His voice was deep and rich. That simple query managed to release rushes she hadn't felt for so long. It was 1981, when Peter asked her to prom. She had not expected it, wanted it, but felt he should have asked another. Tonight, like that day she hesitated. This man much like Peter confidently waited for her reply. Eventually, her reply was the same as in 1981. "No!"

Back in high school Peter walked away. This night, this man, lifted the left corner of his mouth creating a charming half-grin, and choose not to retreat. "Let's dance."

He bent at the waist, leaned forward, lifted her from her wheelchair, carried her to the floor, and there they spun and swayed, she held safe in his arms. Found herself easily lost in his massive chest, blanketed by his musk, dreaming of him, and washed in his gentle hum, it the guttural groan of a primal urges. The room's din with the band playing, once uncomfortably loud, became insignificant, and in that moment all was marked, meaningful and telling.

Joyce's friends watched and one became teary. They understood just how beautiful she was. They at the time in their lives where mating and pairing was a priority, and hoped for her. None felt she was at risk of being hurt. They knew this man. Knew his heart. Back in high school Peter was a boy, the wheelchair seemed daunting, but today Peter was a man and could not walk again from the girl who warmed his soul.

We try to touch emotions. We hope we do.

We'd love to hear from anyone interested in what we do. Anyone who writes us at and leaves an s-mail address, we will send you a gift and add you to any future mailings.

Angelica Hart and Zi

KILLER DOLLS ~ September 2009

SNAKE DANCE ~ February 2010


KILLER DOLLS and SNAKE DANCE can be purchased at

Champagne Books