Lilli Feisty

My Top Ten Books!

Lilli — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 21:36:26 +0000

I wrote an article listing my current favorite erotic novels. You can read about here on the Hachette Book Group’s website! What are yours?

So how’s everybody dooooin? And my purple life in pictures.

Lilli — Wed, 07 Dec 2011 21:29:05 +0000

Sorry, that’s my kid’s new favorite phrase. And he says it with a lisp. But I’m not judging. Would you? Just look at that attitude!

Anyway, I went away to the ends of the earth for Thanksgiving and we had NO internet for SIX days. Then I came home and we had no internet for another WEEK because one of my housemates moved on the first and it took AT&T that long to get us hooked up. In fact, the AT&T box just came yesterday. Thankfully I live with two awesome chicks who work for Apple and got us hooked up last weekend. So I’m getting caught up.

So I was with a boy. We ordered sandwiches and they came like this. I thought it was sweet. I took a picture. Come one, that’s pretty cute! And totally worth the $8.00. They were delicious.

So let’s see. What else have I been up to?

My girlfriends (who are not, despite what everyone thinks, my actual girlfriends) and I were doing facials one night and ended up making Movember mustaches.

We made a pot rack with pegboard my friends (my non-girlfriends) found at home depot for fifty cents. Now, I have been wanting a pot rack like this for about fifteen years. It’s based on picture I saw a long time ago. I believe it was a photograph of Julia Child’s kitchen

I drank mimosas and had a dog party last Sunday.

Then I ate Tofurkey for the first time. It was delicious!

I painted my room yellow and hung this sign that magically appeared at my house after Burning Man last year.

Somehow a torpedo landed in my yard and I’m determined to make it into a Christmas tree. I just need the army to come and move it because it’s damn heavy.

I framed a picture of a condom wrapper. No, I didn’t take the picture. At Burning Man last year I was with a boy, and we found a library. It was lovely and relaxing. The people who had set up the library took pictures in their garden brought the photos for people to take and use as bookmarks. And of course, they gave out books. I chose a copy of Emma and this picture. I like it. It’s framed now.

And of course, my life would never be complete if I hadn’t busted by car. I still don’t know exactly what happened. Here are some of the parts I picked up off the street.

Don’t ask me. I don’t know.

Last night we made fondue for my friend’s birthday. It was also delicious!

We also drank some delicious vodka drinks.

Which may or may not have led to an hour or so of dancing in my living room to Prince. This morning I opened up iTunes and the last search was Pussy. As in in Pussy Galore, a song by Prince. Hey, we like Prince. We eventually found this video which is still making me LMFAO.

If that doesn’t make you laugh, well, you just got no soul.

Oh, guess what? I’m going to London for my birthday and Christmas. I leave on Monday. Do you think I’m even close to ready? Ha hahahahahaha. That’s a funny thought. I don’t even have my passport changed into my post-divorced name. I could start getting ready now… Or I could just watch this video a few more times!

Tomorrow I announce contest winners. Cheers!

Five things Go! (also win free books and a pair of feather earrings!)

Lilli — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 17:20:31 +0000

Book release Day!

That’s my friend Marc. This picture really has nothing to day with Book Release Day, but we look really happy. Or drunk. Probably both. I love Marc!

So I LOVE book release day! Today my third book for Grand Central Publishing, Deliciously Sinful, is available for purchase from all major book retailers. Just in time for the holidays! While I would absolutely love for you to go buy the book (and I’m pretty sure my publisher would too), I’m gonna have a contest and give away FIVE free books! That’s right, FIVE books. Of Deliciously Sinful. All signed! One lucky winner is also going to win ONE GORGEOUS pair of feather earrings from the fabulous Anada Designs!

Honestly, I have like four pairs of feather earrings from her an they are beautiful! If anyone wants to give me some more for Christmas, well. I’d be really happy.

Look at how pretty they are! (She’s pretty hot, too). Meow!

That’s just us being silly.

Happy!

So the contest. It’s EASY! Just ask The Voice In My Head. You, the reader and contest enterer, have to tell me five things you love about the holidays. Don’t give it too much thought, just give me the first five things that pop into your head. It’s easy. See The Voice Inside My Head asked me to answer so I did. Take a gander:

Lilli Feisty, what are your favorite things about the holidays?

1) I hate holiday music.
–The voice in my head, hereto referred to as TVIMH: That doesn’t count. That just makes you a curmudgeon.
–Me: I don’t care. I was in old Navy the other day and I heard that song about the weather outside being frightful, and I wanted to start ripping apart sweaters. And the weather outside was NOT frightful. It was lovely because it was SEPTEMBER!

TVIMH: Okay (you crazy woman): What’s next?

2) I LOVE Cake!
–TVIMH: That’s not cake, it’s a cow.
–Me: No, it’s a band!

–TVIMH What does that have to do with the holidays?
Me: –It’s the holidays?
–TVIMH: OMFG! Next!

3) I like presents!
–TVIMH: Good. Now we’re on a roll. Give me two more!

4) Like, OMG! I lurve waking up next to my book on book release day!! Okay, I like totally admit sometimes I sleep with my books and I just took that sexy self-picture.

TVIMH–That’s nice…but there’s a reason people don’t take self-portraits first thing in the morning. Have you seen yourself in the morning?

Me: Pie!!

TVIMH: Huh?
5) Pie, I like pie on Thanksgiving!

TVIMH: Maybe a little too much…? I mean, your skirt was looking a little tight the other day. I’m just sayin’.

Oh, I like totally remember why I never listen to TVIMH!!

Anyways, there you have it. My top five holiday thing-a-roos. On my next blog I’m going to recount about last weekend when my car broke down, in the toll booth, crossing the Bay Bridge going into san Francisco. During peak traffic hours. Because my car and I have a special relationship. See below.

Actually, I really do love the holidays. Especially in Half Moon Bay during September and October, where the weather is NOT frightful, where I just took this shot of myself.

Hey, anyone know how that shot ties into my first book, Bound to Please, which was *cough cough* nominated for a Romantic Times Book Award? If you do you get bonus points!

Bonus points for what, you ask?

Oh right. IT’S CONTEST TIME! I used all caps on purpose.

All you have to do is list your favorite five things about the holidays. I’ll pick one or two or whatever and send you a signed copy of Deliciously Sinful.

Okay.

Ready. Set. Go!

Interview and Giveaway!

Lilli — Mon, 07 Nov 2011 19:36:46 +0000

I’m Turning Up the Heat over at“My Book Addiction and More!” Go Check it out!

Battery Life.

Lilli — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 22:10:29 +0000

Cars hate me. I spent all of last year of trying to keep my 1979 Mercedes alive. This required plugging it in every night and jump-starting it about every day. Bessie finally kicked the bucket.

Now I have a 1990 4Runner.

This is my friend Will.

Here is Will welding the exhaust back onto my car after I ruined my catalytic converter while using my car how God intended me to: running over things, getting stuck in the mud and jumping over hills on the Playa.

Will is my friend Melissa’s very handy boyfriend. One day I would like a handy boyfriend who can fix things, too. Melissa’s pretty handy herself. In fact, she is the photographer who took that shot of me up top there. This is us at the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival in San Francisco.

I hardly saw the festival because I got distracted at a booty mashup party and ended up sleeping in the East Bay and I didn’t make back to the SF until 4:00 the next afternoon. Don’t ask.

Anyway, I love this car, but something (I suspect the stereo) is draining the battery, which is fine. I just undo the battery if it’s going to sit for any length of time, which it often does because I basically use that car to pick up my kid on the weekends, go camping, and take it to the Black Rock Desert.

It’s also good for when I need Vodka and it’s snowing.

So the alternator went out. I had it towed to the shop. It wasn’t cheap. I picked up the car yesterday and drove it home. Easy-peasy, right? Well, this ME and since it’s ME my car wouldn’t start.

I didn’t need an expert to tell me the battery was dead. I have a PhD in diagnosing battery-related problems. Still, WTF? I JUST picked up the car yesterday. So I called the shop and they came out and tested the battery and told me it was dead. Thank you very much, Sir. The alternator killed it, he said. The guy at the shop actually told me the battery might die soon. But I really wasn’t expecting that to happen in 24 hours.

Right. This is ME. Batteries hate me.

So now I need to replace the stinkin’ battery. It shouldn’t be a problem, it should be under warranty. I mean, after all, this is the third one I’ve bought in four months.

Oh, happy Dia Day Los Muertos. And happy birthday, mommy. I miss you.

Fall.

Lilli — Wed, 12 Oct 2011 04:32:14 +0000

People always think about January as a fresh start, a time for new beginnings. I’ve always felt like that during fall. I think it’s because, to me, fall is the time where things really change. The leaves, the temperature, maybe a new semester. Or maybe it’s because my birthday is December 21st, the first day of winter. Every day the sun sets earlier, the air gets chillier and the holidays loom. I look forward to my birthday and what the new year brings. I love Thanksgiving. I love the first snow.

So now I have a new and improve website, a book release on November 22nd, and more in the works. I have my office set up. I have ideas. I want to write. To be honest that hasn’t happened in awhile.

I had a crazy busy summer. I worked hard, I helped build large scale art projects, I spent 16 days in the desert at Burning Man, I became part of an emerging art scene right here in Reno, I bonded with friends, I watched my son enter first grade, I struggled, I danced, I met new people and created deeper bonds with friends I already know, I was feisty, I bought a trailer and took it to the desert twice, I hung Christmas lights in June, I had picnics with my friends, I cried and decided I was going to be single forever, I worked on my life. I collected 75 pictures of people holding fish for a Bait Shop in the desert, I wrote poetry, I worked, I lived.

Now I’m digging out my sweaters, rebooting and getting ready for winter. But right now it’s fall, my favorite time of year.

New site!

Lilli — Wed, 12 Oct 2011 00:29:02 +0000

I’m so happy with my new and improved site by the wonderful Come in, take take a look and get ready for lots of exciting new things, including my upcoming release from Grand Central Publishing,

Romance Junkies Review!

Lilli — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 22:54:46 +0000

I have a Blue Ribbon review for Dare to Surrender over at Romance Junkies!

Here’s bit of awesomeness:

Lilli Feisty has written DARE TO SURRENDER with just the right touch of BDSM and romance. The sexual tension between Joy and Ash is off the charts! Their passion, pleasure, and potent love scenes are simply beautiful. Surrender to this wonderful novel, I dare you!

It was a dark and stormy night and there were virgins.

Lilli — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 19:08:18 +0000

So, when you write erotic romance people (usually guys) think you’re dying to read their little fantasies. I’m sorry, but I do this for a living and I really don’t care to read your ill-written portrayal of the schoolgirl who showed up at your door and just needed to be spanked.

So when this guy Jo Bob sent me this, I was like, for the love of God. Why? But then I started reading it and I have to say it’s one of the funniest things I’ve read in a long time. Jo Bob gave me permission to repost it here. Also, it has the word clusterfuck in it, which happens to be one of my favorite expletives. Enjoy. I did.

Warning: X-rated story involving, well, a lot of dirty things.

On a dark and stormy night, there was this Sheik, who reigned over a rich and groovy sheikdom full of halfwit tea merchants, syphilitic berbers, and sloe-eyed ravenhaired virgins. The virgins all had stupendous tits and mind-boggling asses.

This Sheik cat’s days were spent in throwing those who opposed his iron-fisted rule to a bunch of fiercely jingoistic crocodiles, and his nights were a sisyphean carousel of virgin-deflowering. He relished neither. He didn’t get off on throwing rebels to giant lizards, and he was sick and fucking tired of this deflowering bullshit—the virgins mostly didn’t like it, and he sure as fuck didn’t. As everybody knows, virgins don’t know how to do anything. Anywhow, dude was having a major mid-life crisis.

“What to do? . . . What to do?” he asked himself, stewing in a miasmic angst-ridden clusterfuck of weltschmerz. He decided to disguise himself as a commoner and hit a bar, and so he did.

The bar he hit was a karaoke joint, tacky even by sheikdom standards; it was crammed to the rafters with greasy, newport-smoking motherfuckers in shiny suits. A lot of gold chains and sapphire tonics, that sorta place.

Our hero snagged a corner table and started drinking, and hard. He downed three irish carbombs whilst a rug salesman belted out “a Boy named Sue.” He pounded a pitcher of sierra nevada during an interpretation of “Xanadu.” He polished off a jug of sangria as a really hairy policeman shrieked “Pour Some Sugar on Me.” He was just going to close out his tab and throw himself to his own crocodiles when SHE walked in.

Her hair was dyed. She had on too much makeup. Her shoes were cheap, and her dress was too tight. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she had a cigarette in her mouth. Her posture was poor, and her ass was sort of fat. Somebody made a suggestive remark, and she told him off in a concise outburst of four-letter words.

The Sheik’s heart skipped a beat. It skipped another. It kept skipping. Soemthing moved in his pants.

She strode through the karaoke bar like a drunken slut, which, basically, she was. Her buttocks moved under her dress like two english bulldogs fighting in a sleeping bag. She bellied through the haze of menthol smoke and spinning disco lights up to the bar and yelled for a double bourbon.

The Sheik’s jaw dropped and his cock tingled. He had to have her.

He loosened the Brioni tie of his commoner’s outfit and hesitantly approached her.

Long story short, it went swimmingly: they had a few drinks together, karaoked.
The Sheik sang “La Isla Bonita,” she did “Straight Outta Compton.” They shared a cigarette, felt each other up in a toilet stall, and took a cab to a hotel.

They fell into the room, tearing each other’s clothes off. Of a sudden, she was fellating him with the singleminded determination of a salmon fighting upstream to spawn. Sucking sounds filled the air, not unlike the sound of somebody running barefoot across a stretch of very sticky mud at low tide. The Sheik moaned like a man having a root canal with no novocain, and his face contorted like something by Francis Bacon. She asked him if he liked it, and he emitted a sound like an emu being strangled, and sprayed her with coconut milk. He collapsed on the rug like the Capitoline Dying Gaul, his cock jumping and sizzling like a downed power line. He gasped for air and decided to ask for this girl’s phone number. But the night was far from over—this chick wasn’t one of his fearful virgins. She yanked on it like she was trying to start a lawnmower. Before he knew what hit him, she threw him into the exotic position known as the “69.” He’d seen it on the internet once. She mashed her oyster into his face and yanked on his balls. She purred like a cat; he bellowed like a bison. He dove for her pearl like a pacific islander; she waxed his zucchini. He played her pussy like an inbred on a banjo; She baked and buttered his baguette. He went into the bush like an intrepid anthropologist looking for a lost tribe of pygmies; she yelled like an irate drill segeant. He polished her linoleum; she washed his weimaraner. He spanked her wombat; she sauteed his mushroom. Suddenly her uterus did a backflip, and she gushed in his face. He crawled to higher ground, drenched and sputtering like a tsunami refugee. He wondered if she had skype.

Next he knew, they were just plain-old-fashioned fucking. He rode her bucking body like a bewildered rodeo cowboy. She put her legs into positions he’d only seen at Cirque du Soleil, and said bad words. He drilled for oil like a Texan, squeezing and smacking her left breast like a knowledgeable shopper testing a cantaloupe. She rammed a finger up his ass; he sucked the henna off her feet. She said some more bad words. They threw each other around like UFC fighters. They broke the kitchen table. They were fucking each other senseless . . . it sounded like a family of wine-growers stomping grapes in a tub, and smelled like grilled salmon and delirium. She cussed him like a sailor and came like an avalanche; he was coming too, he saw stars.

He passed out; she slapped him awake. It wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

Maxine! Come out and play.

Lilli — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 22:18:10 +0000

After a scary mishap with Microsoft Word closing and causing me to lose half my document two hours before my deadline, I am ready for a drink. I believe I can recover the rest, so I think it’s all good. Meanwhile, It’s been a long, stressful yet eventful week and I am ready for this weekend! It’s 5PM EST. That is definitely cocktail hour here. Right? So, Maxine, get over here. I am in need of your handbasket.

Meanwhile, I just got a text from Maxine:

Omfg..this guy is driving downt he street blaring..my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard. Lmfao.

This is definitely a good indication of how the night will begin.