The Fantastical LaVerne Thompson!

By LaVerne Thompson

Anyone else out there going through this? Both my teenage daughters are preparing for Homecoming. This is so not fun for me. LOL! Four hours in one mall one Saturday, two hours on Sunday. Two sets of dresses, two sets of shoes and accessories, all concerned can agree on. Scheduling manicures, pedicures and hair. Then come the plans for the evening. Since they are in two different classes with different friends they’re attending with two different groups of kids. One’s getting dressed at a friend’s house with her friends the other is getting dressed at home. So I’ll only get to see the end result, after all the work putting the outfit together, for one of my girls. I shudder to think what proms going to be like next year because they’ll both be able to go. *Groan* The sound of my wallet shrinking.

And to think I wanted twins, they’re nineteen months apart. So be careful what you ask for. It’s both good and bad they’re so close in age. They go through the same stages back to back so I get over it all pretty quickly but they also go off to college one right after the other. Well maybe Homecoming is kinda fun after all.

But such is my life. So is it any wonder I write romance novels with stories I can control. Cause let me tell you it’s the only world I have any control over and even then my characters have a say.

My name is LaVerne Thompson I write contemporary, fantasy and sci/fi sensual romances. I also have an alter ego Ursula Sinclair, she likes to write too but her work tends to be well more complicated. If you want to take a look at some of the worlds I’ve created visit my website or meanwhile enjoy the excerpt of my latest release LIVING ON THE EDGE a paranormal romance with bite.


The place was dark but he didn’t need to turn on any lights, he saw quite well in the dark. He found the fake flooring in the bedroom, pried it up and unlocked the safe. It was her birth date, she used that for everything. A sound, too low for normal senses to hear but not for his, and not part of the night had him jerking his head in the direction of the front door. He couldn’t see the door from the bedroom, but he had to hurry someone was walking around the pool area. Sticking his hand into the chamber he felt the outline of a slender book. He grabbed it and shut the safe, replacing the flooring. A different sound, closer this time, like someone was trying to get into the pool house through the front door. He stood up and made his way back to the front room, glad now he’d had the forethought to change the door code so no one else could come in behind him. Staying in the shadows of the room, he moved over to the blinds and peered around the edge to look outside. It was none other than Richard. The light beside him perfectly illuminated the pissed expression on his face because he couldn’t open the door.
It took all the self-control Ethan could call upon not to open the door and beat the shit out of Richard. Get him to confess that he was the one who had been having an affair with Sharon and killed her. As satisfying as that seemed, Ethan knew it wouldn’t work. Without proof a confession from Richard to him would be meaningless. Even if they had been having an affair that still wasn’t quite enough to shine the light on Richard. Unless Richard was there for the same reason he was. Ethan glanced down at the red velvet journal he held in his hand. This was what Richard came here for. Richard knew just as well as he did Sharon kept a journal, and since the police didn’t have it, it was still somewhere on the grounds. Now if Ethan were lucky it would contain the proof he’d been seeking.
Richard kicked the door and headed back toward the house. Ethan heard him open the patio doors closing them behind him, but Ethan stayed where he was. Richard was still in the house and might be able to see the pool area. But he couldn’t stay in the pool house long, it was too dangerous. He moved into the sitting area toward the back of the house where there was a large window facing away from the main house. The curtains in there were pulled back, but he could see nothing but trees beyond the dark expanse of lawn. He’d be in an open area a little but the land slanted downhill and if he kept low and in the shadows he should be able to make it back into the woods. He’d hidden his motorcycle there so it wouldn’t be spotted from the road.
In order to get out he’d have to turn off the alarm, so he went back to the front room and did that. Time was getting away from him, the longer he stayed the greater the risk Richard would return and decide to just break in. He could be right now calling the security company. Since Ethan’s arrest, Richard now had access to lots of information. Ethan opened the window and climbed out into the bushes flanking the area. Keeping his body hunched over, he stayed in the shadows and between the trees until he made his way back to his bike. As soon as he reached it he stored the journal in his saddlebag hanging off the back, but survival instincts had him whipping his head around. He wasn’t alone.
A woman stepped from behind a large tree. He didn’t recognize her scent, and even with his night vision, he couldn’t see her features clearly but her silhouette showed her to be tall and willowy. It took him a moment more to realize she also held a dark shiny object in her hand and it was pointed in his direction. Even though it was in shadow he recognized the shape. A gun. She had a gun.
He held his hands palms up and at his sides. “Ah, sorry if I’m trespassing,” he said thinking she might have been a neighbor. “I just had to take a quick bathroom run into the woods I’m leaving.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
Her voice was soft, sexy. Not the kind of voice you’d expect to find coming from a woman holding a gun, but then again he’d never expected a lot of the things that had been happening to him lately.
“Look, I don’t want any trouble.” He moved to climb onto the bike. She moved closer to him planting herself directly in the only clear path for the bike to get out onto the road.
“Sorry, Ethan Graves, but you’re a wanted man, and I’m here to take you back into custody.”
“What the hell?” he said, not understanding entirely what she was saying. The clouds parted just as she stepped out of the shadows and he could see her features clearer now. A sliver of moonlight bathed her body. She had brown skin, like chocolate melted in warm milk, a heart shaped face, and high cheekbones accenting a plump bow of a cherry mouth, and a feminine body built like a dancer. Broad shoulders, tiny waist, and long legs. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail the end rested across one shoulder ending just above her breast. In another life he would have wanted her name and number, but that was a long time ago.


The Wonderful Kristy Denise Bock – Literary Goddess!

The Divine Series by Kristy Denice Bock
Which Goddess are You?

Every woman is a little bit Goddess – but the real question is which Goddess are you?
1. Buy her a new pair. She didn’t mean it after all.
2. Forgive her, and use it as an excuse to buy a new pair for you.
3. Torch her favorite little black dress, then take her out to lunch. You are even after all.
4. Plan to make her life miserable but feel remorse over your plans.
5. Torture her endlessly until you’ve gotten your pound of flesh.
6. Blow up the town she lives in.

If a guy suddenly cancels a date on short notice you…?
1. Accept his words, he’d never lie to you about something like that.
2. Forgive him, and call up your #2 on your speed dial.
3. Drive to where he is, make a scene, then pay the tab and tell him you’ll call him next week.
4. Tell him what a schmuck he is, then call later that evening and express your guilt.
5. Drive to where he is, attack him and anyone who dares to defend him.
6. Blow up the city he’s located in.

If your favorite gold fish winds up floating belly up in the bowl, you?
1. Do everything in your power to bring it back to life.
2. Know that it’s little body will complete the circle of life.
3. Cry for a moment, then go buy a new goldfish and reuse the name.
4. Give it a porcelain burial and moan about the unfairness of it all.
5. Scream at its corpse and rage. Threaten every other living creature near you.
6. Drop some grenades in the lake and kill off the rest of the species.

Your boss makes you work overtime so she can go to a concert you’ve been dying to go to, you?
1. Figure can always go next time. She deserves a night out.
2. Work harder so you can have her job by that time next year.
3. Work the overtime, and send a virus to her computer.
4. Mope and whine about not going, and think of ways to get back at her.
5. Get her fired. She deserves it!
6. Wait until she’s at the concert and blow up her and everyone in it. Why should they be happy?

Mostly 1’s
You are Jaebo!! The Goddess of Light, Love and all things Good!!
Jaebo likes for everyone, and everything to be happy in her world. She will give you the shirt off her back, and forgive any transgression.
Mostly 2’s
You are Tatiana!! The Goddess of Elements!!
Tatianna isn’t perfect, but she strives to lead an exemplary life. Her ability to forgive is astounding, but she knows how to get her digs in now and again.
Mostly 3’s
You are Noxia!! The Supreme Ruler of the Universe!! Goddess of Balance!!
Noxia will cause just as many problems as she resolves. She’ll use everyone around her for the betterment of mankind and her Goddess sisters.
Mostly 4’s
You are Edereu!! The Goddess of Death!!
Edereu thinks she should be the supreme ruler and covets everything Noxia has. She makes the life of everyone around her miserable with her selfish and petty ways, but she does have a good side… somewhere.
Mostly 5’s
You are Killana!! The Goddess of Chaos and Strife!!
Killana has no boundaries or social skills. She’ll do everything and anything that sounds good at the time no matter who it disrupts. Actually… she hopes it disrupts everyone.
Mostly 6’s
You are Ulma!! The Goddess of Destruction!!
Ulma hates all humans and hopes they all die in a blaze fit for her to roast her marshmallows on.

The Divine Series
Book 1 – Divine Touch
Buy From Amazon Buy Direct from Publisher
Book 2 – Divine Intervention
Buy From AmazonBuy Direct from Publisher

One Answer to Request For a Donation

Years ago my husband and I were bombarded by businesses asking for donations and well, he decided to respond to one in the most unusual manner. Actually I thought it was funny and so I’m posting it for you to read. I was to the Humane Society and to be honest they had a sense of humor about it. In return we actually sent them a check. Here is the response to the letter sent by ‘Little Bit’, a shelter pet.

Dear Little Bit,

I was so glad to have received your letter but contrary to what you have heard my masters are very mean to me. They hardly feed me at all and the last time I was bathed I nearly drowned. At least the food you receive at the shelter is nutritionally balanced. I’m lucky if they throw an occasional dead rat in my bowl. Hey, that fixed up thing you mentioned you got after your accident, how can I get in on a deal like that? Two years ago I got mangled by a radiator fan I was sleeping on (imagine my surprise!!) my tail is still bent at right angles and every time I hear a car start up it throws me into a seizer.

It must be nice to have your human to talk to. Mine are rather stupid and only speak using one word and occasionally my name or a few other words. It goes like this, “blah, blah, blah, Rio, blah, blah, blah, you damn cat, blah, blah, blah.” As for walks, well, I guess you could say that I go on those frequently. My owner’s son keeps shoving me into the hamster wheel. I don’t fit well but I do so enjoy the snacks and am very glad they replenish so quickly.

I have heard of a new form of travel from the dog thing that lives here but I am not quite sure if its for me. Do you know what a frequent flyer mile is?

Hey bud, enclosed is a few dollars. Maybe you could buy a new master. It’s too late for me. I’m doomed!! But take my advise, you have it good where you are at. You are lucky that they won’t let you out. It’s not easy on the outs. I am truly sorry that you are homeless but at least your life doesn’t suck as bad as mine.

Your friend,


P.S.: What is with the subliminal doggie thing on your stationery?? Your not a dog thing are you? I would hate to think my pen pal is a dog thing. Write back soon.

Release Date!

Just recieved my release date for book two of my trilogy, Behind the Throne. It’s October 14th so make sure you mark the date and order a copy! It’s availiable at Red Rose Publishing and soon at, FictionWise, BookStrand and All Romance.

Alone, pregnant and cranky, Morgan Crowe finds herself surrounded by enemies and with no one to trust when luck finds her on the doorstep of a friend long forgotten. Taken in by the daughter of a powerful King who would rather see her dead, Morgan relies on her instincts for survival and hopes she could live through the next few months in order to give birth, and then she would be up to her normal strength and skill.

As her rotten luck would have it an enemy has found itself in her safe haven and has taken revenge, by taking her only surviving friend and causing her to come face to face with her past. Court intrigue and danger rears its ugly head as the grip on her tightens, causing her to reach out for help and learn that to trust may not be as bad as she thought. Especially when that trust comes in the form a young Werewolf met once on a rainy night that seems so long ago.

But attractions are not that simple, especially when an old rival shows up and the heat between them flares. But Morgan has no time for macho games, especially when her friend’s life is in her grasp.

10 Things I Hate About You

I watched that movie the other day and as always I cried during the part when Julia Stiles’s character Kat read her poem in class, declaring why she hates Heath Ledger’s character Patrick. It reminded me so much why I hate love stories, hate the idea of romance and hate falling in love for it invites another person into your emotions and gives them the ability to see your vunerabilities. No body enjoys the idea of another person having that type of control over them, especially not me. Maybe that’s why it took so long before I admited to myself that I loved my husband.
You see my love story is a bit different. I grew up the oldest child in a military family. My family constantly moved so the idea of having life long friends was a vague notion. The longest I ever lived somewhere was four years, the shortest, one. If friends were hard to get close to imagine how it would be to have a boyfriend. Me being sensible, I skipped that process completely and avoided boys with a passion. As far as I was concerned boys were the numbnut idiots that teased me all throughout grade school and I wasn’t about to explore the world of first loves with them. Beat them up, was my chant and I was fairly good at putting the fear of me into them. (ask the High School jock who was dumb enough to ask me out while I was right in the middle of reading a good book)
Well, years passed and I’m finally on my own. At this point of my life I’ve had men (not boys) show interest in me and now I’m facing the aggressive nature of males on the prowl. Okay, so yes, they had nice packages on the outside but I wasn’t about to get to know the inside. I’d seen the talk shows and movies of the week. Men cheating on women, men beating on women, men being a general nusance in my book. I was so anti-male that I was nicknamed the Ice Bitch by some, Amazon by others. Once a guy took an attraction to me, once his eyes driffed down to my chest or him telling me how nice I looked (man speak for I want to see you naked) I lashed out at him with all the venom I had stored. I saw myself as the voice of a time…women unite and lets kick male butt!
Well, imagine my surprise when I met a man (a friend of a friend) who was known to be a woman-hater. Oh joy, for I found someone to bash heads against. He thought all women were bon bon eating, gaggling bitches. All high and snooty, worth nothing beyond their made-up faces and manicures (I, btw, was a tomboy. Couldn’t put me in a proper dress for nothing and my nails were bitten to the quick). Needless to say a war began, though on all accounts a friendly one. We each had to one up the other. I knew I was safe in my iron chasity belt and had the strength of my will behind me. He was one of those manipulators who found the weakness of the woman psyche and expolited it. Oh yes, this was too good to be true.
We became roommates and actually managed to commune without killing each other though we clashed over bathroom hygentics (I was the sloppy one, he the neat freak). Then one day a friend of mine asked me to move to another city with her and I jumped at it. Life was good at my new apartment with my new roommate. Life with the woman-hater was forgotten and I went on to terrorizing new men who stepped into my path. I was on a roll. Now twenty years old and I could look a stranger in the eye on a dark night and have him step aside to let me pass. But the strangest thing started happening. I started getting love poems in the mail from my woman-hating ex-roommate. Oh, why me?
At first it was annoying (my new roommate really didn’t like him very much) then it became funny but suddenly, after he started visiting me (one time after I hadn’t seen him for a while he showed up in shorts and a V neck looking OMG fine) I realized, hey…somethings wrong. Something was changing in me and I didn’t like it. It was scary and dangerous and oh so confusing. The more we visited each other, the more I started missing him when he was gone, until one day he told me on the phone he loved me and was going to somehow win my heart. I scoffed at that. I was going to be no man’s weak kneed chickidee. My job in life was to put men in their place, groveling in the mud they crawled out of. But inside, my belly started doing strange things, butterflies kept getting trapped there and my heart would race. This was wrong and the more my body reated to his presence the more I fought. After all, I’d seen the satistics and I refused to become one of them. So I put on my armor with the spikes and picked up my mace for a fight. Unfortunate for me, he had allies…my mom and grandma.
Argh! He spoke to them, conviencing them he was the perfect one for me and my mom, bless her heart, the traitor she is, helped him move to my new city in the quest for him to woo me. Yes, the woman-hater was actively pursuing moi. I flinched when I heard that and no matter how loud I complained or stomped my feet and refused to talk to him he was there.
Months passed and my will started breaking down. Though my mind was strong, my body was weak and needless to say, nature took its course. Every night when we went to bed he’d tell me he loved me, and every night I’d respond with ‘that’s nice’. Some of those nights he’d ask me to marry him but all I could think of doing was rolling over and pretend to not have heard him. Then D-day happened. My mom discovered I was sleeping with him. Being the old fashion woman she was (and looking back I can’t help but wonder if this was a set up) she arrived on the doorstep. Marry him or never see him again, that was her demand. I was conflicted. I didn’t want to be married, to be vunerable to a man. Let’s face it, sex is but sex when you don’t put your heart into it, but looking over at him I realized I didn’t want to never see him again. My insides stared acting funny again.
The shotgun was at my back. Be a good girl and listen to my mom or…ah, who was I kidding (even these days mom and dad still put a bit of fear in me, the fear of disapointing them). We set a wedding date right then and I could actually hear the jail door slam shut. I was trapped. I was numb. And I was scared. Everything thing else went by in a blur, I remember a bit of the wedding (very very small) and crying (whether in happiness or helplessness I don’t know) and I remember him telling me he loved me and me saying ‘that’s nice’. It wasn’t until almost a year later that I actually told him I loved him for the first time. Through out that he was always kind and patient with me, never demanding, never condisending. Slowly over time I’ve allowed myself to open up and give him a glimpse of my true self, of my fears and my hopes and you know what?
I know he loves me, that he’ll never betray me. That he will stick by me for better or for worse till death do us part. I took a chance and it was worth it. Although at times he makes me cry, even more he makes me laugh. That is while I hate love stories and why I can’t resist reading one.
This December we will have been married for twenty years.
Maggie Berkley
Books availiable at Red Rose Publishing:

A Guest Blog by the Lovely and Talented Franny Armstrong!

Meet Erin Bond…She B Jumpin’

When I took the assignment, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Sure, I saw Brandon Anderson in photos from his files, but they didn’t do him justice. He has this lop-sided grin that sets my heart pounding and makes me weak in the knees. Brandon could well be the brains behind the case I’ve been sent to investigate. He acted strange when I first saw him after spraining my ankle in a jump, the first skydiving accident I’ve ever had, thanks to the drugged up tandem jumper I placed my trust in.

At least having an injury gave me an ‘in’ with the skydiving crew that Brandon commands. The strangest thing was that when I tried to get…shall I say, ‘closer’, to Brandon, he ran like a jackrabbit from a wolf. Confused and not a little hurt by his reaction to my come on, I didn’t understand until he told me something I found difficult to believe. He told me that I was going to die…and so was he…

Extrasensory Elements Series Book 2-I B Jumpin’
by Franny Armstrong
Paranormal Romantic Suspense
Rated HOT
412 pages to purchase.

Does love truly come from heaven? Brandon Anderson sure thought so when the woman who’d haunted his dreams for years dropped from the sky and into his arms. As a professional skydiver, Brandon manages a drop zone where danger lurks and he must use his psychic abilities to protect not only his clients, but Erin Bond who is meant to be his life mate.

Undercover and loving the chance to get close to the enigmatic man, Erin’s job is to investigate Brandon as a potential leader in a drug ring. Soon, Erin becomes irresistibly attracted to Brandon. For the first time in her life, she must open her heart and allow herself to love. Fear of losing him is the only thing holding her back. Yet, his gift tells them she’s slated to die with a bullet in her back, with him following right behind.

Extrasensory Elements Series Book 2-I B Jumpin’ will have you on the edge of your seat as you discover the world of psychic abilities, love, and adventure that knows no bounds.


After they‘d eaten, Brandon left Erin alone for a while so he could attend to business. The final jumpers were done and everyone was packing up for the day. All the customers had left in high spirits. It had been a successful day, except for what had happened to Erin.

Ripper stood in the office leaning against the desk with his arms crossed in defiance. He stood close to six feet tall, wiry, and arrogant. His spiked, muddy brown hair and matching brown eyes mirrored his bad attitude.

Brandon wanted to deck the man so badly that his entire body was stiff with tension, fists clenched until his knuckles were white.

“You son of a bitch! I gave you fair warning the last time that if it happened again you would be out of here before you could blink. You‘re fired! Pack up your

things and get the hell out of the drop zone before I pick you up and throw you out.”Brandon‘s voice was low and harsh.

Staring back at Brandon through narrowed eyes, Ripper waited a moment before he spoke. The two men hadn‘t got along since the first time they‘d met and even less now.

“I don‘t know what the hell you‘re talking about. She only hurt her foot ’cause she‘s a newby. We landed just fine.”

The man‘s unfounded defiance only fueled Brandon‘s anger. He tried his best to keep his temper under control, and replied, “You know exactly what I‘m talking about. You were high on more than adrenaline today. You were stoned. I don‘t give a damn if you want to kill yourself, but the customers are our responsibility and you‘ve endangered them for the last time. Now get out!”

Although Brandon‘s voice was calm and in control, Ripper acted like he‘d physically attacked him and took a swing at Brandon. His expression turned to surprise when he found himself lying flat on his back, holding his jaw in his hand.As he shook his hand out to relieve the pain, Brandon stood ready for Ripper to attack again.

Instead, Ripper slowly climbed to his feet and surprised Brandon when he began to laugh.

“You have no idea what you just did, pal. Consider yourself a dead man.”

Ripper straightened his jacket and dusted his pants off. As though he knew he couldn‘t take Brandon, Ripper curled up his lip, his eyes narrowed again. “You‘d better remember this face, buddy, because you‘re definitely going to see it again.”

“Don‘t count on it. The only reason you are still standing here right now and not sitting in a jail cell under drug possession charges is that I‘m giving you the chance to run. Don‘t bother trying any of the other drop zones to look for a job. I‘m going to make sure you‘re banned for life from working on any of them.”

Prepared to fight if necessary, Brandon opened the door, keeping his gaze on Ripper while Frisker entered with another man.

“Make sure this piece of slime leaves the zone immediately.” Brandon moved away from the door. With his thumb, he pointed back over his shoulder. “Out!” he barked.

Though he grinned, Ripper shot Brandon a look filled with pure venom and left the room with a carefree swagger. Anderson will get his.

Confident, he promised himself that it would be soon. I’m going to make sure that I’m there to watch while my friends take care of Anderson, that’s for sure. He kept walking, climbed in his car and roared out of the driveway, leaving the two men dogging his steps choking on dust.

Suddenly sniffing, he rubbed his itchy nose, needing another hit. The last one was wearing off. Once he‘d taken care of that, he had plans to make.


For the next hour, Brandon called each of the parachuting clubs throughout Canada and the USA. Ripper would find that he was unwelcome at any professional association. Endangering customer‘s lives was taboo in the skydiver‘s circles and jumping while intoxicated or stoned was not tolerated This was the first time Brandon had seen the proof rather than hear it from another party.

He knew that there was a serious drug problem in the field and did his best to keep his group clear of it, but sometimes abusers slipped by him. After giving them the chance to make good and stay clean, it was unfortunate and very frustrating for Brandon when incidents like Erin‘s accident happened.

Diligent in making sure everyone followed the rules set by the associations his crew had an exceptional record for safety. Although he was considered a daredevil Brandon never took chances with his own life, or anyone else‘s. Safety came first above all else. He believed it was much safer to jump with his crew than it was to drive a car on the highway in Toronto. The odds were definitely in favor of the jumpers.

After he‘d closed and locked up the office, Brandon headed back to see how his guest was doing, excited about spending the rest of the day with her.

She fascinated him like no other woman had ever done. It was difficult to clear his mind of the anger he felt with Ripper, but he did his best. Although he usually stopped at the clubhouse for a beer with his crew, he found he was looking forward to spending the evening with his beautiful roommate.

He took her keys out of his pocket and searched for her car in the lot. She was going to have to stay for a few days, but luckily had brought a suitcase with her. Erin told him that she was from Toronto, but not much else about her personal life. When he said he would bunk with Frisker for the next few days, she wouldn‘t allow him to. She said she didn‘t mind sharing the trailer if he didn‘t. Who in their right mind would turn down the chance to spend a few nights with Erin?

Spotting her black Pontiac Grand Prix, he opened the trunk and pulled out her bag. The moment he touched the handle of the suitcase, he stopped cold in his tracks as a vision overcame him like a tidal wave. The world faded away as he became caught in the grip of the images that hit him hard.

Franny Armstrong-ParaNovelGirl
Extrasensory Elements Series Book 1-Author’s Demise
Book 2-I B Jumpin’
Tropical Balm
Forever Blowing Bubbles
Small Packages-A Christmas Story
7th Eye Private Investigations Book 1-The Mystic Touch COMING SEPT 30, 2010