If At Birth You Don’t Succeed

It is so easy for us to suffer from self-pity. We run into a stumbling block, and feel like it’s the end of all that matters.

I am one of those people. I can’t open a jar, I drop something, can’t find what I’m looking for… I ask, out loud, why does everything have to be so hard? Mainly, it’s just the stress talking. But really, life is fairly easy for me. Even though I suffer from chronic pain from back issues, I am able bodied.

Sometimes, I just need that gentle reminder.


I dragged my husband to Barnes & Noble and perused the store. When I saw this book, I had to pick it up. Turns out it was written by a comedian who was born with Cerebral Palsy (which he humorously refers to as the sexiest of all palsies.)

This guy turns every challenge into a funny story. From his short time with his own show he won in an Oprah contest, to literally shitting himself… it’s funny.

And he has such a great optimism in the face of what would probably destroy most. This book is wildly inspirational, yet amazingly entertaining. I can’t recommend this enough.

You can find the book at Amazon, B&N, and probably many other outlets.


Politics & Religion – I’m going there

Welcome to Anita's Den

There is an unspoken rule that authors should steer away from any discussion regarding religion or politics because it could offend potential fans. Well, okay, it’s not an unspoken rule, actually, there are a lot of advice blogs insisting on this advice.

But today, I’m going to break this rule. Because after holding in every opinion for years, it has to come out and today is the day I’m going to do it. I am prepared for the nasty comments, though there shouldn’t be any. I am a human with an opinion and why can’t I share my views too? Right? Well it doesn’t always work out that way.

See my real issue is with my fellow Americans. We are a diverse bunch and with the exception of pure blooded Native Americans, our heritage comes from every corner of the planet. (Yes, I know, it’s round. There are no corners.)…

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To Serial or Not to Serial

Over at my other page…I give some thoughts on serial writing.

Welcome to Anita's Den

Writing Serials

This topic has been discussed with me countless times in the last three months.  Today, I declared to my editor, “I refuse to publish serials.” There. I made a declaration.

Never say never…right?

Series v. Serial?

To make this easy, for those not well versed in literary lingo, I’ll drop this down to television viewing. I’ll even use my favorite show, The Blacklist.

Each week we get approximately 40 minute snippets of Elizabeth Keen and Raymond Reddington’s story. Each episode has a plot, an arc, and conflict resolution. However, there is a larger plot and arc, as well as a major conflict that we wait, not so patiently, to get the answer.

This is equivalent to a series. Now, let’s focus on a serial.

Imagine, you sit down to watch John Wick. You think you’re going to discover John Wick, what drives him, his conflict, and his resolution…

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Nemesis by JC Black


I love you. Three little words which made Chris Caldwell run as hard and as fast as he could from any woman. Love had nothing to do with his desires; he had plenty of women wanting to share his bed for a night of wild abandon. Until Isabella…
She turned his world upside-down with her sexy body and sultry smile. Chris originally thought to just make her the next of his conquests. Instead she turned him upside down and in love for the first time. She made him want the trappings of love and maybe even marriage. Something he has never desired in his life.
But as Chris goes to bring in yet another shipment for the drug lords, his family is betrayed. Will he make it home to his beautiful woman or will the Feds finally take him down in a fiery blaze?

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Just a taste of Nemesis...

Seeming to not take ‘no’ for an answer, she stepped into the shower. As I turned around to face her, she wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her hot smooth body against mine. She opened her mouth and covered mine with her tender red lips as her warm, wet tongue started dancing back and forth deep inside my mouth. Who did I think I was kidding? I can’t seem to help myself when this beautiful woman is involved. She had gone to such great lengths to deceive me just for the chance to have sex with me. I cupped her ass with one hand as I fondled her firm breasts with the other. My god, she’s so damn hot I can barely hold on to her. The shower stall was small and I pushed her against the wall, letting the hot water spray on my back. She put her hand behind my head to bring my mouth closer to hers. We groped each other like savage beasts; our lips remained in a passionate kiss which seemed like it could last forever. I swear, I’ve been with a few women, but never have I felt this animalistic desire to want to fuck another woman as much as I wanted her. I couldn’t wait another moment, needing to have her right now. So I picked her up, with our lips still locked in a passionate kiss, carrying her off to my bedroom. As I laid her wet body on my bed, she let go of me long enough for me to find the harden nipples of her breasts with my mouth. She started moaning as I sucked on each one and then buried my face between the soft mounds of her beautiful breasts, her hands pulling at my hair. I took hold of her hands and held them above her head as I ravished her body with kisses, biting my way up her neck and finally stopped on her succulent, sizzling, hot lips. She took my lower lip in her teeth and then sucked my tongue into to her mouth for a long passionate, wet kiss. “Oh god Chris, I want you inside of me. Please take me now!” she said, breathing heavily against my mouth. She lifted her knees and spread her legs to give me access. I thought about taking her right then and there; fucking her hard and fast, but the sight of her legs spread along with the beauty of that small patch of blonde hair fashioned in the shape of a heart, beckoned my tongue like a magnet to the soft moist lips protecting her womanhood. I buried my tongue deep inside until I found her sweet spot, and as I tortured her clit with my tongue, she grabbed me by my hair holding me tight against her.

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My Review of Nemesis...


The Nympho Series, Books 1 & 2


Christopher Caldwell grew up during a time of fast cars, hi-speed boats and beautiful women. Due to his experience in boats from working in a family own boatyard he quickly became popular with the local smugglers. It wasn’t long before the drug lords found a way to put his talents to work. When Christopher reached maturity he found that he had a strong sexual appetite. His first sexual experience was with a married woman that led him to have many meaningless sexual encounters without the comfort of love. That was until he met Megan and her sister Amber. Megan is a naïve and beautiful redhead who fell in love with Chris right away. Amber was just the opposite of her younger sister, she was gorgeous and had a sassy attitude to match. But, Christopher was confused by the two women, he wanted them both. He also had dreams and aspirations of becoming a lawyer. But before he could pursue his dreams he must first repay a favor from a notorious family friend and bury some deep dark family secrets of his involvement with the drug lords.

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Book Two and Chris is back, along with his love for beautiful women and his insatiable sexual appetite. Amber and Megan still can’t pin him down to just one of them and there are others trying to get his attention. He wants to go to school, learn a trade, and be successful but he soon finds out that he can’t outrun his secrets.
The crime family looks him up, leaning heavily on old relationships and Chris doesn’t want to see that debt hung on either his brother, Frank, or his brother, Tony. Chris agrees to fulfill this one job, with the assurance it will be the last. And can he walk away from Amber or Megan? He knows he can’t tell them the truth. He is torn with the knowledge this could keep him from ever finding a woman he could love, who could accept this part of him.

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A little something about Jc Black


J.C Black was born in Memphis, Tennessee and grew up in the Florida Keys. I grew up in the ship building trade and became an expert in my field at a young age and made me very popular in the boating industry. I grew up in a time that the local fisherman were losing their homes and boats so they turned to smuggling to make a living. A lot of the people were friends of mine before they chose a life of crime and remained my friends for many years after, until the law caught up with them and put them in prison. I’ve been writing on and off for the last couple of years, but writing romance came from my love of women. Yes, it was a good life with the coconut trees, the great sandy white beaches and of course the beautiful women. I still get inspiration from the beautiful women and the sunsets. I love taking long walks on the beach, riding my Harley and enjoying life. I loved growing up in the Florida Keys, it was like paradise. Beautiful sunsets to inspire my life and beautiful women to inspire my writing. I love fast cars and fast boats and sometimes I would enjoy a race or two. I loved the sea and would spend as much of my time as I could I out in the ocean fishing, but of course that was at a time you could come home with a cooler full of fish. I didn’t know what I wanted to do when I was younger, but I had the whole Caribbean to explore so it didn’t matter back then. If you ever find yourself down my way, I will be the guy leaning against a coconut tree on the beach, watching another beautiful sunset and if I happen to say “hi” don’t be shy.
~JC Black

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It’s okay, or it will be.

Full disclosure, this has absolutely nothing to do with books, writing etc.

As I may have mentioned before, I write not only as Kim Mullican, but also as Anita Cox. It seems I can manage one or the other, but maybe not both. Or maybe I can, but I’m not doing very well marketing my Kim Mullican novels.

Okay, this might have something to do with writing. I digress.

Courtesy of Stock Exchange

Courtesy of Stock Exchange

Have you ever had one of those days? You know, where Murphy’s Law seems to be targeting you with laser precision?

Today was beautiful. We finally reached 71 beautiful degrees, so I took a business call outside to enjoy the weather. Elderly neighbor hobbles across the lawn toward me to yell about kMart closing. Dutiful daughter speaks with him while I dart inside so as not to ruin my call. *goodbye sunshine*

After storyboarding, I decided it was time to go to the bank and do my weekly grocery shopping. While out, I decided I was thirsty and made the healthy decision to purchase a 44oz Diet Coke. The bubbly fountain goodness really hit the spot with the first sip. The second sip felt like cool heaven as it graced my tongue. Everything was okay.

So, I get home with a trunk full of groceries, about 43 oz of Diet Coke and my daughter, who dutifully helps me carry everything in. Upon unlocking the front door, the 250lb Mastiff busts through, excited that Mommy is home. He canes me in the ass with his 3 foot long tail. OUCH! With watery eyes, I carry in my purse and drink, placing them in the kitchen so I can go back out to start grabbing groceries. I received two more lashes from excited giant.

Once everything was inside, the dog finally calmed down. I thought…I thought it was safe to start putting things away. Reaching in a bag, I grab frozen goods and open the freezer door, which swings open a lot faster than I had intended, knocking 43oz of Bubbly Goodness to the floor. *Cry as I rush to grab dirty towels.*

Dutiful daughter mops up mess while I continue to put things away. I start emptying out leftovers into 250 lb dog’s bowl, which makes him happy. I dumped Bean Soup in his bowl before I realized what I did, which makes me very unhappy…because I know what’s to come.

Trash now stinks like old cauliflower which is a mixture of rotten milk and sour diapers. It’s wretched. I lift bag out of can and…you guessed it. I make another mess. So, I commence to cleaning said mess, put new bag in can and wash my hands.

Forgetting I turned up the hot water heater. OUCHY!

Make cellphone payment before I forget. Done. Feeling accomplished, I go back to story board, taking fresh can of diet coke outside. I take a sip while staring at story board (my front picture window…) and go to set down my diet coke.

giphy (5)

My nose stinging, I sling can across the yard and start an earth shaking temper tantrum, but I start laughing and cannot stop. (And I begin to wonder if I’m losing my mind.)

I surrender.

So, I make dinner, with a few interruptions and manage, while eating a burger, to squeeze grease all over my sweatshirt. (Take a deep breath and remember, you’re blessed. You actually have a cheeseburger, some don’t have that.)

Everyone goes to bed. Perhaps I can get some work done now. Husband warns me…his stomach isn’t feeling so well. I apologize then go on to work. 250 lb Mastiff now lets loose of the longest, loudest, most obnoxious fart I’ve ever heard. I evacuate the area to prevent brain damage.

When the air clears out, I sit down to work. Big boy went to go sleep with Dad. After an hour, I go to the bathroom and can literally hear spouse and dog in a heated duel of farts and snores.

Okay Murphy. You win. I’ll sleep on the couch.


The Perfect High

I’ve never been a huge fan of poetry. I couldn’t tell you why, it just never appealed to me.

But back in the 90s, a cool cat named Ron Barany recited this poem during his gigs at the coffee house where I worked. It was written by Dr. Seuss. I really love this. The moral is there, loud and clear and it’s quite entertaining. Enough out of me.

The Perfect High

There once was a boy named Gimme-Some-Roy

He was nothin’ like me or you,
’cause laying back and getting high was all he cared to do.

As a kid, he sat in the cellar…sniffing airplane glue. And then he smoked banana peels, when that was the thing to do. He tried aspirin in Coca-Cola, he breathed helium on the sly, and his life became an endless search to find the perfect high.

But grass just made him wanna lay back and eat chocolate-chip pizza all night,
and the great things he wrote when he was stoned looked like shit in the morning light.
Speed made him wanna rap all day, reds laid him too far back, Cocaine-Rose was sweet to his nose, but the price nearly broke his back.

He tried PCP, he tried THC, but they never quite did the trick. Poppers nearly blew his heart, mushrooms made him sick. Acid made him see the light, but he couldn’t remember it long. Hash was a little too weak, and smack was a lot too strong. Quaaludes made him stumble, booze just made him cry, Then he heard of a cat named Baba Fats who knew of the perfect high.

Now, Baba Fats was a hermit cat…lived high up in Nepal, High on a craggy mountain top, up a sheer and icy wall. “Well, hell!” says Roy, “I’m a healthy boy, and I’ll crawl or climb or fly,
Till I find that guru who’ll give me the clue as to what’s the perfect high.”

So out and off goes Gimme-Some-Roy, to the land that knows no time, Up a trail no man could conquer, to a cliff no man could climb. For fourteen years he climbed that cliff…back down again he’d slide . . .
He’d sit and cry, then climb some more, pursuing the perfect high.

Grinding his teeth, coughing blood, aching and shaking and weak, Starving and sore, bleeding and tore, he reaches the mountain peak. And his eyes blink red like a snow-blind wolf, and he snarls the snarl of a rat,
As there in repose, and wearing no clothes, sits the god-like Baba Fats.

“What’s happenin’, Fats?” says Roy with joy, “I’ve come to state my biz . . .
I hear you’re hip to the perfect trip… Please tell me what it is. “For you can see,” says Roy to he, “I’m about to die, So for my last ride, tell me, how can I achieve the perfect high?”

“Well, dog my cats!” says Baba Fats. “Another burned out soul, Who’s lookin’ for an alchemist to turn his trip to gold. It isn’t in a dealer’s stash, or on a druggist’s shelf… Son, if you would find the perfect high, find it in yourself.”

“Why, you jive mother-fucker!” says Roy, “I climbed through rain and sleet,
I froze three fingers off my hands, and four toes off my feet! I braved the lair of the polar bear, I’ve tasted the maggot’s kiss. Now, you tell me the high is in myself? What kinda shit is this?

My ears, before they froze off,” says Roy, “had heard all kindsa crap; But I didn’t climb for fourteen years to hear your sophomore rap. And I didn’t climb up here to hear that the high is on the natch, So you tell me where the real stuff is, or I’ll kill your guru ass!”

“Okay…okay,” says Baba Fats, “You’re forcin’ it outta me… There is a land beyond the sun that’s known as Zabolee. A wretched land of stone and sand, where snakes and buzzards scream, And in this devil’s garden blooms the mystic Tzutzu tree.

Now, once every ten years it blooms one flower, as white as the Key West sky,
And he who eats of the Tzutzu flower shall know the perfect high. For the rush comes on like a tidal wave…hits like the blazin’ sun. And the high? It lasts forever, and the down don’t never come.

But, Zabolee Land is ruled by a giant, who stands twelve cubits high, And with eyes of red in his hundred heads, he awaits the passer-by. And you must slay the red-eyed giant, and swim the river of slime, Where the mucous beasts await to feast on those who journey by. And if you slay the giant and beasts, and swim the slimy sea, There’s a blood-drinking witch who sharpens her teeth as she guards the Tzutzu tree.”

“Well, to hell with your witches and giants,” says Roy, “To hell with the beasts of the sea–
Why, as long as the Tzutzu flower still blooms, hope still blooms for me.”
And with tears of joy in his sun-blind eyes, he slips the guru a five, And crawls back down the mountainside, pursuing the perfect high.

“Well, that is that,” says Baba Fats, sitting back down on his stone, Facing another thousand years of talking to God, alone. “Yes, Lord, it’s always the same…old men or bright-eyed youth… It’s always easier to sell ‘em some shit than it is to tell them the truth.”

Shel Silverstein

Pirates…what to do.

Welcome to Anita's Den

1389971_59002934They steal from us. They take our work and give it away for free. Meanwhile, our children need food, medicine, braces…

As you may, or may not, know I sit on the Board of Directors for the Erotic Author’s Guild. Among our objectives is fighting piracy.  This does not come without repercussion and these lowlifes will stoop to any level necessary. Our founding member, Dylan Cross, had battled with one site in particular. He went so far as to contact the advertisers to make them aware (as if they didn’t know) that they were funding internet pirates. Said pirate got even…by contacting Amazon claiming that Dylan stole his books and his cover art.  Amazon took his books down and threatened to freeze his account.

No. I’m not kidding.

It took him a very long time to get the whole mess straightened out. The entire board sent missives to the…

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