Sunday, November 30, 2008

Elfing Eve is upon us!

This is it! That most joyous night of the year is upon us. No, not Christmas Eve, but you’re getting close. Tonight is the one night a year all of Santa’s little helpers wait with bated breath, knowing come morning all their dreams will come true. Yes, it’s….

Elfing Eve!

In less than 24 hours you the reading public will be allowed to enjoy a holiday usually reserved only for the Kringle staff. But how will I know the proper way to celebrate this new holiday? You may be asking yourself. Really, it’s quite simple. Thanks to Lyrical Press and J. Morgan you will be able to buy the one book that explains all about Elfing. Though Jmo and Lyrical Press in no way back up this statement. But, we do promise that your holidays won’t be complete without this book. Your Christmas spirit will be all icky if you don’t and your placement on the Nice List may be in jeopardy. You can ignore these warnings at your own risk or pick up your copy of Elfing Around as soon as it hits the shelves.

I know what I’d do if I were you, but then again I am the author.

J. Morgan


Lyrical Press


Elfing Around

Taste The Tinsel Tomorrow

December 1st

Oh, Merciful Snowballs! I was going to jail. Sure, back in the car I knew where the cop was taking me, but faced with the iron bars and cinder block walls, it came crashing home. I was going to be the first elf in generations to have a criminal record. The last had been the first Kringle and he was a hero for going. Prostitution on the other hand was not the same as going thing as going to jail for giving away toys.

“Hey, Dalton ! I got a live one.” ol’ Barney yelled, as he grabbed a set of ancient keys from the wall.

“It better not be another late night jaywalker.” A deep voice warned from down the hallway.

“Not this time.” He yelled back. “This time I got me an honest to goodness big city hoor.”

The sound of a chair being slid back echoed down the hall. It was followed by the heavy clump of footsteps. I looked up from my shame to see a mountain of a man bearing down on us. I gulped, at the sight of him.

When I say man, I mean M-A-N. I might be an elf, but I know a man when I see one. This one was definitely every inch of that. He looked to be six foot four inches, a giant compared to me. His tan shirt strained against his chest. I could see the well defined muscles underneath the shirt had molded themselves into the coarse fabric. I dipped my face to check out the rest of the package. Well, well, the muscles weren’t the only thing that strained against the fabric.

I had to bring my attention somewhere else or I was going to sweat myself to death. His face seemed like a safe place to start. Was I ever wrong? He had the bluest eyes that I had ever seen. Blue wasn’t right either. They were closer to violet from the way the fluorescent lights hit them. Whatever the case, they hypnotized me.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

The Winners!

The Memoirs of Jean Baptiste Morgane has come to a close and thanks to you, our fans, our first interactive romance was a rousing success. From the outpouring of response to the story you can bet on a repeat sometime next year, but first we need to announce our Winners!

That’s right for picking love over death these great readers have earned FREE STUFF!

Maithe, you’ve got a Mis-Staked Calendar and Car Window Decal heading your way.

Grayson, even though you were the one opposing vote, you’ve got Morgan O’s goodie bag coming to you. Be sure to send her your snail mail addy.

Maithe, we already know where you live!

We’d like to thank everyone for joining us for this fantastic adventure. Not to leave anyone out, we have a freebie for all those who entered and the rest of you who read along but got tongue tied about which way to go.

We’ve collected The Morgan Diaries, Vol. 1, into a handy book format with all sorts of extras. What extras you’re asking yourself? Well, how about a new opening chapter along with the deleted ending that most of you voted against? You get all those goodies and a directory of JMo’s and Morgan O’s books with author bios. This is better than a DVD. Although we’re pushing for this to be made into a movie, Lucas won’t return our calls. Won’t he be sorry to miss out!

So check the Files section of our Yahoo! Group:


Email either Jmo or MorganO and request your PDF copy of The Morgan Diaries, Vol. 1. What could be simpler?

Saturday, November 1, 2008

A History Mystery - Pirates of New Orleans - Conclusion


The soft male voice in my ear roused me only slightly from my dreams. I didn’t want to open my eyes, not yet. In those dreams, Jean Baptiste, the man and pirate of my fantasies, held me close as we danced close to one another. Male comfort enveloped me, but the scent, while familiar, wasn’t quite what I’d expected. Refusing to give up my dreams I snuggled closer into the arms holding me. Even if they were dream arms, I wanted them more than the reality which was surely waiting.

“Morgan, you must wake.”

The voice was male, but whispered like that, I couldn’t identify exactly to whom it belonged. It was familiar and comfortable, that much was certain. Jean Baptiste? Or Mattias?

My lips were dry, my throat parched. I tried to moisten my lips with a swipe of my tongue and caught the remnants of a flavor, a mere smear… sweet and rich, like the finest old vine zinfandel… Had I drank too much? I clung to the dream of waltzing in the arms of a handsome man. From a distance I heard music, not the stringed strains of an eighteenth century waltz, but rather the cacophony that is New Orleans in full party mode.

A hand gripped my waist and, moaning, I felt my body move toward the body that belonged to the hand as consciousness crept into my brain.

“My lady, we must move from here,” the voice was a little louder and I tried to move away from it. I didn’t want to leave my dreams.

“As much as I hate to agree with the gnat, he’s right.” Jean Baptiste’s voice, this time I was sure. “You need rest and dawn isn’t far off.”

Dawn. Jean Baptiste and dawn. That did it. My eyes flew open and I found myself supported between two bodies. Jean Baptiste at my front, Mattias lending support to keep me from falling over backward into the gutter.

“My lady, whatever possessed you?” Mattias’ scolding voice sounded overly loud in my ear. A soft breeze rose off the river bringing with it all the scents in an overwhelming rush. It was as if my nose could smell a hundred times better than before. The sensation swamped me and my stomach roiled. Not all the aromas were pleasant.

“She needs to be inside,” Jean Baptiste said and I was lifted into a pair of strong arms. “Waking outside like this, it’s too much.”

I moaned in agreement. I felt hung over, I felt light as air, I felt… immense, powerful, and sick all at the same time, and I hadn’t even opened my eyes yet.

“Go ahead and get the house open. I’m right behind you, thrall.”

I heard the voices. I recognized the owners. Jean Baptiste held me, but he ordered Mattias around like a servant?

“What…?” I spoke my first word around a waking throat. I licked my lips again and in a rush, it all came back.

Not a dream.

One moment I’d been standing on the street watching Jean Baptiste fade into the shadows and then I’d reached for him. Grabbing the lapels of his coat, I’d thought to shake some sense into him, or at the very least, kiss him into submission. For God’s sake, why had he been demanding an answer tonight? If he were a vampire, I was still a reasonably young woman, we could have taken years to choose. Why force the issue tonight?

I’d opened my mouth to argue with him when Mattias had come running out of the night.

“Don’t let him do it, Morgan! Don’t let him! Fight!”

A weight fell against my back and I was thrown against Jean Baptiste. My open mouth had landed on his mouth, and by instinct, my teeth closed around his lower lip. The taste of blood touched my tongue and the dream state fell upon me. With the memory returning, I felt my teeth extending, a thirst for more consuming me.

I’d tasted blood and I wanted more. More of Jean Baptiste’s rich sweet blood. At just the thought, two sharp points poked my lip and I tasted my own blood.

So it was, the elusive thought.

I am now a vampire. And for some reason, I’m not furious over it, neither then, nor now. Mattias seems to be, but then, I could smell his love for me. How weird is that? His devotion to me. And yet, it’s the love and devotion I can smell coming from Jean Baptiste that moves me most of all.
My eyes fluttered open and I looked up to see him staring down at me as we paused beneath an arched arbor heavy with overgrown vines of honeysuckle and wisteria now dormant with the approach of winter.

“Awake now, my love?”

His rich voiced filled me as much as his rich blood had only minutes ago.

“Aye, my pirate, I’m truly awake.” I tugged his head down to me and kissed him, running my tongue over his lips, seeking another taste of his sweet blood.

“Soon, love, soon. Our servant just needs to lose his case of fumble fingers and get the door open.”


“Your assistant, the creature named Mattias.” Jean Baptiste mounted a step and swung me into a dark foyer. “Welcome home.”

“Your house?” I looked around and while it was dark, it was as if I’d been given a pair of night vision goggles. I didn’t have time to see much beyond stairs leading up, a living room off to the side, and stairs leading down, but what I did see looked elegant, though stuffed with antique furniture.

“Now our house. Our house with a servant.” The last was said with a growl of disgust.

“Hey, I didn’t choose to be your servant, Count Dracula. You conscripted me.” Mattias’ insolent mutter sounded comforting in its own way. My trusted assistant.

“Only because I knew she’d be upset if I killed you.” Jean Baptiste still carried me and we went down some steps. Not up. A coffin in the basement, was that my destination?

“And I’m only here because I want to be there when she chews your ass out for the layers of dust in this crypt. Morgan likes a clean house and this is nothing like one.”

“Boys,” I moaned. My head, while clearer than I could ever recall, was also pounding fiercely. Yes, the house was dusty and looked like an abandoned museum, but it wasn’t high on my priority list at the moment. Later. After a serious amount of sleep…and other things.

I had a quick glimpse of a large room we’d descended into before a door was opened and Jean Baptiste carried me into a smaller room. Like upstairs, it was crowded, but the items looked more modern. Was this man, this vampire, a pack rat?

“At least this room is clean,” Mattias muttered and a small flare of light appeared. Others followed and soon the scent of candles filled the air. Soft vanilla. A warm glow filled the room and Jean Baptiste gently laid me on a huge bed.

Four tree trunk sized, hand carved posters held up heavy black velvet drapes and the sheer decadence and richness surrounded me as I settled onto the soft comforter.

“Then since it bothers you so much, we’ll expect the house to be in spotless order by the time we wake at sunset.”

I stared at Jean Baptiste sitting on the edge of the bed. He was ordering Mattias to clean the house? Before I could say a word I sneezed. And sneezed again. Dust. I hate dust.

“Morgan-” Mattias was cut off by a snarl from Jean Baptiste.

“My lady,” Mattias started again and I turned my head to stare at him. “Why did you do it? Why didn’t you listen to me?” he whined, a looked of deep sadness filling his eyes.

“I love him, Mattias. But it was you who pushed me into his arms.” I turned my gaze back to Jean Baptiste and knew. A feeling of warmth filled my heart and I knew he was mine for all eternity. His dark eyes stared back at me and slowly a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. I saw a hint of his fangs and felt mine grow in response. His grin widened and he reached out to stroke one.

“I never imagined fangs could be so… cute.”

“Cute?” I certainly didn’t ever expect to hear that word from him.

He stroked my fang and I felt lust rise up and rush through me. The dress and corset were too tight, too binding. I reached for the ribbons tying the bodice but Jean Baptiste beat me to it. In the blink of an eye, the ribbons were undone and the dress lay open.

“Your fledgling fangs,” Jean Baptiste said. “They’re… cute. I don’t think I’ve ever seen any so cute before.”

I ran my tongue over my fangs and could only think of sinking them into his neck, his thigh, his wrist… anywhere I could. Wanting him, I sat up. “Help me out of these clothes.”

“Leave us,” Jean Baptiste said to Mattias without ever turning away from me. “Remember, dust free and spotless by sunset.”

“I’ll have to call in professionals to get it all done,” Mattias said with haughty indignity.

“Whatever. Just don’t let them in the basement. You’ll clean that on your own. It is our private domain and none save the three of us will ever pass into it. It will be rare even for you to venture down here.”

“Don’t scream if I move some items into a storage unit.” Mattias sniffed and turned away, closing the door behind him.

“What made you choose Mattias,” I asked as clothes, both his and mine began to fly off our bodies. I wanted him and I wanted him right then.

“He’s devoted to you. I’m not big on servants, but I thought you might appreciate him, at least through the honeymoon period while you’re adjusting.” Jean Baptiste shoved off the last of his clothes before advancing on me with a predatory gleam in his eye.

I was still trying to peel the stockings off when he pushed me back into the bedding. “Leave the stockings. I like them.”

The roguish glint in his eye thrilled me and I stretched out, arms over my head. “So why did we have to do this tonight?”

“Because,” he murmured as his glazed eyes took in my body stretched out before him. An entirely new face of hunger and desire was shown to me a moment before he lay down over me, his lips settling on mine. “I wanted you here or to not live at all. We could have waited a year or more, but after finding you, I didn’t want to wait.”


His lips molded to mine and his tongue stole into my mouth. I answered him, delirious with wanting him, wanting his taste. He teased me mercilessly, drawing out the foreplay as he demonstrated his superior strength over my fledgling powers. He didn’t need to bind me with chains or leather. He bound me with love and at the moment we joined, our mouths at each others’ necks, we drank and melded and whatever conception of loving I’d had before went up in flames.

I rose on flaming wings as he took me to heights I’d never imagined before. This was why I’d chosen him. Or I’m sure I would have chosen to bite him. Good thing I did, because I never would have known this. This ability to fly.

Actually, he’s promised to teach me to fly for real. Complete with my own little bat wings, when they grow strong enough, that is.

But for now, I like this kind of flying, this kind of melding. For he is my mate. The missing half to my soul.

And there you have it, Papa and Mama. I’m sad that I won’t ever meet you in… that place you’ve both gone to. That is denied me now, but as long as I have Jean Baptiste, I don’t much care. Though Mattias is right, there is much about this house that needs setting straight. I’ll continue to teach, for now, night classes. I’ll get Mattias through his doctorate and then I’ll retire, possibly to teach only one class a year. A night class of course.

Otherwise, Jean Baptiste tells me we’ll travel. All of a sudden he has a longing to retrace his life. We’ll write the book together, but it will be for us alone, mainly because, as both the men say, I’ll pester Jean Baptiste into oblivion otherwise. I must have my answers.

For example, just where is that pirate fortune and will I get to document it? For now, those questions will have to wait. Jean Baptiste is pulling me back into bed and I feel sleep stealing over me, a sure sign the sun is rising, or so he tells me. Judging by the gleam in his eyes, he wants to make love again. Not that I’m complaining.

All right already, Jean Baptiste, I’m com…