Zinnia Hope, author of multi-genres and erotic romances; also writing as J. Emberglass


A Freya's Bower Author. Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting Do you dare read my novels? Are your panties wet yet? If not, no worries because they soon will be.


Thursday, November 2



Agent: I'm declining this because there isn't enough sex in it.

Zinnia: Are you mad? Not enough sex?

Agent: Ms. Hope, you write beautifully, but the sex needs to be more explicit. (First time I've had someone tell me that!)

Zinnia: Uh...pardon moi for being candid, but what part of {insert graphic sentence from manuscript} didn't you understand? Judging by the stains on my manuscript, there is plenty of sex in my novel!

Agent: In today's erotic romance market there needs to be hotter than hot sex.

Zinnia: Oh, gee, so the hero banging the heroine until her eyes pop out and explode in mini orgasms isn't hot enough?

So, I slammed the phone down and took a walk in the backyard in hopes of spotting an unwary chicken. As I rounded the corner of the coop, the head rooster a.k.a. Big Cock, stepped out. He stared me down with his beady black eyes. I let out a war whoop and charged him.

He whipped out a tiny uzi and let it rip.

I dove for the overturned wheelbarrow resting nearby. Ping! Pa-ping! Pa-ping! The spray of teeny shots rang out over barnyard.

Slowly, I peeped over the top of the wheelbarrow. "You feathery bastard!" I yelled.

"Clake clis!" the rooster squawked and let loose with another barrage.

Off to the side of the coop, I noticed three hens watching the scene. Big Cock ran out of ammo, so while he fumbled with another full cartridge (It must suck that humans have opposing thumbs and chickens don't!), I dashed across the grass and snagged one of the hens, who let out a screech of fear.

I backed toward the house. "Pull the trigger and your deluxe roaster babe is dead. I'll wring her neck! Capiche?"

Big Cock watched me back across the yard. He threw his uzi down and squawked loudly, pacing back and forth in front of the coop, his feathers all a ruffle.

Making it to the back patio, I tossed the hen into the yard and slammed the door. She ran like mad, her tubby body waddling from side to side, neck stretched to the limit. She raced to Big Cock's side and raised holy hell, flogged him and sasshayed into the coop.

Hmm...I may just have to chickennap the rooster and mail him to NYC. The mailman will probably be pissed at me again, but it'll be worth it.

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