An author's mind is a pretty weird place on a good day (at least mine is!), and things can go downhill pretty fast when I'm under deadline, tired, or just feeling silly ... leading to typos that I can't really blame on autocorrect, my word processor, or anything other than Freudian slips. Here are some of my favorites, along with commentary. For up-to-the-minute typos and other random musings, please become a fan on Facebook!


... she held herself a little stiffy ...
(What a difference the letter "L" makes!!)

... their bodies were still intertwined, like they'd been going at it hot and heavy with their moths rather than their minds ...
(Is that a pair of mothballs in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?)

... she looked stunning, standing naked beside the silvery waterfall and the glittering poo that spread beneath it ...
(All that glitters is not gold!)

... so tell me, dear reader, what is your favorite shapeshi*ter?
(It comes in different shapes? Well, I guess it could be a hat, a broach, or a pterodactyl!)

... that should take care of it--knock on weed ...
(Paging Tommy Chong and a can of Pringles)

"For Chrissakes, are we going to get moving, or keep purrying around?"
(Well, I guess 'pussying' has that cat connotation, after all)

... it made a moist, sucking sound, like she was walking on wet sane ...
(Hey, wench, don't tread on my sanity!)

... he bowed over the sacrifice, humbling himself before the gods of the ski.
(I've known guys who worship their cars, but really? A ski?)

... cut through her like a thousand shards of colored gas ...
(Well, I guess if unicorns can fart butterflies, rainbows aren't that far off...)

... in the new Nightkeepers' novella, Crusty Skull!
(Er, that'd be Crystal, not Crusty. Two very different concepts, that!)

... deep down inside her, a big-assed case of merves took up residence.
(I hate it when I get a case of the merves!)

... thanks for the judos, but I'm not sure I've earned 'em.
(Besides, I prefer ninjas!)

... go ahead and put your dink on the table. You're not going to be needing it for a while ...
(And it makes a lovely centerpiece!)

... at the sound, her rear exploded ...  
(Er, fear, maybe? Or else too many beans?)

Manhung in the Wild West  
(This one I sent in an email to my editor, with the end result that we now call
the book 'Well Hung in the Wild West.' Which is pretty accurate, really- lol.)

... a retelling of a beloved farty tale ...
(Apparently, I'm a ten year old boy at heart, because I skew towards fart
jokes.)

It was a hell of an exist line.
(Hmmm... what's my exist line? Aha! I caffeinate, therefore I am!)

...he was going to get a lot of head for that one.
(Um, that should be 'heat'. Or perhaps not ;-)

He was the moist irritating person she'd ever had the misfortune of meeting.
(I think there's a cream for that.)

... he patted the cushion, inviting her to spit beside him.
(Or 'sit'. Depends on her mood, I guess! LOL)

... it was her kinky weapon.
(Er ... 'her kind of weapon'? Yikes! Sticks and stones may break my bones,
but whips and chains excite me ...)

... while Mac, ruff bristled, stayed on guard close to Sven's eels.
(Well, if I needed my eels guarded, I could do worse!)

... her heart broke into a thousand glittering sharts ...
(No. Just no. <G>)

... and a terrible roaring nose filled her ears ...
(Antihistamines, maybe? ;-)

... testing the strength of the bone that connected them.
(Bond. And no further comment!)




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