I’ve spent the past few days re-starting the same story about a million different ways. Well, not the same story, exactly. I’m trying to write a sexy story about religion/spirituality–whatever that means, right? I’m not religious at all, and I’m barely spiritual. I’ve only been in a church for weddings, I’ve never read the Bible, I was raised by hippies and I believe firmly in science. Which means that this is a stretch for me. Still, that’s part of the reason I’m determined to make it happen.

The story started with an angel, but he didn’t want to come alive on the page. Then I moved into a home for unwed mothers, where the pregnant narrator had a thing for her pastor, but that didn’t quite gel either. A million other starts, and then, BAM! There’s my title, out of thin air.

The Devil Went Down on Georgia.

Well, duh. Of course he did. She’s hot.

So there I go. The devil’s got a story to tell, and I’m letting him tell it. He’s got a surprising sense of humor, as it turns out, and quite a tongue…

There is more news: galleys to look at, my sexy and gorgeous contributor copy of Dirty Girls to read, other stories in the works, invitations to read…

But I’m afraid the devil’s captivated me at the moment, and so, those must wait. Talk about a man who can speak in tongues…

p.s.–Title specifically designed for, and partially inspired by, Sommer.

p.s.2–Seriously gorgeous photo by sakster.

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