Don’t Fight the Cake!

Single in the CIA

I think these days I would welcome the cake, but still wouldn’t enjoy the forced socializing.

…As with all offices in the Agency, we of course had to have cake for as many occasions as possible. It did not matter if you were working on time-sensitive intelligence that could save lives, you had to stop and gather around a giant cake at some point at least once a month. Heaven help the individual who did not have a sweet tooth (like me) or was diabetic and refused the cake – your refusal would be so offensive to the women of the office and you would risk ostracization. I was not a fan of the cake, so I experienced many a forced-cake-eating episode during my time in this office…

-From my first book, Single in the CIA .

The DGSE is Following Me!

Single in the CIA

…Chester would sometimes entertain me with stories about Annie and Carina. Apparently the two of them would go out bar hopping and come back the next day to report their shenanigans to Security. They would run their stories of being followed by French intelligence at DC bars by Chester first to see if it warranted a report to Security. Chester would entertain their delusions, figuring that at least the security officer for the division would get a good laugh…

-From my first book, Single in the CIA .

This spring I will be doing flashback posts from my first book – not just because I am lazy and crazily busy with my two kids, but because I have gained many new followers since 2015. Thank you all for the continued support!

The Martha Stewart of the CIA?

Cooking in the CIA

Cooking in the CIA is now available!

Well, not quite.

One of my goals for 2018 was to learn how and build an app. It was a struggle, but…. I finally did it! It started with classes on Swift. Then it progressed into building an app in Xcode. Months of tedious work, and then… FINALLY – I finished it. But that was just the start of the frustration. I won’t bore you with the details, but let’s just say that writing books and getting them published is easier.

This app is all about cooking. These are my own favorite recipes – ones that I have used to entertain foreign delegations during my time as a CIA officer, or discovered traveling to exotic locations, as well as recipes that are simply good for family meals.

Entertain like an international woman (or man) of mystery! Explore regions of the world that you have only dreamed of! Buy Cooking in the CIA on the App Store!

Mission: Discredit Co-Workers

Mingling in the CIA

From my latest book, Mingling in the CIA: Bloud –

…He was a bit disappointed to see that his attempts to slander Marcus had not brought about his removal from the office. During his brief visit with Vicky he had learned that Mariana had been sent back to Headquarters to work a desk job. Marcus was a little harder to discredit, being male and all…

The Culprit

Mingling in the CIA

From my latest book, Mingling in the CIA: Bloud…

…He remembered his life in suburban Ohio and how his wife, a nurse, had loved to garden. His life had seemed so full of light back then. Life had been so simple as an insurance salesman, returning home at noon to have lunch with his wife before her shift at the hospital. Taking drives around the neighborhood at Christmas time to see the lights, dreaming of starting a family. When had he decided that that wasn’t enough for him? When had things changed so dramatically?

He knew the answer to that question. It was a progression. A slow dissatisfaction had crept over him year by year until he knew he had to make a change. Of course, there were triggers along the way. For instance, after many trips to fertility doctors, the realization that they could not have their own children had sunk in. He had watched the light in his wife’s eyes dim day by day. He had at first assumed it was his wife who was infertile; certainly his organs all worked properly. He would never forget the day that her tests came back and all eyes turned to him as the culprit. That was how he felt, he was The Culprit…

Dodging puddles of mysterious liquids…

Mingling in the CIA

From my latest book, Mingling in the CIA: Bloud:

…Dodging a puddle of mysterious liquid on the floor, he slipped out the back door into the brilliant daylight of a Fort Lauderdale afternoon. The ocean crashed to his left as he walked down the sidewalk filled with joggers and bikini-clad women. Despite the bright surroundings, he felt a sense of dread creeping over him, hastened by the many shots of tequila he had downed at the last bar in which he had spent his afternoon. He glanced with disdain at a very botoxed older woman with a small white dog on a pink leash who almost bumped into him as she fumbled for a cigarette in her purse. He hated women. No, he didn’t just hate women, he hated the entire human race. He suddenly felt the urge for a very strong drink…

Introducing a new character…. Bloud!

Mingling in the CIA, Single in the CIA

We first met Bloud in my book, Single in the CIA. You may remember some of the more memorable moments, included below:

…Apparently he had done some pretty exciting things years ago and he loved talking about his experiences, holding a captive audience in the young officers surrounding him. He delighted in telling tales of encounters with tigers and serving time in a hole in the ground somewhere in the Middle East. It was hard to imagine this slovenly, obese man doing anything besides eating pork rinds and drinking beer, but the stories were entertaining. He was given the Chief of Operations or third-in-charge position in the office…

…Bloud painted a somewhat pathetic picture of himself, explaining that without his career he would have nothing. He was nearing the mandatory retirement age, and he did not know what to do with himself once he was forced to retire. He described a haunting image he had of himself as a janitor somewhere, sweeping the floor, living out his retirement. He seemed like a sad and lost soul. That evening, when we both left to go our separate ways, we agreed that anything we talked about was just between the two of us…

…Bloud was in charge while Lawrence was gone, but that was not saying much. He had taken to throwing hissy fits and closing himself in his office any time he received news from Headquarters that he did not like. He would leave the young officers who needed his guidance out in the cold while he sulked behind a closed door. He had also begun a weekly ritual of cooking a slab of meat in a crock pot for the whole office and we were all expected to eat it and listen to him blabber on while the young officers kissed his butt. I dreaded being herded into the office kitchen for these little get-togethers…

…One day when Henningway was out of the office and Bloud was Acting Chief, Bloud spent the day locked in his office and refused to release any cable traffic while he was there. Even the youngest most impressionable officers saw the immaturity in this almost sixty-year-old man…

…I sat down across from him and he explained that Bloud had been telling Vicky a lot about me. He said that upon her arrival Bloud had met with Vicky to discuss the office and had only discussed two people for the entire meeting – me and Jon, a more senior officer who always seemed to be in the middle of a controversy. Among the crazy lies that Bloud had told Vicky was that I had told him I was sleeping with Barry and that I had bragged about….

Want to get to know more about this charming personality, Bloud? Check out the newest installment in the Mingling in the CIA series!

Floral patterns and vomit…

Mission: Stand Down

From my latest book, Mission: Stand Down:

…Suddenly, she pulled back and lurched forward somewhat violently all at the same time, and Jay was covered in a very warm liquid. She collapsed on his chest in a heap of brown hair and vomit. The stench was more than he could take and he felt himself gagging as he pushed her off of him on the bed, where her vomit began to blend in with the floral pattern on the comforter…

The forbidden dog…

Mission: Stand Down

From my latest book, Mission: Stand Down:

…During his early days in Konigstan, Jay had toyed with the idea of adopting a dog. Konigstan was not a particularly dog-friendly environment and stray dogs were often shot on sight or killed in very inhumane ways. One morning, Winston had spent an entire car ride complaining about how his daughter wanted a pet dog, but religious leaders claimed that dog ownership was                       , or forbidden                       . Winston, a doting father, had explained to his tearful daughter that dog walking had been prohibited, and it would not be fair to keep a dog cooped up in their small apartment. He had told Jay about a rare dog shelter just outside of Furstville and on one exceptionally long day of waiting for Headquarters to acknowledge Jay’s existence, Jay had asked Winston to take him to the shelter.
Pulling up outside of the desolate building that housed the shelter, Jay had recalled a dark memory from his childhood. One afternoon, woken from a drunken slumber, Uncle                        had become enraged by the persistent barking of a neighborhood stray. Jay watched in horror as his uncle produced a switchblade, and trapping the dog under his legs, had begun slicing the dog’s flesh as it screamed in pain and tried to wriggle free of                        grasp. At five years old, Jay watched in shock as                        left the dog, still alive but cut in pieces, to die a slow death in the dirt outside of their house. The dog had been one of Jay’s favorites, and he had often smuggled table scraps out to the dog…