Writin’ and momin’ ain’t easy

Like the majority of the wonderfully talented writers I know, writing isn’t my only jig. I have a full time day job. And a four year old and a house and laundry and a whole slew of other things that take up my brain space. Limited space that right now realllllly needs to be full of the characters in my next book. Deadlines and all that jazz. 

I took of the week from said day job to try and get my next novel completed and to my publisher. And as I type this? I’m hiding at Starbucks b/c the amount of laundry sitting in my writing room makes me want to cry. I put it there so I wouldn’t have to look at yesterday. In a perfect world I would spend my days writing and my evenings and weekends with my kiddos. Hell, if we’re throwing out fantasys I’d also have a lovely and kind housekeeper to help me out. She’d be sweet and full of wise words. But that’s not my reality. In reality my life is an unorganized cluster f**k. It’s gotten to the point where I can’t even attempt to write when my husband and daughter are home. Maybe it’s old age, but I require peace and quiet to concentrate now. And I swear to you guys, my family…they are the loudest people on this planet. I scream at them out of necessity. Usually. 

I literally can’t do it all. And I sure as shit can’t even attempt to do it all with grace and a smile on my face. That isn’t me. I get frustrated, I get stressed. I’m human. If you were to watch me try to balance my life it would be an ugly uncoordinated dance full of cussing. I’m a this difficult in between stage with my writing. I’m doing really well, but not quite well enough to quit my day job. So I can only write in the evenings.  When my daughter was younger, finding free time to do that was easier. Now she’s this little person with thoughts and opinions and things she wants to share with me. Every second of every day. 

As a mom and as a creative person, I want her to feel heard. I want her to know she’s brilliant. But achieving that every time she decides to change clothes for fun or re arrange her room or over feed the fish to the point of death…isn’t easy. It takes patience (which I don’t possess in spades). Obviously I can’t trust the little fish killer alone for more than two minutes. So sometimes, I’m more wicked witch than I am Mary Poppins. But I take a deep breath, I forgive myself, and go hug my kid. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, it’s all about balance. Balancing what needs to be done with what you want to do. Balancing the things that make you who you are with the things that make you crazy. And I can assure you guys, I don’t achieve it every day. Sometimes I fall short, and I know you do to. I’m just here to show you my dropped balls, so you feel better about yours 😉.

I deal with my imperfections by going to the gym (for the thirty minutes I have between work and school pick up) and drinking wine (often) and watching trash tv and teenage dramas. And apparently hiding from my life at Starbucks. I live in the old people capital of Texas, so I’ve heard some interesting stories today. But now, It’s time for me to go home. Maybe do a little laundry (but if not, we’ll all live) and hopefully do a lot of writing. Here’s a little something to get us through the day. 

Love, LP


The loneliest number?

This past week my co worker and I got to talking about life before we met our significant others. She told me she was lonely before she met her husband. I told her I was awesome before I met mine.        (Granted I had horrible taste in guys)

None the less. I was a very happy content person BEFORE I met my husband. I loved my own company, I enjoyed hanging out with me. And I’ve come to realize that’s not only the best gift you can give yourself, it’s the best gift you can give to your future partner. When the person you’re with is constantly looking to you to make them happy, it’s exhausting. And it’s a strain on your relationship. Trust me. I lived it. 

Here come a shit ton of cliches; You have to learn to love you, before you can learn to love someone else. You have to make yourself happy, not depend on anyone else to do it. And last but not least, you have to know you can do it. You have to know that you can be independent and self sufficient. God forbid something were to happen to my marriage, like you know, if it broke or ended. (I was going to use an example here about my husband dying, but it freaked me out too much) I would be heart broken, devastated. But I know I’d survive. Because I was okay before I met him. I learned to survive before him. I don’t depend on him to make my world go round. I can crank that bad boy myself. 

I lived alone, I paid my own bills, I killed my own spiders, I checked out the strange noises and fix my leaky faucet. I became a grown up all on my own. And I had a fucking blast doing it too. 

I danced on my furniture in my underwear, for no other reason than I felt like it. And I’m a good dancer y’all. 

I drank alone. Not in a I need help sort of way, more of a I’m going to get a buzz and watch my DVR kinda way.

I did more than just drinking and dancing, although that took up the majority of my twenties. But you get the point I’m trying to make here, right? Stop looking for others to validate you, to save you, to make you feel good about yourself. Look to yourself. Because I promise you, the power is in you. 

Become who you are, be solid in who you are. And then look for love. If you don’t like you, why would you expect anyone else to? In my experience, guys don’t typically like needy. I don’t like needy, and I’m a chick. 

And just so you know, I still have a good time when I’m alone. Not that it happens all that often…But when it does, I dance. I laugh, I enjoy the time to myself. I savor it to be honest. Sometimes, I think back on when it was just me, and smile. I beam. 

And there are your hot guys. Oh! I learned a need word from Twitter last night too. Fellated. Google it. 

Love, LP

We all fall down

Remember my last post? About my amazing balancing act and finding/knowing yourself? Yeah. Today is one of those other days. The days where you find yourself sobbing in the car in the Wal-Greens parking lot while you make your child a collage of pictures with tape and $10 scissors. That sounds crazy right? Let me start at the beginning. 

I woke up this morning with a massive tension headache. I took all the medicine I could safely take and it wasn’t helping. When I get those I can’t really move my head. So I was already going to be late to work. When I got to my daughters PRE-K class, I realized I’d forgotten to do her homework with her. (Side note, she’s not even four, why do we have homework?!) It’s this thing where they need to make a collage of pictures that start with the letter of the week. (Side note, she’s not even allowed to use scissors, she cut her own hair a few days ago) We (I) never got around to doing it, I forgot. I had a mommy mess up. And it really bummed my kid out that she didn’t have hers when everyone else did. I started crying. Like I made it safely out of her classroom and I was rocking my badass aviators, but I cried. By the time I made it to Wal-Greens? Ugly cry. Sobbing. 

I hated letting my kid down, it made me feel horrible. So I called my work, explained to my boss that I would be even later but I needed to do this for my daughter. Or at least I tried to say all that, but instead I’m pretty sure it was just unintelligible mumbling through heaving breaths. I’ve very lucky to work where I do. My amazingly wonderfully boss calmed me down and told me to take the day and take care of myself and to figure out what I needed. You see, she knew me well enough to know that my tears weren’t about the letter of the week. Letting Stoli down was just the final straw. It’s what broke me. 

I have a toddler, I have a husband that owns his own company and works way more hours than humanly possible, I have a house that is literally in a constant state of being remodeled, I have an adoption in the works, I have books that won’t write themselves, and I have a full time job. It’s a lot. And most days I deal and move on, but today? It was too much and I lost my shit. As I was sleeping last night, my stress made me tense. It made me sick. And when I looked into my daughter’s disappointed face, I broke down.  

I had a meltdown, and I’m okay with that. Because now I’ve let it all out and it’s time to move on and deal with my issues. I need to re work my schedule and I need to prioritize and I need to be more organized. I know my weaknesses, (I’m a hot mess that is living in complete chaos) I own them, I just can’t let them cripple me. I’m not the only woman in the world that is trying her damnedest to do it all. Be everything to everyone and be the best version of herself at the same time. I’m sure there are a million people out there that have it way harder than I do. Hell, my closest friends are freaking super heros! One of them has four kids under the age of 11 and she runs a company. One of them has a toddler with a baby on the way, is the soul bread winner and has a husband that currently lives in another city going to school. In comparison to most, my problems are minimal. But today? They seemed monumental. 


We all wear capes, mine just got all tangled up, and I fell. But as I sit here in my guest room (one of the only rooms not being effected by the overhaul) writing this blog post and sharing my life with you, I’m already starting to feel better. Stronger. More equipped for my life. Today I had no balance, tomorrow will be better. 


Here is this super hot dude that I stalk on Instagram as a thank you for listening to my melt down today. I hope that all of you guys have a great day and an amazing weekend. 

P.S. It’s world book day, so my novel St. Leasing (Book One) is free this week

Love, LP

Balancing Act

I saw this on Instagram the other day, and I loved it. It’s a funny little quote, but it really got me thinking about the balance in my life. There are days when I am on point, I get things done and I am the best version of me. And others? I binge watch Teenwolf on Netflix (don’t laugh, I kind of have a crush on Styles). Terrible TV show choices aside, at the ripe old age of 31, I’ve achieved balance. 


I feel like I spent my twenties trying to get to a place of symetry within myself and my life. And it was just because I didn’t really know who I was. Or better yet, who I wanted to be. I wanted to be a wife and a mom, I wanted to be wild and free, I wanted to be covered in tattoos, I wanted to be perfectly put together, I wanted to be super healthy and in shape, I wanted to be a yoga instructor…the list goes on and on. But that’s your twenties, right? Trying to figure out your life and who you want to be by making huge mistakes and spending a lot of time hung over at brunch. 

I’ve realized that I don’t have to choose between all these different parts of myself.  It’s all part of me, it’s just me. I have tattoos, and kids, and I do yoga, and I still get wild with my friends and I try to make good choices about the food I put in my body. By simply letting go of who I thought I wanted to be, by just being me with no expectations, I balanced myself. So, I urge you all to think about yourselves today, think about the balance in your life. The ratio of lazy/motivated and mom/tattooed wild child that it takes to make you happy. And strive for it. 
As always, I leave you with this adorable man. Enjoy. 

Love, LP


Here’s the thing about fairytales 

My Twitter bio says “I write fairytales. Only the stories are dirtier and the boys are hotter.” Today, while I was in the shower this Jason Mraz song came on and it was so sweet and moving and it made me start thinking about that. About love and fairytales and my job as a writer. I create fantasy. I create these sexy hot foul mouthed amazing men who can bang like it’s their job. They have tons of money and unlimited stamina and treat their chicks like they are the most precious thing in the world. We all know that’s not real life. That’s why we read romance novels. It’s an escape, it’s fun. Well, today I’m going to share my real life with y’all, my reality. 

Last night my husband and I had a kid free date night. We went to this amazing pizza place and drank a bunch of micro brewed beer (we were very hipster). While we were eating I brought up the subject of me traveling to signings with a male model. My husband didn’t even blink before he said, “You totally should, I bet that’s a huge crowd pleaser.” And I just sat back and thought, damn I love this man.  Then we got home and he told me “Grab your laptop, I’m going to try something new and you’ll want to take notes.” And I thought, holy balls he is the best! He is so supportive of me, of my passion. He’s so willing to help and encourage. That’s a fairytale. A man who loves you and accepts exactly who you are and what it takes to do what you love. 

A man who is a good father, a man that makes your children laugh.  Now, no one is perfect. He never does the dishes and he always sleeps through our kids sleepless nights. Oh! And he never answers his phone. But, I am so lucky, I really am, that this is my real life. 

Don’t get me wrong; I love reading romance novels. I love the fantasy. It’s my job, it’s my obsession. But I also want you guys to know that there are all kinds of “fairytales” out there. And I want you to find yours. I’m going to be honest with you; it’s probably not going to be a Charlie Hunnam look-a-like biker, or a tattooed world famous guitarist with perfect fingers, or a billionaire that wants to tie you up. Find someone that loves you, exactly the way you are. Find someone who wants your heart and your mind as well as your body. Find someone who you can trust, who you can depend on. Fairytales aren’t a sprint. It’s called happily ever after, which in my mind means a real long ass time. Lust ebbs and flows. You think Dash and Lexi are still banging non stop once that baby comes? Nah. They’re both exhausted and arguing over whose turn it is to get up. 


 Keep reading. Always have your escape, always have fun with your fantasies. I do. All the time. But don’t forget what’s real, and what matters. And to my husband, thank you for letting me be me, and for letting me play with male models. 

I won’t give up on you

That’s the video link. Listen to it. 

Love, LP


How far gone

First things first, I have been slack-a-lackin’…and I apologize. I haven’t posted a blog in a really long time. Y’all know how it goes with the holidays and families and work.

It’s insanity. I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season and got to spend lots of time with all those crazy relatives. That being said, I missed you guys! 

Pretend I just gave everyone an “I miss you” hug. You guys have any New Years resolutions? I’m a big resolution flake, so I aimed low this year. I am going to make good choices when I order food. Like instead of the bread, I’ll get the lettuce wrap. Instead of the regular piezookie at BJ’s, I’ll go gluten free. Keep it attainable. 

I had an idea, y’all tell me what you think. I want to watch the Bachelor, b/c it’s fun and frivolous. And I was thinking maybe you guys can watch it with me? I’m not sure how that would work, we could live tweet it I guess. I’m on Twitter @LPMaxa if you want to join, I’ll start tonight. 

Ben is adorable and I love wine. Seems like a good time. ALSO, I have some exciting news! I finished Jacks’s book!!! Book 3 of the Devil’s Share series. It’s with my amaze balls editor Jenni over at Borough’s. So, hopefully, it’ll be out in a few months. Sorry I’ve been MIA here. 

Does this gorgeous man in a bubble bath make up for it? 

Love, LP

Manners matter y’all

I was born and raised in the great state of Texas, which means I am lucky enough to say “I’m from the south”. Now, as I’ve mentioned in a few of my books, there is a difference between the south (Texas) and the deep south (all the other southern states). I’ve dated men from both. Trust me, there’s a difference. 

I was talking with some girl friends of mine not too long ago about manners and being raised in the south. It’s was during the day of Play Dirty’s release. (Visit http://www.lpmaxa.com to purchase) You see, my publishers did a release day blitz for me. Which sent my southern manners into overdrive. I was going crazy constantly posting thanks yous and you’re the bests on all these different tweets and shares and review sights. My head was spinning. But, I couldn’t not express my graditude. It’s ingrained in my DNA to say please and thank you and call people ma’am and sir. To this very day I call my friends parents Ms. (Insert first name) or Mr. (Insert first name). And I’m 30. Actually y’all, I’m almost 31, which is another blog post entirely. 

So, anyway, I was talking to some friends about their favorite southern manners and niceties. 

A: According to Gogo (her grandma) if someone comes by to visit and you don’t have iced tea and some sort of snack they won’t come back. Too this day she tries to feed everyone like we haven’t eaten anything in a week!

Also southern hospitality is an excellent Ludacris song

B: Being from California I’ve really gotten into the phrase bless her/your heart instead of saying F off. I feel like that’s a uniquely southern way of politely expressing your distaste. 

(And just to be clear, those aren’t A and B points. Those are the initials to their first names.)

M: Hand written thank you cards, personal and for business, make the world of difference 

Find a way to make anything a compliment.

You can hide alcohol in almost any beverage and go undetected 


I love where I’m from. And I love that it’s on going. I love that manners and southern hospitality aren’t something that’s stopped with an older generation. All my friends are teaching their kids what they were taught. My daughter is three and little boys in her daycare class open the door for us to leave. 

It’s a way of life, that will continue, because that’s just how we were raised. 

Thanks y’all 😉


Ps- you didn’t think I would forget the best part, did you?


And there’s the link for Ludacris 😘❤️

Love, LP