The Romantic Proposal....

Remember earlier I said I thought I was a jinx for Valentine's Day?  My proposals haven't fared much better.  The first one I got was over the phone long distance, and I thought my man was pulling my leg.  When he discovered I hadn't taken him seriously, he stated his reasons and asked me again.

"Are you down on one knee?"

"Just a minute....now I am.  Will you marry me?"

Our 'engagement' only lasted six weeks.

My next one was in the most inappropriate place.  He blurted it out, and looked surprised.

"Wow....I've NEVER asked a woman to marry me on the 1st date!"

"Why don't we get to know each other a few more months, and then you can ask me again?"

Two months later I learned he was a workaholic who also spent a little too much time with his mother.  End of relationship....especially when he'd promised me he'd attend a friend's wedding.  Nope; 'Mommy' had other plans for him that day.

My third one was in a romantic setting, but I was in a bad mood and I'm really surprised he went through with it!  I knew we were going to Union Station, so I'd planned to dress casually.  He arrived in good clothing; I dashed back upstairs to put something more dressy on.  

We had a good time over dinner, then decided to take a carriage ride.  We went outside, and it had started to rain.  I objected to the three-block walk; neither of us had an umbrella nor a jacket.  He convinced me it would be okay, but the rain intensified as we walked, and I kept pleading with him to return to Union Station.  We arrived at the carriages, and our driver asked where we wanted to go.  I said 'Around the Monument', thinking it was a short ride and maybe we could convince him to drop us back at U.S.  But my date said 'Around the canal'.  I argued with him, but then settled back and pulled the blanket to my shoulders, trying to dry off.

I was also sulking; my hair was dripping wet; my teeth were chattering; and I wasn't getting my way at all.  And suddenly he went down on one knee, asked me to marry him, and pulled out a box with a ring.  I was stunned....all I could think was, 'I've been such a bitch tonight, and you want to marry me?'

I did finally shake my head and he slid the ring on my finger.   Then I noticed we were heading toward the Monument; my first actual words weren't to my man, but to a stranger standing on the sidewalk.

"Look what he just gave me!"  I started crying as I stuck my left hand out of the carriage.  Then I turned back to my man, who said,"You still haven't answered me!"

I squeaked out a 'yes' and he gathered me in his arms. 

And after the ride, our driver congratulated us and the rain had even slowed as we made our way back to the underground garage where he'd parked his truck.

Unfortunately, that engagement only lasted six months.

And my current spouse's proposal was the most unromantic one anyone could ever experience.  I'd picked out my ring, then handed it to him.

"Will you marry me?" (He said)

"I guess so." (Why else would we go looking for rings?  And I just could NOT, in good conscience, allow him to spend his entire tax check on a ring for me, when neither of us had a job at the moment.)

He slid it on my finger and we'll be married 21 years this May.

My heroines haven't fared much better in the proposals:  Amber  and Marc's occurred 'off stage', but they have a nice engagement 'celebration':)

Angie and Steve, and Emma and Brad's are also 'off stage'.

Dustin does ask Courtney to marry him, in a stumbling manner;

Kevin proposes to Tammy over a candlelight dinner, but she turns him down and runs into the Ladies' room.

Let's hope I do better with my future heroines?

Marry me?

You would think, that as a romance writer, I'd be all about romantic proposals. But living in a world where tv shows like The Bachelor and the The Bachelorette exist and falling in love has become something of a spectator sport, I admit that I've become a little jaded. And perhaps a little bitchy.

It might also have something to do with knowing a few people who were more in love with the idea of getting married than they were in love with the person they married. As you can imagine, this hasn't turned out well for any of them.

However, a few months ago, I stumbled across a marriage proposal that managed to melt my bitchy little heart. A (very sweet) guy decided to recreate his and his girlfriend's first date at Starbucks. Only he built his own private Starbucks in the the woods in order to perfectly set the scene to propose to his girlfriend.

It's so sweet and took so much planning. This blog details the pictures. It's really worth a look. I love that he went to this much effort (seriously - the details are amazing!) and that their first date was important enough to to him to remember. I hope they have a fantastic life together.

My Special Valentine

According to a 2010 Hallmark commercial, one's Valentine is someone with whom you want to share your deepest secrets; spend time on the playground; and always be there for each other.  I wish I could find this commercial on YouTube; I absolutely love it!

But based on that criteria, my Valentine either does not exist, or I let him go in 1987.

I wish he'd return, or at least show himself.

I have a history of lousy Valentine's Days.  In the 4th grade, my 'boyfriend' gave me a beautiful, homemade tissue paper heart in a box frame.  I still have it, believe it or not!  And in the 7th grade, my first 'true' boyfriend made me a pink and purple pipe cleaner anklet I wore for several weeks, until I was teased about it.  (At the time, being with the same boy for more than a week or two was considered 'weird', and to add to the bewilderment, mine went to a rival school!  What was wrong with me?  Ah, the horrors of junior high....)

In high school is where I began to go wrong.  In the 9th grade, I screwed up my courage to ask my crush if he wanted a 'kiss'.  A real one if he said yes; or a Hershey's Kiss shown if he said no, with a 'too bad' tossed in (he looked startled and said 'no', then laughed and accepted my 'kiss'!)

In the 10th, I broke up with my boyfriend because I'd heard a rumor a basketball player was going to ask me to a dance.  Didn't happen, and it took me six weeks to win that boyfriend back.

As a senior, I had a heart-shaped cookie with 'Te Amo' written on it delivered to that basketball player, since we were friends, and the entire school thought we were already a couple.  I then chickened out and didn't go near him for two or three days.  We remained friends, but never mentioned the cookie.  I'm thinking about asking him at our 30th reunion if he remembers it, and what his reaction was!

In college, I formed a bad habit of breaking up with my boyfriends on Feb 14th.  The relationship(s) had grown stale, and the one time I DID receive flowers, they meant nothing, because I ended the relationship two days later.

Even when my spouse and I were dating, I had to tell him what to get me.  And my most heartbreaking Feb 14th was in 1996, when we had a fight and he announced he was going to leave me as soon as he went back to work.  Funny; he didn't return to work until nearly June that year, giving us time to repair our relationship (God was looking out for us:).  We're still together, though we have discussed going our separate ways many times.  So now I just make sure our kids know they're my special Valentines.  I buy them chocolate hearts, and fix a special dinner if we can't afford to go out to eat.

So for me, my Valentine is in the form of the various heroes I create.  Kyle, Troy, Bryan, Kevin...you embody the Valentine I'm still looking for.  If one won't come to me, I can at least make my heroines very happy.

Since I'm also posting today on another blog, here's my favorite Valentine scene from my alter ego's latest book, Forbidden Love (You DID know I had another pen name, right?  LOL!).  I had to change this to a September 'reunion' scene, but it originally takes place on Valentine's Day.  Enjoy:)

Kyle’s hands roamed her body as he helped remove the lacy fabric. He swung her up in his arms, causing theteddy to fly across the room and drape across a lampshade. Keri laughed when she saw
where it landed, but he silenced her with a kiss, a hot, passionate kiss as he lowered her
onto the double bed. She tugged at his clothing as they came together with a wild
urgency, a demanding of total satisfaction, and almost desperation of being apart for so
long. Keri screamed, pulled his hair, and kept begging for more. When it was all over,
they'd fallen off the bed with the blankets and pillows twisted around them, both soaked
with sweat.


"Good God." Kyle shook his hair out of his eyes. "What the hell was that?"


"I want to do it again." Keri tried to catch her breath. "How…how did we get down
here?"


He burst out laughing. "Because, you little minx, every time I pushed into you, you
slid across the bedspread. I'm surprised you don't remember." He kissed her and
smoothed her hair. "That was pretty intense."


"I liked it."


(later)

Keri awoke the next morning to a tickling sensation down her back. Kyle trailed his
fingertips up and down her spine, even dipped between her legs. She needed to use the
restroom but didn't want to ruin the moment. She rolled over and kissed him then could
no longer ignore her bladder.


"Be right back." She scrambled out of bed and rushed into the bathroom. When she
returned, he patted her spot. Keri slid under the covers and let his warmth flow over her.


His hands cupped her rear end. "Do you know how long it's been since you've slept
naked with me?"


Keri shook her head. "You said June."


"Too damn long." He slid his tongue across her earlobe. "God, I can't get enough of
you."


She kissed him and slid her hand down to grasp him, then rolled over to guide him
into her, but he stopped. "My turn. Be right back."


After his trek to the necessary was over, it was her turn to warm him then a game of
mutual give-and-take before he slid inside her once more.


"What time is check-out?" Keri fluffed the pillow behind her head.


Kyle lit a cigarette and blew a smoke ring. "Why? Need your chocolate fix?"


"No, although hot chocolate would be nice."


"Noon. Want scrambled eggs and bacon?"


"Yum!"


He reached for the phone. "I'll order room service then I think we'd better remove
that peach thing from the lamp before the waiter sees it. After breakfast, I want to devour
you again and wash your back."


"I like that plan." Keri felt the color rise in her cheeks.


"You know, that's what I like about you." Kyle pulled her back into the circle of his
arms. "We've been sleeping together now, what, nearly two years? And you still turn that
pretty shade of pink when I talk dirty to you."


"Shut up and kiss me."


"Demanding now, huh?" He bent his head and kissed her until room service arrived.

Forbidden Love available at Secret Cravings, Amazon, B&N, and ARE.

An Ode to the Boy I Love

Wow - I can't believe I totally forgot to blog.

However, I do have a good excuse. My soulmate - you know, that one we're supposed to blog about? Anyway, he came home after being away for three very long weeks, so I'd like to think I was understandably distracted.

Husband of mine,
I love you more than I can express
Though, there are days you piss me right off
and I could cheerfully kick you in the head
Happily, those days don't happen often

There are far more days
That you make me laugh
You let me warm my cold feet on you
Hold me close
And tell me terrible jokes

You bring me rocks and calm my fears
You give books and cats and listen to my ranting
You've given me children more amazing than I could have imagined existed
You love me in spite of - or maybe because of -
The big tangled ball of crazy that is me

I've loved you since I met you
But I don't love you as much today
As I'll love you tomorrow

An Ode To My Soulmate...

To My Soulmate,
Where ever the hell you,
Make yourself known.
Now is good.
Stay safe.

And in other news, Uniform Desires, part of the His Hero Anthology is being released on its own today. It's also part of my new Heart Of A Hero stand alone series.




Blurb:

Patience and training have provided him with the tools he’ll need to fight for what he wants.

Home on leave, Cade Donovan isn’t looking for a hook-up, let alone love. Certainly not while he is out with his brothers. When Cade steps in to even the odds in a fight outside a bar, he is instantly drawn to the man being ganged up on. Acting on instinct, the Marine Corps sniper is drawn to the smaller man like a moth to a flame, refusing to give up until the man is his.

Being the younger brother of the school bully has made Jason Carlson’s life hell. During yet another retaliatory fight, a man comes to Jason’s aid just when he thinks his life and his luck have gone from bad to worse. Warned to stay away from his home, Jason accepts the invitation of his rescuer and soon realises that his life has been forever altered. He can have everything he desires, if he’s willing trust Cade with his heart.

When the reality of loving a man in uniform sets in, Jason must find the strength within himself to believe and know that love is worth fighting for.

Excerpt:

“Stop…please!”

The plea—barely a whisper next to the loud music pouring from the Driftwood Bar and Grille—caught Cade Donovan’s attention. Senses flaring he listened again, weighing his options. His gut clenched and he turned to his brothers.

“Go on ahead, I’ll be right in.”

“Cade, where are you going?” his older brother Riley asked.

“Just need something I want to check out.”

“We’ll go with you,” his younger brother Christian said, nodding to his twin brother Riordan.

Cade smiled and shook his head. “Pretty sure I can take care of myself.”

It was rare for all of them to be home at the same time, but they’d managed it—everyone meeting at Parris Island for their sister Cheyenne’s graduation from Marine Corps boot camp three days ago. They had another two weeks before they all needed to be back to their respective bases. Earlier in the night, his sisters had gone to the movies, while their parents had gone to a couples-only party.

“Let us know if you need us to come rescue your ass.” Riordan laughed.

Cade nodded as his brothers headed into the bar. Aware of his surroundings, he made his way around the side of the building. Knowing the music would cover the sound of his boots on the pavement, he kept to the shadows as he scanned the area. At the far end of the parking lot, four men stood on the other side of a brown 1990 Cadillac Seville, kicking and shouting at an unseen person. He made his way along the side of the building and his heart dropped as his intuition was confirmed. Pulling out his cell phone, he sent a quick message to his brothers.

“Four on one. End of lot.”

Cade took a deep breath and hit send. Riley was with the SWAT team in the nearby city of Kalamazoo. Christian and Riordan were both Air Force Combat Controllers. It made sense to get their help, especially if any of the four men had weapons, but he had no intention of waiting for his brothers to show.

“Is there a problem?” Cade asked, striding over to the group then crossing his arms over his chest as he stopped.

“None of your concern, Marine,” said a man with dark hair and the beginnings of a beer belly that his faded University of Michigan T-shirt failed to hide.

“Please help me,” the boy on the ground sobbed out. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re breathing, Carlson, that’s enough,” a second dark-haired man sneered.

The four men looked to be around his age and seemed vaguely familiar but Cade couldn’t place them. They’d called the boy Carlson. As far as he knew, there was only one family of Carlsons—the family of the school bully Scott Carlson. Scott had been in his class, so that made the kid his younger brother or possibly a cousin.

“Leave the kid alone.” Cade stepped closer. Regardless of the kid’s relationship to Scott Carlson, four on one wasn’t remotely fair in these circumstances.

“Nobody asked you,” the first man said. “It’s none of your business.”

“Yeah, but see four on one isn’t fair, unless the one is a Marine. What did he do besides breathing that warrants all four of you beating the shit out of him?”

“His brother made our lives hell growing up,” a third man replied.

“Pretty sure Scott Carlson made everybody’s life a living hell. That doesn’t mean you take it out on his brother. That could be suicidal,” Cade reasoned as the smaller man tried to pick himself up.

“Doubt it. Saw him using his brother as a punching bag a couple of weeks ago. Makes him fair game,” the second man said.

“Bullshit! Why don’t you grow a pair of balls and face Scott himself?” Cade exclaimed. “Stop taking it out on someone smaller than you. That makes you just as bad as Scott.”

Movement caught his attention. Cade turned and blocked the punch, before countering with one of his own, knocking the man to the ground. He stood his ground as the remaining three men stalked towards him. Turning slightly, he stepped forward with one foot and punched the solar plexus and the gut of the closest man. Shifting his weight and pivoting, he kicked a third man in the head, knocking him to the ground, before focusing his attention on the remaining man. The man had been silent during the whole exchange.

Cade returned to the modified fighting stance he preferred and waited for the smaller man to move. He stared into the other man’s eyes until the smaller man looked away and kicked out at him. Cade caught the heel of the man’s cowboy boot and lifted with all his strength, sending his opponent sprawling onto his back.

Ignoring the four downed men, he stepped into the circle of bodies and grabbed the kid’s hand. He spun around, pushing the kid behind him as the sound of footsteps approached.

“What the fuck?” Riley asked, dialling his cell phone.

Cade relaxed, stepped to the side and guided the younger man towards his brothers, positioning himself between the man and his attackers.

“You were supposed to wait for us,” Riordan whined.

“Be smart—stay on the ground,” Christian said, moving towards the four downed men.

“Go find your own fight. Four on one was unfair. Besides, you were too slow.” Cade shrugged.

“Quit your bitching, you three.” Riley pocketed the device. “Police are on their way. What the hell happened?”

“The four of them were beating up on him for no good reason,” Cade explained.

“I…I need to go,” the smaller man stammered.

“No, you’re waiting for the police,” Cade said. “Well, the on-duty police. Riley is off-duty right now.”

The younger man shook his head and stared at the ground, kicking at a loose hunk of asphalt, holding one arm curled protectively around his abdomen. Cade’s instincts kicked in as he took a closer look at the battered man. Manoeuvring him towards the Cadillac, Cade used the nearby light to look for obvious injuries.

“How bad did they get you?” he asked.

“Just a few bruises.” The man shrugged.

“I’m Cade Donovan. These are my brothers Riley, Christian and Riordan.” Cade stuck out his hand to shake the other man’s instead of running it along his like his gut and cock were demanding.

“Jason Carlson.”

Do Clothes Make The Man?

 I'm all over the place when it comes to what my man is wearing.  I once dated an X-ray tech, so I thought he was sexy in his green scrubs

 I also had an eight-year on-again-off-again relationship with an AF officer.  He looked awesome in his dress blues.....

....as well as his white 'Don Johnson' outfit.

And who could fault a guy in a well-fitting tux?  (fans self)


While on the swim team in my teens, speedos were the swimwear of choice for the males.  I wasn't boy crazy yet, so the sight of the older guys in those skimpy, tight suits didn't do anything for me, while my friends drooled over the fact their 'package' was on full display.  All I cared about at the time was whether or not they were fast in the water, and won their races!  However, after a recent reunion with one of those former teammates, and remembering what he looked like in that suit....whew!  Sometimes a long memory is more curse than blessing....and I've also been caught on video tape telling a life guard in December...."I didn't recognize you with your clothes on!"

It's a good thing my husband understood that statement in context, lol!

But now I find myself attracted to guys in khaki's and polo tops.  So it just goes to show how tastes evolve over the years.

Transparent Togas and Boobs

I honestly don’t think I have a favorite item of clothing for a guy or girl. I’m a boob girl, so a shirt that shows off the girls without being overly slutty is always nice. When it comes to men, a good ass is always nice so a well worn pair of blue jeans is generally lovely eye candy. I like to be able to use my imagination though, you know? A guy walking around without his shirt on isn’t nearly as sexy as a guy who is wearing a great tee shirt that shows all of his lines or a sleeveless tee to showcase his arms. It's the same thing with girls… a sneak of the waist when she bends over is way hotter than wearing a belly shirt that leaves nothing to the imagination.

My love of the unknown is probably why I love the clip below so much. See, I love me some DonnieWahlberg. Even back in the day when he had that god-awful mullet and wore ripped up stonewashed denim, I loved him. Now he’s all grown up and holy hell is he pretty. I spent two evenings last summer screaming my fool head off at the two NKOTBSB concerts in Michigan (that’s New Kids on the Block and Backstreet Boys if you’re not up on the boy band lingo). There aren’t many words to describe the sexiness that is Donnie on stage. Well, actually there are words…Damn. Hot. Smokin’. Holy Shit. Fuck Me. Sweet Baby Jesus… those are just a few. :)

Anywho… as you may recall, last December I went on a Backstreet Boys Cruise to the Bahamas. It was awesome, but while this was only BSB’s second cruise the NKOTB have been doing it for a while. Both cruises usually involve theme nights in which cruisers dress up to fit a certain theme. On the last NKOTB Cruise, they had a toga party. Donnie Fuck-Me Wahlberg in a toga… A toga that in the correct lighting is somewhat transparent. Wait for it... waiiiit for it...

Yes. Yes. Very much,yes.

And here he is demonstrating the partially dressed look quite famously on tour last summer.

And rocking the dressed but showing off the body look...

Have I mentioned he follows ME on Twitter? *nods* Loves me longtime. LOL

Then there's my Number One Girlfriend Angelina Jolie… The girls are accentuated and looking yummy, tummy showing, sneak of the tattoo… bliss.

Joey is hot half naked...

But look how fucking hot it is when he's just showing a little sneak of that tummy... (This is probably the only time I've ever found sweatpants sexy, btw. Sorry, Charlotte!)

Of course mostly naked is good too... This poster for The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is by far the hottest damn movie poster ever. Yowsa!

So there you have it... what I find sexy in clothing is as clear as mud. Hehe...

Too Sexy for My Shirt

Okay, now that I've got that song stuck in your head (you're welcome) let's move on to what I find sexy clothing-wise.

I'm not one of those women who finds suits or tuxes attractive. It just doesn't do much for me. However, give me a guy in worn jeans and a t-shirt and I'm all over that. So to speak.


Or a sweater and I'm there. Now, I'm not talking about a hideous holiday sweater or a seizure-inducing Bill Cosby sweater - I'm thinking of more of a chunky knit or a Aran/Fisherman's sweater. For instance, unlike a lot of other people on this blog, I don't find Robert Pattinson particularly attractive, however, this sweater ups the attractiveness factor at least 60%.



I also think a guy in a towel is a fine, fine idea.


And lastly, let's talk accessories. A guitar ups the hot quotient by a whoooooooooole lot. I can even ignore the ridiculous trucker hat on Jared Padalecki. Why? Guitar.



There you have it. My favorite guy looks. So...am I alone on the sweater/guitar thing? What do you guys find sexy?

Unintended Striptease

There's one item of clothing I find sexy above all other items of clothing. Above crotchless panties, from which his penis peeps like a shy mole. Above leather pants that hug that ass the way I would, if the ass in question was Armie Hammer's. Above tight shirts that give men hips; above denim in all its forms (from Heinous Hasselhoff to the Fassbender Fall-Off*); above vests that sprout arms like bulldozers.

Yes, this item of clothing beats all of those things, for me. It never fails to stir my loins, no matter who it's on - and it does so for one very particular reason:

You can pretty much always see a hint of penis, underneath a pair of sweatpants.

Which is why sweatpants are my sexiest item of clothing.

Because you totally can, okay? It happens all the time, in even the tamest of places. You're there safely watching Heroes. It's PG-13. No one's going to start whipping out their boobs or having sex with someone's face. It's not True Blood, so you think you're safe.

Or at least, you are until Sylar puts on sweatpants and starts running. And then all you can see are the mesmerising kaleidscope of shapes, swirling around between his legs. Is that a fold of cotton? Did some jersey-like material just shift in a certain way? Perhaps his keys are in the pocket of these sweatpants, and when he runs they turn into a thick, rounded oblong.

Or maybe that's just his dick. It's his dick, all right? What you are now looking at is Zachary Quinto running down a hill, while his dick whaps back and forth against material so thin it's practically clingfilm.

And THAT is why sweatpants are awesome. It's like the male equivalent of a skirt blowing up in a strong gale. You try to prevent it from happening. Maybe you wear seventeen pairs of underpants, and strap your dick to your leg using sellotape. But all to no avail, because at some point you're going to have to run for that bus or bend a certain way or maybe a gust of wind will shove really hard against you and then BAM.

A million chicks looking at your dick.

And that's not even the best thing about sweatpants. Oh no no no. No, the best thing about sweatpants is that when your best bud Harmie Ammer** gives you a "friendly" cuddle, and then steps away - you can totally see his erection. Sweatpants are like the Erection Litmus Test. They're some kind of foolproof detector of erections, and more than that:

Erections look totally fooking orsum underneath them. I swear to God, you could have a penis the size of a raisin and it would still look like the almighty fist of Thor beneath that thin, ever so slightly clingy, always shifting material. My mouth waters just at the thought of a cock beneath sweatpants; my books are filled with odes to them...

Oh, sweatpants. May you ever shine your holy light, on a million celebrity penises.


*Here is the Fassbender Fall-Off, illustrated for your pleasure:



**Man, Armie Hammer's name is really hard to ineptly disguise.


P.S. My latest novella, a delicious concoction of the apocalypse, werewolves, massive hunky guys and forbidden sexytimes is out tomorrow over at Ellora's Cave. Hooray! If you fancy checking it out, you can find it here:

http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9906-raw-heat.aspx

And also, my new and very mysterious publisher, Mischief, released a few erotic anthologies today. If you fancy seeing me in a couple of them (along with such amazing talent as Justine Elyot and Rachel Kramer Bussel) you can find them here:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Sex-Stranger-Collection-Casual-ebook/dp/B006PW46OI/ref=sr_1_32?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1328634140&sr=1-32

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Submission-Treasury-Women-like-ebook/dp/B006PW46PC/ref=sr_1_35?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1328634225&sr=1-35

Or if you're in the US, here:

http://www.amazon.com/Submission-Treasury-Women-like-ebook/dp/B006PW46PC/ref=sr_1_35?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1328662985&sr=1-35

http://www.amazon.com/Sex-Stranger-Collection-Casual-ebook/dp/B006PW46OI/ref=sr_1_32?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1328663021&sr=1-32

Director's Cut-Er, Make That Author's Cut...

From Appetite For Desire....

Courtney slid into her seat, fanning herself. Her hot pink t-shirt and black Capri pants were damp with perspiration. She downed the last of her warm margarita and wiped her forehead.

“Whew!” she shouted at Stephanie, who also looked wilted in her flowered camp shirt and jean shorts. “That last set was a bitch!”

Stephanie’s eyes widened as another margarita landed in front of Courtney. “Looks like you made an impression on someone!”

Courtney grabbed their server’s attention. “I didn’t order this.”

“It’s from a gentleman at the bar.” The waitress bobbed her head at the man in question.

“Who?” Courtney squinted at the shadowy figure, frustrated the lights hid him from view. Her curiosity spinning, she asked the waitress to point him out.

“He’s the third one from the end, on the right side.”

Courtney still couldn’t get a good look at him, but one of the other girls called, “He’s the one who was asking about you last week, Court! The one whose date was constantly licking his tonsils?”

Courtney groaned. She remembered him, all right. She and the rest of her coworkers had gone to a small neighborhood bar, and she’d seen the handsome man with a clearly drunken woman. He left the bar shortly after they arrived, when his date decided to try to undress him in front of everyone.

When I first sat down to write Appetite, I remembered the first time an anonymous man had bought me a drink.  I was actually drinking rum and coke, but since my current drink of choice was a margarita, I changed it.  And yes, the man in question had been seen two weeks before, with a drunk date who decided to engage in a little too much PDA (public display of affection) with him.  He kept shooting looks my way, and I think she tried to divert his attention..

“So? Maybe he’s changed. Go on, invite him over here,” Stephanie and the others encouraged her.

The liquor lowered her resistance. No one had ever bought her a drink in that manner before and Courtney was flattered and excited by it. Downing a large swallow, she stood up amidst the cheers of her friends, and made her way to the bar.

She sucked in her breath at the sight of his muscular back encased in a blue striped polo shirt. Tentatively, she reached to tap him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, sir!”

He swiveled around and smiled. “I’m Dustin.”

“Courtney. I remember you from the Par Four bar last week.” Lord, he was tall! When he stood up, the top of her head reached his shoulder. His lazy smile combined with his milk chocolate eyes sent the flutters that were in her stomach to plummet lower, causing an uncontrollable ache. “Thank you for the drink. Do you want to come join us?”

“Lead the way.”

We danced the entire evening, and he called me the next day.  We enjoyed each other's company for two weeks, until his work schedule changed, and we were unable to get together.  He called me a few weeks later, and we went out to dinner, but it was obvious our chemistry had fizzled.  But I still have fond memories of our time together!

My favorite excerpt, however, is a real life event which occurred while I was working at the country club.  I'd become a favorite of several of the kids, and one little girl in particular.

 “Why does Olivia have to sit with us?” The eleven-year-old stuck out her full lower lip in imitation of her mother’s pout. “She’s such a baby.”

Courtney glanced toward the table. Four round tables were set up; eight place settings at each. The adults were mingling while the table where the boys sat was already in disarray.

“Your parents are friends,” she chose her words carefully. “Don’t you think you could at least try to get along for at least an hour? Then you can all jump in the pool or go your separate ways.”

“But she wasn’t even supposed to be invited,” Sheri Stants whined and tried to pout also, but failed. “She’s only here because of her dumb brother.” She rolled her large brown eyes and looked at the third girl. “Why did your brother have to invite Derek?”

Penny West tossed her blond ponytail and shrugged her shoulders. “I asked for a separate party, but nobody listens to me. So even though we’re all going swimming, only my friends are staying the night.”

“Not Olivia,” Lacey and Sheri gasped.

“Oh, no. Just you guys and Lori, Karen, and Emily,” Penny assured them. The others sighed in relief. “But seriously, Courtney,” The birthday girl returned to the issue. “Can’t you seat her with the adults?”

Courtney smiled and shook her head. “Sorry. I didn’t write the seating chart. All I expect you to do is to be civil to her during lunch. Can you at least do that for me?” She looked each girl in the eye.

      The girls squirmed. “Okay.”


The real life 'Olivia' was on the shy side, and didn't really interact with one of the more obviously popular girls.  And when they were thrown together during a party, the other girls tried to have her removed from their table, but they also wanted to remain in my favor.  They weren't happy, but I managed to impress a life lesson on them:

When she arrived at the girls’ table, Penny grabbed her. “We’re all having the fruit plate,” she announced. “I want rainbow sherbet.”

“Lemon.”

“Orange.”

“Rainbow.”

“Rainbow.”

“Strawberry.”

“Can I have chocolate?” This came from Karen, who Courtney knew, hated sherbet.

Courtney nodded and moved to Olivia. “The usual?” She smiled, patting the young girl on the shoulder. “I’ll take care of you.” 


A few weeks earlier, 'Olivia' hadn't been able to make up her mind about what ice cream she wanted in the middle of her fruit plate, so I fixed her a 'special' one.


She took eight small glass bowls and filled seven of them with the appropriate ice cream or sherbet, and for Olivia’s, she used the smallest ice cream scoop and deposited several tiny balls of the brightly colored frozen desserts, topping it off with the rainbow sherbet.


(Later)
 When Courtney placed it in front of her, Olivia beamed and picked up her spoon. Penny was outraged.

“How come she gets that? I didn’t know we could order it that way,” she sputtered.

“Yeah, how come you never told us we could have it that way?” Sheri huffed.

Olivia’s face grew red, but Courtney placed an arm around the girl’s shoulders.

“Olivia happens to be a special friend of mine, and to those I like, I give certain favors, such as the ice cream dish. Penny, you like it when I give you extra whipped cream on your milkshakes, and Karen, you’re fond of extra cherries in your Kiddie Cocktails. I could go around the table and tell each of you what extras I do for you, but I’ll leave you with this, I expect my favorites to be courteous, kind, and respectful towards others, otherwise, no special treatments.” She squeezed Olivia’s shoulder. “Understand?”

The pre-teens looked at each other, then up at Courtney. “Yes, ma’am,” they nodded their heads and began eating.

After this incident, the 'popular' ones didn't snub 'Olivia' again, but included her in their activities....at least when I was working.  I'm hoping they learned to be a little nicer to others!

Another favorite scene is this one:

. “I don’t want to sneak around anymore, Courtney.” He stepped closer to her and took her hands in his. “This is going to sound crazy, but would you consider quitting the country club? You could be our personal chef.”

Courtney’s chin snapped up. “Seinfeld did an episode several years ago about this sort of thing.” Her tone was chilly. “It begged the question—can one sleep with the maid and still pay her, even if she’s not cleaning? I am not that type of person. How dare you…”

Dustin kissed her to silence her, and Courtney felt her anger fading. “I’m not suggesting anything like that,” he murmured when they came up for air. “I mean, move in with me. Be my wife, my partner. The kids need a healthy role model, and they already love you. Hell…” He swallowed again. “I love you. How crazy is that?”

I couldn't resist throwing in the Seinfeld reference.  I felt it fit, given Courtney's personality and her sense of honor!

If you're interested in reading this book, it can be found here:

http://store.secretcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=book_info&cPath=4&products_id=85 

And Since It's Super Bowl Sunday.......


Go Eli Manning and the NY Giants!  Beat Tom Brady and the NE Patriots!!!!


Super Bowl  XLVI is being held just two hours north of me, in Indianapolis, IN!!  So cheering on the Manning Brothers, and hope the Colts make the right decision about that other awesome Manning, Peyton!

10 Days - with Commentary

I asked my groupies to help me with this week’s post. I did an unofficial survey of what scene my readers would like to have commentary on and it was decided with the help of Kelly and Angie that they wanted this one.

It’s from a story of mine called 10 Days in which each chapter is its own day in a ten day stretch in the lives of the characters. It’s fanfic and it's at least 4 years old I think, but it’s still one of my favorites. Of course once I opened up the document and re-read the chapter I wanted to edit it and make it better because I’m anal like that and can always find something to change. But when it comes to commentary I hadn’t a clue what to say! I often don’t know what the hell I’m going to write until it comes out of me, so a lot of the time my chapters don’t have hidden meanings or secrets. Sometimes they do, of course…but with this one, I honestly didn’t have much. To be honest, I was probably just in the mood to write the male lead as a sweetheart and then threw in a little sumthin’sumthin’. Anywho, here’s a peek!

Immortal Curse - Author Commentary

Hello?

Anyone?

It's been pretty quiet here, this week.

No one wanted to take a stab at this topic?

I'm gonna give it a go with an excerpt from Immortal Curse. And I apologize for being so late. I was pretty much gone all day and most of the evening. Literally just walked in the door and yelled, "Crap! My post is late!"

To which my kid looked at me and responded, "First world problems."

So true, boy child. So true.

But anyway, I digress. Here's the scene in Immortal Curse where our intrepid heroine, Emma, meets Ian, the ghost.

Gripping the rim of the claw-foot tub, Emma pulled herself up to the surface and wiped the water from her eyes. She opened them, and a scream caught in her chest. A tall and decidedly transparent man leaned against her sink. Dressed as he was in a black suit, complete with a long frock coat, he looked like an antique photograph come to life. Shaggy, dark brown hair drooped across his forehead, and he pushed it aside. Deep blue eyes watched her intently.

There's something about a man in a frock coat...

“For fuck’s sake,” she was finally able to mutter.

Not that this will come as a huge surprise, but 'for fuck's sake' is one of my all time favorite phrases.

“Language, Miss Boulton.”

Boulton is my great-grandmother's maiden name.

She grabbed a towel and quickly stood to wrap it around herself. Pointing at the door, she said, “Out. Out of my bathroom. Out of my house. Out of this plane of existence, already.”

A dark eyebrow rose. “I’d love to. Really, I would.” An Irish accent colored his words, and his deep voice wrapped her in tingling warmth. “However, I’m not leaving until you convince your harridan of a sister and her equally obnoxious companion to leave.”

God, I love an Irish accent...

“What?”

“Your sister.” He spoke slowly as though he thought she were an idiot. “Is in my schoolhouse. With her friend—the girl with red hair. They’re not listening.”

Realization sank like a stone in her stomach. “The abandoned schoolhouse on eighty-fourth street.”

The schoolhouse in the story is a real place in rural MI - in fact, it's the same one room schoolhouse where my Dad and uncles attended school waaaaaaaaaaaaaay back in the day. It's a cool old building, but creepy as hell.

“The same. They have an Ouija board.” Disdain dripped from his voice. “A pink Ouija board.”

Jen Armintrout and I went ghost hunting there once. With a pink Ouija board. It was Jen's.

She was going to kill Meaghan. And her friend, Rowan. She’d told them time and time again to stay away from there, but they didn’t listen. Now, she had to deal with a pissed off ghost.

I have a friend who's very sensitive. This whole bathroom scene was inspired by what happened when Jen and I went to the schoolhouse. However, the ghost is the story is much hotter than the one who showed up in my friend's bathroom and inspired this story.

“Look, I’m sorry they disturbed you, but they really don’t mean any harm.”

“I don’t care. I want them out.”

She sighed. Meaghan wanted nothing more than to see the same spirits Emma did, but it wasn’t where her gift lay. She was a seer—not a medium. Of course, Emma heartily wished she wasn’t a medium at the moment.

My friend has wished this too. I, however, wish I could see stuff...like ghosts.

Because it's so late and I'm so stinking tired, this is just a short bit of author commentary, but I promise, if we do this again, it'll be longer.