Aspiring writers are told “write what you know”.
I took that advice to heart.
I know two things… business (based on decades in new business development) and romance (based on falling and staying in love with the man of my dreams).
September 2, 2009
September 3, 2009
September 10, 2009
A Short Story On Author Island
September 10, 2009
September 15, 2009
September 21, 2009
October 12, 2009
Interview And Fave Paranormal Book Contest
December 1, 2009
December 6, 2009
Host - My Christmas Traditions
February 15, 2010
“So how long have you known Todd, dear?” His mom hovered anxiously near the table, one foot pointed towards the kitchen.
Becky smiled, flashing those adorable dimples. “I met him tonight.”
“Really?”
This was a mistake. Todd shoveled the cheesecake into his mouth. Introducing a woman to his mom on the first date? What was he thinking?
But that was the whole problem. He wasn’t.
His mom had been bugging him to come over for cheesecake, he wanted to spend more time with Becky, and it all somehow got mixed up in his head.
I’m not a momma’s boy, he wanted to yell. “I’m wild and dangerous.” The two ladies stared at him. Oh, crap, he had yelled that. “Good cheesecake, mom,” was his lame recovery.
Becky’s smile widened. “Very good cheesecake.” He felt a hand pat his thigh. Was that a pity pat? No, it couldn’t be. Pity pats were one pat and then away. Her hand stayed there. A few inches higher and…
“We have to go.” He shot out of his seat, toppling his chair.
Becky caught up with Todd outside. He leaned against the house, head back, eyes closed. “You must think I’m a psychopath.”
“Because you talk to your mother?” She laughed. “No. I talk to my mother also. That doesn’t make me crazy… I think.” Though around him, she felt a little crazy. Crazy and attractive and beautiful especially when, his eyes opened, he looked at her like that, like she was the center of the universe. “I think you’re-”
He pressed a finger against her lips. “Don’t say nice, anything but nice.”
She blinked as he pulled that finger away. Nice? Some woman described Mr. Greek god as nice? Well, maybe… Her eyes grew dreamy. “Too bad because I do think you’re nice,” she lowered her voice, trying for husky, “nice with a little ice cream. But if you don’t want to hear it…” She shrugged and walked past him, down the steps, adding an extra wiggle to her walk.
He followed. “What flavor?”
“What?” She attempted nonchalance when really her heat beat so loudly, she was surprised the neighbors didn’t complain.
“What flavor do you think I go well with?” He caught up, opening the car door for her. “Probably vanilla,” he grumbled.
“You have a lot to learn about baking, Todd.” She released an exaggerated sigh, looking up into his handsome face. “You can’t just blend flavors willy nilly. You have to taste and test.” She kissed his chin. That was as high up as she could reach. “Taste and test.” He lowered his face so she could brush her lips against his. “Taste and test.”
Todd may have a lot to learn but he learned quickly. He took over the tasting.
Basketball’s LeBron James is having a busy fall.
He is doing the media rounds promoting his new book
(and I LOVE that he talks about his friends
more than he talks about himself)
and he has a movie out about him in October.
Here he mixes it up with a tan jacket
over a untucked blue checked shirt.
It says casual (and picnic)
and approachable,
offsetting his rather imposing height.
Photo Taken By Whats Yr Prblm, Jerk?
(See Link For Copyright Information)
“Today’s a write-off for baking, I’m afraid.” Becky stared at the road in front of them. She had to. Because if she didn’t, she’d stare at Todd. The man was Gorgeous with a capital ‘g.’ “Would you like me to help you put the stuff away?” Please say yes. She didn’t want to leave him yet.
“I should be able to handle that.” Humor in his voice.
“Ohhh…” She thought, but no, she pulled down on her too-tight shirt, she must have read the signs all wrong.
“Do you like cheesecake?”
Maybe not all wrong. “What girl doesn’t?”
“Good. I know where we can get the best cheesecake in town, no, not the best, you make the best, I mean a good cheesecake, at least I like it, but then I’m not a chef or anything and I may be partial…”
She glanced his way. He looked almost nervous, his hands slapping the steering wheel as he rambled on and on, his face getting redder and redder. “I’d love to try it.”
“You would?” He sounded surprised. “Of course, you would.” She frowned. What did he mean by that? “I mean, cheesecake is your job.” A pause. “Not that this is a job thing. It isn’t. Don’t feel like you have to eat cheesecake with me because I’m your client. You can say no.”
Becky laughed. He WAS nervous. The Greek god was nervous about asking her, plump, ordinary Becky out. “I don’t want to say no.” She placed a hand over top his on the steering wheel. “And this may be unprofessional but I don’t think of you as a client,” she took the chance on confessing.
His eyes widened and he grinned. “You want something other than cheesecake?”
It was her turn to blush. “I might but let’s start with that.”
Patrick Swayze in 1989,
looking dapper
in a crisp, classic tux.
Photo Taken By Alan Light
(See Link For Copyright Information)