I wonder if I’ll ever run out of things to say. If the time will come when I will wake up, pour a cup of tea, and just like when my fingers strain for the last few tiles in a Scrabble bag, I’ll start running out and eventually I’ll be done. Maybe a person is…
I bought a lilac bush. My need for lilacs started when I grabbed a bunch at the store a few weeks ago. They were fresh cut, right off the bush and when I put them into water, the smell was heaven. I forgot about lilacs, forgot that I loved the rain-soaked sweetness of them.…
Beginnings are such fun. Every time I start a new story, I appreciate the open space. There’s breathing room and all of the doors are open. I have a general idea of my characters, at least my hero and heroine, but decisions have yet to made. I love that. After I am finished with a…
I’m in a Paul Newman/Stevie Wonder mood. Look out. Paul is always on my list of best men. I do have a list. Yes, I know Paul is no longer with us, but he is on the island (See Well Dressed). He’s still very much alive and writing seriously romantic love letters to his wonderful wife, Joanne, until…
I have never been a fan of Valentine’s Day. “It’s cheap and cheesy.” That’s what I always say, or, “It’s a Hallmark holiday, for guys that need a reason to be romantic.” Valentine’s Day is my oldest daughter’s favorite holiday. I’m not sure how that happened, it must stem from the little valentine bags we used…
I love winter mornings. They take their time, a slow and easy build to the day. Summer and Spring mornings are too peppy for me. They jump right into sunrise with a feisty brush of the moon. I need time, a few more minutes with night before I have to say goodbye and good morning.…
A few months ago, I posted my lament that many of the men in romance were…an odd combination of alpha and librarian that I did not recognize in any world, let alone the real one. Alys, recommended that I read The Rosie Project and it’s wonderfully off center hero, Don. I read it, loved it, and…
Fogged windows, twists and turns. It started as a kiss, a taste, but a soft moan swept her ear and she knew. She wanted. His knee hit the gear shift, they laughed to tears. His eyes danced, and she knew. She loved.
I am usually a hand person. I like rough hands, callus, classic working hands. It’s often the first physical thing I notice about a man, even before the obvious eyes, lips or arms. My body part observations vary based my mood, or where I’m at in the story I am writing. I’m into necks lately.…