Forever Yours…almost available by Emilia Mancini

Not that I’m trying to be like Moni or anything…that that could ever be a bad thing!…but I’m gonna share with you my own little gem that’s available for pre-order. Yes, I’ve already shared the cover for Forever Yours and all that, but now you can pre-order and that’s even more exciting. Isn ‘t it?

This was a bit challenging as the maximum word count for this series is 18K. I had to rein myself in a little with this, but I love the outcome. I hope you like it too. It’s a sweet little Finally Ever Aver installment for Musa Publishing.

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Blurb:

Four years ago John Howard made the biggest mistake of his life. He walked away from the only woman he’d ever loved. Now he’s back, older and wiser, and all he needs is a little forgiveness and a second chance.

The last thing Megan Carter needs is to be reminded how much John hurt her. When she literally falls into his arms, the pain of his rejection resurfaces with a vengeance. John is best friends with Meg’s brother-in-law, making it impossible to avoid him so Meg agrees to put her anger aside. That, however, doesn’t mean she’s forgotten.

Despite John’s attempts to fix their relationship, Meg is determined not to give him another chance to break her heart. But how can she possibly resist him when all her heart wants is the love she lost so long ago?

Excerpt:

 

Meg used the spatula to point to the living room. She ignored the sound of pasta sauce and chunks of melted cheese splattering on the tile floor. “You go in there right now and tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

“Oh, my God.” Meg rolled her head back and closed her eyes.

“Look at me. Meg.”

When Meg opened her eyes, she was surprised at the sheen of tears there.

“I’m not saying you have to like him, but you will have to learn how to be around him. Peacefully. And not just because this is a small town. I am not going to have my baby born with so much animosity in this family.”

“He is not your family. I am.”

“He’s the closest thing Steven has to a brother. That makes you guys aunt and uncle to this little one and I will not have you hating each other around her.”

Meg dropped the spatula and started for the door. “I can’t. I can’t.”

Suzanna waddled after her sister. “Wait, damn it.”

Meg stopped abruptly. The sound of a deep familiar voice on the other side of the door sent a shiver running through her.

Suzanna, unable to stop as quickly, hit Meg in the back with her stomach. “Ugh. What now?”

Meg turned and said with a panicked whisper, “He’s out there.” She glanced around the kitchen desperately, like a trapped animal, until she spotted the back door. “I’ll go that way.”

“You don’t have your coat.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Or your car keys.”

Meg’s hope faded. “Damn you, Suzanna!”

“Honey, just go out there and say hello.”

The urge to strangle Suzanna took over. It was a feeling Meg had fought for the better part of her life. She took a deep breath to calm herself. She was about to tell her sister to distract John so she could sneak out, but before Meg could speak, Suzanna put her hands to Meg’s shoulders and shoved. Meg squealed as she tumbled backwards through the swinging door.

The unexpected push from Suzanna and Meg’s extremely high heels were a near-lethal combination. Meg tripped over her own feet, reaching out for the door in a failed attempt to stop herself from falling. She was anticipating a hard landing on the pinewood floor but instead, she fell into two arms. The strong limbs encircled her from behind and stopped her from bruising her ass.

Meg closed her eyes and exhaled slowly as a mix of relief and dread washed through her. The room was silent and it seemed time had stopped until the man who had caught her gently lifted her to stand upright.

Meg held her breath as she slowly turned. As she expected, John was staring at her with his mouth hanging open.

 

No Secrets Is Available for Pre-Order

LSB Cover Art Template for PhotoShopBook 4 in my Coven of the Wolf series written as Rae Morgan will be available as a stand-alone for the first time on March 10, 2014. (It was previously in the anthology, Edge of Night.)

It is now available for pre-order at Liquid Silver Books and you can save 20%.

Order here.

If you haven’t read the previous three Coven books, you should still be able to read and understand the story line in this novella length story of Sheriff Debby Teague, a reluctant witch with enormous power,  and Boris Petrov, a shape shifter (his animal form is a Russian Wolfhound).

Here’s the LINK to the series page at Liquid Silver Books.

Blurb for No Secrets:

Sheriff Debby Teague fled to Bear Hollow, Tennessee after saving the lives of Boris Petrov, her destined life partner, and his sister-in-law Selena Jones-Petrov (in Treading the Labyrinth). All she wants is her normal, mundane, non-magical life back, but Fate–and Boris Petrov–have other plans for her.

Boris is not happy Debby ran from him, but he understands why she did. But enough is enough. Danger surrounds her in her “safe” little tourist town, and Debby will need him—and the magical ability she denies—to survive.

Dark magick has come to Bear Hollow, and its followers don’t intend to allow Debby to ignore them–or her own dark magick.

Excerpt:

Every night since Debby had left him in Southern Illinois, Boris visited and, like an incubus, made mad, passionate love to her. Never mind the fact her sensual tormentor was physically hundreds of miles away in Chicago and she was in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. Never mind that she’d told him repeatedly she didn’t want him. Never mind that she’d reluctantly resorted to every defensive dark magick trick in the book, and some she’d made up, to forestall his nightly assault on her mind and body. He still visited and with only slight variations in technique, made carnal love to her on the highest levels of the astral plane.

Tonight he was late. Stupid fool that she was, she called him on it, as if she really cared. And she didn’t! Of course she didn’t.

“You’re late. Hot date?” Debby said.

“You missed me, bébé?”

“No. In fact, I was relieved.”

Boris snorted. “Liar. I’m growing on you, admit it, little hell cat.”

Boris’s astral body reached for her. Debby slapped his hand away and stepped back. Putting what she hoped was a look of disdain on her face, she drawled, “Growing on me? Yeah, like an icky, smelly fungus.”

“Debby, my beloved one, you love me, but are just too stubborn to admit it.”

“I don’t love you, Bo. Get away from me…” She backpedaled and came up against a stone wall that hadn’t been there two seconds earlier. That was the thing about dreams and the astral plane–real world physics went all to hell.

Trapped, she growled, “Get over yourself and leave me the hell alone. I’m sure there are lots of women in Chicago you can torment on a nightly basis. Some of us need our sleep, because we have a job to do.”

“Actions speak louder than words, bébé. So let’s see just how much you hate my love-making, eh?”

Within the space of a millisecond, Boris’s astral body swept Debby’s dream self into a garden on the astral plane, high above the psychic-vamps and unaware dreamers trolling the lower levels. Her clothes whisked away by his thoughts, Debby was open to his sensual assault, once again helpless to fight him off.

Each night it was the same. It was as if her astral body wouldn’t listen to her higher brain, the part of herself that knew Boris and all that he represented was bad for her. Instead some primitive part of her psyche drove her dreams, allowing her to become a helpless victim to Boris’s lovemaking.

Lately, in the pale gray of early morning after a night of indescribable, passionate sex, there were times she second-guessed herself. Maybe she was fighting Boris and herself far too hard. Maybe she could live with him, make a family, and perform magick. Then the bright dawn of reason arrived with the morning sun and she convinced herself yet again that turning her back on him and his magical world was the best thing she could do for herself–and for the world. Never again could she allow herself to lose control of the cursed powers she possessed. Yes, she’d helped rescue Selena, Gor, and Boris from the dark magician Darius, but the use of her powers, grown greater with age, both attracted and repelled her. Call her a coward, but she couldn’t face the horrifying darkness within her.

So she’d run home to her safe little world.

The Coven followed her–and Boris wooed her nightly.

“Little one, you are not paying attention. I am nibbling your neck and stroking your pussy lips, but you are miles away. I am distraught.”

Boris inserted a finger, then two, into her vaginal opening, stroking and spreading her wetness over her puffy labia. Every few seconds, he’d flick her needy clit as if to announce he was there and wasn’t leaving until he got the reaction he desired. Horny, sensual bastard.

“Distraught? That’ll be the day. If you must know, I was thinking of England.”

Boris laughed. His lips moved from her hyper-sensitive neck to her turgid nipples. He licked, then bit first one and then the other until they were rosy and wet. All the while he increased the stroking of her sex. Already her body tightened as her arousal heightened. The tension was so great she had to remind herself to breathe, just as she fought not to react, not to allow him to control her body.

It was a useless battle. He’d proven in the past he could arouse her no matter how hard she tried not to respond. Each night she vowed to lie still like a stone statue, and each night she ended up moaning, groaning and shouting his name to the alternate reality sky. The only thing she’d been successful at was denying him the words he wished to hear–and even those had come pretty damn close to the surface. But somehow she’d managed not to give him the words of love he wanted so badly. She couldn’t love him. She wouldn’t allow it. It was too dangerous.

A long talented finger stroked her G-spot. Debby moaned. The man knew how to push her buttons. If the sex was this good out-of-body, she figured she’d never survive the real thing.

Research Can Kill Your Deadlines!

jianne_carlo_img_avatarOne of my favorite author activities is research. Unfortunately, research’s not a double-edged sword, but more a kazillion-edged one.

Research is exponential. You start off by looking up the exact date an event occurred, and the Google search engine gives you six different sites. Of course, being a conscientious and ethical writer, you must read and compare each site.

The first webpage mentions a precursor to the incident, and you need to know if it will impact on your storyline. So, off you go, and the whole scenario’s repeated ad infinitum. All of a sudden your carefully carved out block of writing time’s over and family and work responsibilities demand your attention.

Sound familiar to those of you who hold down day jobs?

There are so many other distractions, email, blogging, author loops, Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, Goodreads…I could go on forever. Add to that the pressure to devote time to marketing and — did I get in five minutes today?

We haven’t even touched on the notion of an actual social life.

I’m not what you could remotely call a social butterfly, networking or otherwise. By nature, I’m reclusive, and the strain to engage at large wirelessly makes my stomach clench and jerk. In 2013, sheer peer pressure made me cave, and I attempted to master too much at once. I spread myself thin and my writing suffered.

Not happening in 2014. In terms of my author persona, I have but two goals:

1.     Writing—No matter what I will write 1000 words 5 days a week.

2.    Research—If I’m in the middle of writing, and I need to look up a fact, instead of scooting online, I’ll simply insert three question marks. After I’ve completed my daily quota, then, and only then, will I research the point in question.

That’s it. Nada else.

According to the experts, it takes six weeks to either break or make a habit. So, I’ll report back to you on my blog on April 14, 2014 on whether I’ve stuck to my resolve.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!!!  Shamrock

Cheers,

Jianne

In celebration of “real” men.

As I flit through the social media and romance channels, I hear so much about celebrating “real” women in romance literature. Heck, I have spouted off on this topic myself. However, it occurred to me that I’ve never read anything about celebrating real men.

Does it seem strange to do so? After all, romance is all about those buff, impossibly-delicious dudes who curl our toes. You know, the kinds who don’t exist so we authors have to create them.

Notwithstanding the perfect abs, full heads of hair and penchant for saving their women, I’d be willing to bet my last dollar that most of these unreal book boyfriends had their origins in some very real men. And why not? When I consider the real men who’ve been in my life, I’m struck by a few things.

Yes, they sometimes aggravate us. Sometimes they sit on the couch too much and hog the remote (unlike my hubby who thrusts it at me every chance he gets. The remote, that is.) Our real men often have hairy backs and don’t comment when we lose a few pounds. Oh, and there was that time they forgot our anniversary. Yes, real men sometimes drive us up the wall.

But they have their advantages too, don’t they?

They sometimes come home with flowers, for no reason. Conversely, they sometimes bring us chocolates because they remember we’re allergic to flowers. My hubby always fills my mug with coffee, before filling his own. And even though his body clock often wakes him up at the crack of dawn, he always lets me sleep in on the weekends. Yes, some of our men are losing their hair, but they make up for it by gazing at us with those eyes that first snared us. They may not growl “Mine” like a shifter, or make us immortal like a vampire, but they snuggle with us on the couch and don’t complain when we eat the last serving of ice cream. They shovel the snow off our walks and fill our cars with gas and in many cases, they provide for us. They are fathers to our children and help with homework, or corralling the kids at a birthday party. Our real men do all the sweet, little gestures our book boyfriends never seem to do. Granted, the book boyfriends are too busy saving the world as we know it.

And that’s okay, because I’m quite happy residing in that world with my real man.

White Collar Cowboy – Cover Reveal

Happy Thursday naughty readers! It’s cover reveal time! But, before I get to that, my lovely assistant, Carla Gallway, has opened my street team – Kincadia. I’m super excited about this – and I’ve got lots of fun things planned for street team members – including, but not limited too – monthly giveaways, ARC’s and special “street-team” exclusive merchandise!

To join, simply go to https://www.facebook.com/groups/191546531055689

Okay – now on to serious business! Here’s the cover for White Collar Cowboy, coming March 4th!

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Gavin Mathis is ready to settle down. He’s quit his job and come home to Shadow Maverick Ranch to do just that. Too bad his decision caused his beautiful former colleague to lose her job.

Lauren Delgado is a no-nonsense businesswoman. She’s had a crush on Gavin for years, but has a strict “hand-off” policy with the men she works with. When her life takes an unexpected turn, there’s nothing to stop her from accepting his invitation to Galveston Island, where the policy is definitely hands-on.

What do y’all think?

Until next time…

 

What are you reading?

It’s no secret that I read a lot. According to Goodreads, I’ve read 37 books so far this year. (my goal is 250–will I make it? We’ll see!) Most of those have been M/M romance, though I have read some M/F romance and some mysteries and such as well. I thought that, rather than talk about my own books this week (with the exception of letting you Hostile Beauty fans know that Levi and Andrew are smuttin’ it up in a free short over on my blog), I’d share some of my favorites out of those 37 books I’ve read so far this year–and ask for your recommendations for what to read next!

Yesterday, I read Strain by Amelia C. Gormley. Strain is a post-apocalyptic adventure with zombies, religious zealotry, group sex, dubious consent, and lots of HGOGA. (hot guy on guy action, for those of you not familiar with Vanessa’s long list of filthy acronyms) It was FANTASTIC. One of the best books I’ve read this year, one of the best zombie dystopian stories I’ve ever read, and just smokin’ hot all over. Seriously a 5-star, highly recommended read from me.

A few days before that, I read Tailor Made by Josephine Myles. Tailor Made is a hot little contemporary novella about an art student who enlists the help of a fashion student on his final project–and seduces the shy virgin in the process. This book is adorable. It’s so fun, and so very hot, and so sweet, I just want to hug it and love it forever. The first book to make it to my oh-so-exclusive “favorites” shelf this year.

The first week in February, the AMAZING Heidi Cullinan re-released Special Delivery. I had never read the original and was therefore chomping at the bit to get my hands on it when the new edition released. The tagline is “when your deepest darkest fantasy shows up, get on board.” Many of you know that Heidi’s book Nowhere Ranch is one of my most favorite books ever–and Special Delivery is in that same vein of kink. Humiliation, BDSM, voyeurism, multiple partners… in other words? More fun than you can shake a stick at. But what really got me in this on was the FEELZ. I was a happy, teary mess at the end of this book. So good. So, so good.

Okay… well, I could go on and on. I’ve read some amazing books already this year. So, what do you think I should read next? Something sweet? Something kinky? Have a rec? Let me know in the comments!

xoxo,

V

Cover Reveal for Redeemed!

Redeemed_Becca_Jameson_500x800So, Completed just came out and it’s doing fantastic. The next book in the series is Redeemed and it releases on March 6. The cover is smokin’ hot! And, yes, I’m working on the fifth book, Abandoned, as we speak!

Here the blurb for Redeemed:

Acknowledging her true mate is her only chance for redemption…

Ashley Rice is broken. After being rescued from the clutches of a crazed shifter who kept her drugged and malleable for four years, she is recovering with the help of her family and a psychologist.

Evan Harmon is the private investigator who rescued her. At the moment of escape, he knew she was his mate. Fighting his own instinctual need to take his Fated mate, he keeps that detail to himself to allow her time to heal.

Six months later, at his breaking point, Evan attends a dinner at Ashley’s brother’s house, where he knows their relationship will be instantly revealed.

But Ashley has a long road ahead of her. She is reluctant to enter into a relationship with anyone, including the man she knows in her soul is her mate. She doesn’t believe she is worthy and she needs more time.

In addition, the man who held Ashley is still on the loose. She lives a life in fear of being found and dragged back into an existence she can no longer fathom.

And there are bigger concerns. Who provided her abductor with the drugs and is the entire event a part of a larger conspiracy?

When neither Ashley nor Evan can stand their separation any longer and realization dawns that mating isn’t something that can be denied, Ashley and Evan enter into a constrained relationship that explodes into a claiming neither of them expected.

But Evan has his own secrets, and Ashley suffers from agoraphobia. Can the two of them climb these hurdles and come out together?

To read an excerpt, visit the Redeemed page on my site. 🙂

Becca

Cupid’s Arrow!

Cupids_Arrow-Jianne_Carlo-200x320optHow about beginning Merry Monday with a hot excerpt from my Valentine release — Cupid’s Arrow? Isn’t the cover drool-worthy? It’s all the work of the multi-talented Georgia Woods. I love the red nails and, as for that kissable chest—sigh.

Excerpt from Cupid’s Arrow:
Gawd, he had the most perfect smile. Suppose she messed this up again?

The boy-mischief-maker grin she loved faded. “What’s wrong? Why the frown?”

“Nothing,” she blurted. “Snowed by the famous Gallagher charm, I guess.”

What an asinine thing to say. If only she knew how to flirt.

He pressed his lips into a thin line. “It failed totally with you.”

She snorted. “As if.”

Geeze, the man shone brighter than the Florida sun when he flashed that uneven grin. “Really? I know you didn’t hate me at the beginning. But, after…I never could quite figure out what I’d done wrong.”

Her heart did a little jig against her ribs at Eli’s slight stammer and the grim lines bracketing his mouth. Eli? Insecure?

Stephanie felt for his hand and gave his fingers a little squeeze. She tiptoed, cupped a hand over his ear, and whispered, “It didn’t. Fail. The charm, I mean.”

For a brief moment their gazes met. He thumbed her knuckles and brushed his lips over them. The heat blazing between them consumed all the oxygen in her lungs. They didn’t speak another word until Eli helped her through the hotel’s revolving door.

A brisk wind tunneled up from the bay and whipped Stephanie’s hair against her cheeks. She craned her head back and sniffed the air. “It’s a nice change from Bradenton. The cooler temps here, I mean.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. Damn it. Would she ever be able to carry on a normal conversation with him?

“Steph?” He tipped her chin up, and she blinked him into focus. “You changing your mind? About us? About the second chance?”

She shook her head too choked up to formulate a vocal reply.

“What, then? Why are you looking so scared? Talk to me. Please?”

He looked about ready to explode. All bunched and hunched, his nostrils flaring like crazy. “Steph?”

“Nerves. Kind of wonder if I’m dreaming this. You could have any woman you want. I’m so not your type.” Omigod, had that stupidity really jumped out of her?

He wrapped a lock of her hair around his finger and held her gaze, direct and unflinching. “I’m crazy about you. Have been from the start. You blindsided me. I’ve never felt like this before. I have a couple pairs of sneakers hidden in my bottom desk drawer. I got Daphne in production to tell me your shoe size. My sisters funked them up for you. You know glued these crazy buttons and stuck glass beads on ‘em.”

“You bought me shoes?” Stephanie gaped as a deep blush stained Eli’s cheeks. She repeated his words in her head. “Wait. Your sisters know about me?”

“Nope. Yes. Fu—frick. Which one’s the right answer?” He wore a frantic, panicked expression.

A tidal wave of happiness welled in Stephanie’s chest and mushroomed through every inch of flesh. He had bought her shoes. Shoes. “The truth.”

“I bought you shoes. My sisters and my mom know about you.” He scuffed his handmade boots and scowled at the sidewalk.

Stephanie’s grin widened and she suspected that any moment her heart would leap right out of her mouth. “Say that again.”

“I’m crazy about you. It’s TMI, isn’t it? I’d promised myself to go slow. To not scare you—”

She flew at him and hurdled herself into his arms. “Shut up and kiss me, you big lug.”

He snagged her waist and squeezed her tight. “Yes ma’am.”

There, right there, on Nob Hill in front of a kazillion passersby, Eli kissed the stuffing out of Stephanie. He cupped her face between his warm calloused palms and his hot, amazing tongue sent electric shivers shooting from her scalp to her toes. No clumsy, frenzied lip locking, but a slow, leisurely sparking exploration of her mouth. She sagged into him lost in the wonder of his sensual stroking.

Here’s hoping the teaser started your day with a smile!

Cheers,

Jianne

Author Spotlight – Josie Cara

Good morning, my lovelies! Happy Saturday – here’s a sale!

IN A HEARTBEAT Promo Button

In a Heartbeat

When debilitating headaches and strange nightmares start wreaking havoc on budding artist Josie Bryant’s life, she begins a downward spiral into depression and helplessness. Her once heavenly relationship with her fiancé – gallery owner Ethan Donnelly – starts to fall apart, and everything Josie held dear starts to systematically fall away.

After startling information is received about Josie’s past, she and Ethan embark on a quest to gather as much information as possible in a last ditch effort to save their relationship, and possibly Josie’s life. 
Unfortunately, sometimes things are better left alone. Will Josie be able to handle the truth? Will her lifelong need for a loving family be realized, and if so, is it worth the cost? Can Josie and Ethan’s love really conquer all, or will it all come crashing down in a New York minute?

ON SALE FOR $0.99 on February 14th and 15th ONLY!

Amazon.com / Amazon.ca / Amazon.uk/

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Josie CaraJosie Cara lives in NYC with her family and two King Charles Cavalier dogs, Zak and Zoe. Her love of books has always been a big part of her life but  she never had the time, between working and caring for her children, to concentrate on writing. Now she has the time to take all the stories she’s been writing in her head and put them down on paper; something her family and friends have been encouraging her to do for some time. A whole new world has opened up to her and she is enjoying every minute of it.

Connect with Josie:

Website:  http://www.josiecarabooks.com/

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/JosieCaraAuthor

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/JosieCaraAuthor

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7248495.Josie_Cara

School dances, girls dresses, and a soapbox by Emilia Mancini

I apologize for getting my post up late. I was up until midnight living the life of a PTSA mom. It’s as glamorous as being a PTA mom, but now we are middle school parent volunteers and have do things like chaperon Valentine’s Day dances.

Now, I think we can all agree given that I write erotica and sell sex toys, I’m not exactly a stick in the mud. I’m pretty laid back as a parent and feel like my twelve year old has a lot of freedom…consistent with what a twelve year old can handle.

That being said, this mama is stepping on a soapbox. This is a rant, a parental rant, a feministic rant, and while this may not be the right audience, I have to ask…I just have to know…Why are so many twelve year old girls showing up at school dances dressed like hos going out clubbing? Skin-tight mini-skirts with tank tops and stilettos? High-heeled knee-high boots with strapless thigh-length dresses? All paired with makeup reminiscent of a cheap hooker? At a middle school dance? When the dress code was casual?

Moms, what are you doing to your daughters? This isn’t cute. This isn’t cute at all. I am all for women feeling sexy when they go out to party, but your little girl is not a woman. She is a little girl. She shouldn’t be dressing sexy. She’s not old enough to be dressing sexy. She shouldn’t even own sexy clothes!

I know they’re young, I know they’re still growing and testing the waters and all that. But we parents are there to provide guidance and encouragement, we need to take that seriously and that doesn’t always mean going with “what’s cool” and letting your child wear whatever she wants. Sometimes it means reminding her that she’s not grown up yet and some things aren’t appropriate for her yet.

If the mom who writes erotica is shaking her head at your daughter’s outfit, it may be a little too skimpy. Just sayin’.

So as a writer of hot, steamy sex books; as a woman who hates what society is teaching our girls; and as a mom who is fighting this battle right beside you, I implore you to think about the message you’re giving your twelve-year-old daughter when you let her dress like the only thing she has to offer the world is her body.

Here’s what very little girl—every almost woman—should to know:

Despite what our culture tells you, there are better ways to get the attention you want than showing off your body. There are great things, wonderful things you can do with your mind, and there are wonderful men who will like you for the right reasons. Those guys will make you feel beautiful no matter what you wear, even sweats and a t-shirt. And on those occasions when you do dress sexy for him, you’re going to blow his mind and he’ll let you know it…respectfully. Because catcalls from boys isn’t respect. It isn’t the kind of attention you want. Catcalls aren’t a show of affection. They are a show of disrespect, of possession, by man-boys who have no idea how to treat a woman. Do not lower yourself to this, do not put yourself into this mold that society has made for you. You are better than that, you deserve better than that, but this world will not give it to you unless you demand it.

So go out there in age appropriate clothing and demand it.

 

Hibernation by Monette Michaels

Yes, tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and I wish you all a wonderfully fabulous day with your loved one.  And while I am a romance author and could easily dash off a blog all about love and sex (BTW, I’m in favor of love and sex) … I have hibernation on my mind.

The word hibernation is derived from the verb hibernate which is defined as “To pass the winter  in a dormant or torpid state.”  [American Heritage College Dictionary (1993)] The word’s origin is from the Latin hibernus, meaning “of winter.” The Indo-European (yes, I studied Linguistics in college — LOVED IT!) root is ghei-*, which is defined as theoretical base of ghiem which became the Latin base word hiems or winter, which variant eventually evolved to hibernus. Got to love evolution of the English language.

So, why is this on my mind? — so much so that I looked up root words.

That dormant and torpid state mentioned in the definition?  I am so relating to that. I have no energy. No desire to leave my house to shop for Valentine’s goodies. No urge to get all gussied up and go out to dinner with my Valentine of forty-four years.  All I want to do is hibernate. Well, figuratively hibernate, because unlike bears and other animals that actually hibernate, I can’t suppress my metabolism in order to conserve energy (Factoid:  animals do this to survive during times when food is scarce).

Why?  Because this has been the coldest winter in Indiana in a long, long time.  I just want to stay inside and vegetate. I’m fairly sure that the terms “dormant” and “torpor” cover that feeling.

So, while tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, there’ll be no sexy little black dress and candlelit dinner at some chic romantic restaurant for me.  I’ll be hibernating in my big cushy chair, in my warmest jammies,  under a blanket, with my cat on my lap (best lap warmer ever!), and a good book in my hand.

Or maybe, I’ll be nesting under the covers with my sweetie.  He’s been known to keep me warm also.    *wink wink*

[You knew I’d get back to the love and sex, now didn’t you?]