Dogs Know

Chloe look-a-like from the web.

 

 

My dogs know something is up. They are behaving themselves and stepping lightly around my body that is tucked up on the large wing chair, rather than sprawled out on my Tommy Bahama sofa, where we normally pile up most nights and watch TV as a group. Things are different this week. I had surgery on Monday. The dogs can not jump on me. They watch with gentle eyes and go back to sleeping on anything other than me. A sense that I am not quite well has taken over their normal wild ways, and they wait patiently for this to pass, and life to get back to normal.

 

They are not allowed in the bedroom just yet either. Our ritual of running down the hall, jumping on the bed, each dog in the exact spot they have slept on over the years, has changed. A temporary change. Again, they understand and wait.

 

Except for Chloe, my little eight pound Chihuahua. She did well with the pack in the sunroom, the room I spend my days on the computer, Tuesday night, my first night home from the hospital. Wednesday night we had a dog freak-out. In the wee morning hours Chloe started to screech at the top of her tiny lungs. I eased myself out of bed, the way they showed me in the hospital to stretch and roll to get my feet on the floor, than padded down the hallway to see what had happened to cause the ruckus. I opened the door and Chloe flew out like a rabid animal, dashing up and down the hallway, her eyes bugging out of her fawn colored head, that tiny pink tongue poking out of her mouth, her ears pinned back and low. She ran one end to another, then sprinted up on my bed and ran in circles until she dropped on my quilt, exhausted.

 

I went back down the hall and closed the sunroom door, as five heads poked up, five tales wagged, and five dogs continued to huddle together, sleeping, undisturbed by the sounds of an eight pound dog gone crazy.

 

Chloe would not leave the bed. And I decided she did not have to. I moved onto my bed in a sitting position, then eased down to sleep. Chloe curled up by my side. Her breathing gentle now. Her forever place by my side secured.  We both slept quietly and deeply until the morning.

 

Week one of surgery almost behind me. Things are going well thanks to my friends who have brought me food,  a pet-sitter who comes by to feed the dogs and let them out several times a day, and a pack of silly hounds who have surprised me yet again with life lessons on understanding.

 

 

 

"Danger In Her Words" Published In Time For Valentine's Day. A Romantic Romp!

 

Paperback on Amazon. Kindle coming week of February 17th.

 

 

The best of news on a snowed-in day in Georgia. My book is now available on Amazon. A work of fiction, a bit girly, sassy, sexy, and fun, I am so happy to have finished it. My life since spring has been centered on writing, re-writing, and editing. An anticipated publication date of Christmas with a marketing theme of 'naughty or nice' got postponed until Valentine's Day.  I think it is the perfect romp for the most romantic holiday of the year!

 

 

 

 

 

A TV sitcom pitch gone wrong turns dog-column writer Susan Meyers in a tailspin. Sex Sells was the topic of the day at the writers’ convention. Susan decided to try something new and a steamy romantic novel seemed just the answer. A widow who hadn’t dated in three years, Susan was out of practice with men and sex. She turned to an online dating site to find inspiration for her book and unleashed a predator with the words she wrote. Tucked an hour away from her friends in a small town where she kept to herself, with only her tiny dog for company, Susan felt safe from the world. Little did she know her life was about to change.

 

 A romp of a story about writing and finding yourself in this book within a book. If you love girl-talk, farmhouses, antiques, country towns, a touch of murder, a sprinkle of suspense, and a bit of naughty fun, come join Susan as she learns about life from her character Jamie. Two widows looking for love in all the wrong places might still get it right if they live long enough.

 

 

Book and cover design by pd king design. Published by Gilbert Street Press.

Christmas - A Little Bit Of This A Little Bit Of That

Primitive White Cupboard with Christmas Toys

 

 

As much as I love glitz in some things, I love a country old fashion Christmas. When I used to set up at the Lakewood Fairgrounds south of Atlanta, I loved their holiday show in October. My booth that last year  had an old red iron bed, quilts in red and green, a dark brown cupboard, Charlie Brown Christmas trees with lights that twinkled on the tall skinny trees with their long thin trunks and shelves full of vintage toys . . .  bears, china head dolls and handmade rag dolls. The funkier they looked, the more the charm.

I haven't changed in the years since the show closed. I wish I had kept the red iron bed with its chipped paint and rust! Not that I would have had a place for it, but I could have stored it in the shed and brought it out at Christmas to prop in the yard and scare my neighbors!

 

I started putting out my decorations between edits on my new book. A gal needs a distraction in the middle of such concentration! Two early China Head dolls, an antique jointed bear and a hand crafted black Santa, dressed in a vintage quilt, sit nicely in front of a chipped green paint short shutter. The old white cupboard was a purchase years ago made over a pay phone at Barnes & Noble to my antique dealer friend who was not in the shop and I had to secure my purchase. Pay phones...hmmm, that was a long time ago! But the memory is fresh in my mind!

 

I managed to pop into The Last Chance Thrift Shop on Tuesday and found a few Christmas treasures. The snowman wreath was $1.99. I had to glue a few glitter balls on it to fill in where others had fallen off. I found two huge bags of Christmas ornaments, the funny plastic kind that are inexpensive new, but my shopping good luck netted the two bags for $1.59 each. One was full of red balls, the other large white ones.

 

The mantle in my kitchen has more thrift store ornaments. The silly garden girl was $1.99 and the Christmas balls came from that $1.59 sack mentioned above.

 

This year I may be the laziest gal in town. I am tucking ornaments in with decorative items I keep up year round. I pulled down my boxes from the attic, opened them up, smiled at the lovely things I saw and closed the lid. My house will be festive, but in a slightly different way this year. I'll be posting photos as I go.

 

My dogs are very interested in the flurry of activity with boxes stacked and ribbons flying through the air. Last year my tall white tree did not catch their attention, but I sense boredom on their part with all the rain we've had, and they may need a romp through the house to be naughty dogs even though the sun is bright today. We'll see how they do!

 

The very last photo is from last year. My tree in the sunroom by my computer. It is a favorite of mine. Chloe dreams of a stocking full of milk bones!

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

Writing About Sex OMG

Graphic from 123RF

 

I am obsessed with sex at the moment. Sex is on my mind day and night. I wish I could talk to someone about it. No, not a therapist, another writer. I am in the midst of my first work of fiction, an erotic thriller.  

I am out of my comfort zone, but learning how to deal with it.  

The idea for my book started a year ago. I wrote ten thousand words, then let it alone. I kidded my friends I was writing porn (which is what it seemed like to me) and had started smoking and drinking Jack Black as I sat at the computer at night. I don’t do either, but laughed myself silly with the image in my mind.  I wrote a funny article for an on-line site about trying to write erotica. A tongue in cheek piece. I couldn’t decide where to put the tongue in my erotica, so I made a joke of it, got a bit of mileage, and put my story on the back burner until I was mature enough to make it work. 

 A few months ago I decided it was time to bring the book out of the closet. Sex is integral to the plot (no spoiler here, but trust me, the book would be stupid without sex if you knew the storyline.) But I wanted clean erotica. Now there is a challenge. How to make my book work, make it hot, but just not so graphic it kills the rest of the story. 

I feel like a tease on her first date. A virgin trying to lose her virginity. Should I or shouldn’t I? 

I read and reread the chapters. I’ve cleaned it up so much I startled myself on the last go-round. Yet I still blush at some of the scenes and wonder where did that come from? 

I don’t want sex to drive the story. Yet, without it, there is no story.  It is a fun, chick-lit, women’s fiction, semi-erotic tale that runs the gamut from vibrators, farmhouses, antiques, art, roses, hydrangeas, a neurotic dog, fried green tomatoes, and a dash of murder.  

A recipe for disaster or a blue ribbon winner? 

When I figure out how to make the sex in my book work, I might be ready to date again.