Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 542

Need fortune cookie wisdom…

Here's something we haven't done in a while. A question. Just for us. And purely for our own pleasure.

What thought or sentiment would you like to have copied and put into one million fortune cookies?

My personal favorite would be, "You snooze, you lose." What's yours? Doesn't have to be cute or clever. Fortune cookie sayings rarely are.

Guest Blogger: Emma Jay

I'd been itching to write a wedding story for awhile, but I couldn't write about the bride and groom—they're already at their happy-ever-after. The Nora Roberts bride books were intriguing, but I didn't want to go to that level of research.

Then I went to a wedding in the Hill Country. It was a gorgeous setting, a limestone and glass building, an open floor plan, a gorgeous patio on the cliffs overlooking the Pedernales River. Perfect for my story.

And I watched a bridesmaid and a groomsman make eyes at each other. There was the story. Why should the bride and groom have all the fun? That it turned out to be erotic was just a bonus as Eric and Haven rediscovered the passion they'd found when they met at the bride and groom's engagement party.

In my story, I added hotel rooms for the wedding party to slip in and out of, and lengthened the wedding to a weekend-long event to give my hero and heroine lots of time to sneak around.

Do you like wedding stories? What are some of your favorites?

Two Step Temptation is available from Samhain Publishing for $1.75 this week!

Guest Blogger: Donna Alward

What Goes On Behind Closed Doors?

By Donna Alward

A big huge Thank You to Delilah for hosting me today! It's kind of a special day. I have a print release from Samhain Publishing that hits shelves today and anytime a book releases it's a reason to celebrate, I think!

SOLD TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER evolved from a simple idea: what if a wife bought her husband off a bachelor auction block? The first question of course is…why is a married man in a bachelor auction? Turns out the answer that came back to me was that the marriage wasn't exactly a functioning relationship. In fact, the moment the heroine sees him on the stage is the first time she's clapped eyes on him since right after their wedding. Over a decade earlier.

Most of my published works are written for Harlequin Romance, and as such the bedroom door is closed. Sometimes stuff happens behind those closed doors, and sometimes not. I'm okay with that—the emotional journey is always first and foremost after all! But every now and again I like to write a little hotter. Sometimes I write those "closed door" scenes just for me. They don't make it into the book, but I know what's happened. And knowing the details, I know exactly what the consequences—emotional and otherwise—will be for the characters.

I have more latitude with my Samhain books, and I really enjoyed letting loose with this story. Dev is pretty darn sexy, and Ella would rather forget just how spectacular the fireworks are between them. But of course, she can't! And I let the door stay wide open for those scenes. It was pretty fun, actually, and I ended up being quite happy with the results. One reader reviewed the book and commented that, "A reader would expect this book to be 'hot' and it really is. What I didn't expect was for the 'hot' scenes to be so well integrated into the plot that the story would not have moved forward without them. How, when, where, and why the hero and heroine make love is woven seamlessly into the plot."

I've got an excerpt for you—more of a teaser of what's to come, really. It's the first night Ella and Dev have seen each other since she left him, and they've toasted their troubles with a good amount of bourbon…

He tried to turn her and steer her to the bedroom. Good Lord, she was going to have a head on her in the morning. He hadn't meant for her to get this tipsy. Of course, she was a little bit of a thing. Compact, a bundle of energy and passion. Her breast grazed his hand and he gritted his teeth. If she hated him now, she'd really despise him in the morning if they slept together. Almost as much as he'd hate himself. He was in control. It was time she knew that. If she thought she'd get what she came for easily, she had another thing coming.

He'd take what he wanted first.

"Dev?"

"Yeah?"

"You're so tall. You know that, right?"

He smiled. She could make it so hard to hate her, especially when she used that soft, slightly plaintive tone like she had to have it or she'd just die. "Yeah, rumor has it."

"No, I mean really tall. Tall like women like their men to be tall. So that we have to tip our head back and look way up." She sighed, her sex-kitten eyelids drifting half-shut. "Sexy tall."

"Shut up, Ell." A muscle ticked in his jaw and in another strategic location. If she kept looking at him that way he was going to find it very difficult to put her in bed and walk away. But he'd be damned if he'd give in to her tonight. No matter what it cost him.

They took two steps.

"Dev?"

He sighed.

"Yes, Ell?"

She gripped his other arm so she was facing him, looking up at him with her dark eyes and lips red and slightly puffy, ripe to be kissed. He swallowed, hard. God, how he'd loved her.

She did it then, standing up on her tiptoes, melding her mouth to his, the flavor of the bourbon seducing them tongue-to-tongue. His mouth opened in an instinctive reaction to feeling hers on it. He lifted one hand and cupped her head, sending the prim twist askew, hairpins dropping to the floor. Her breasts were firm against his chest and she let go briefly to tug at the hem of his T-shirt.

"Take this off," she murmured, pulling the hem up over his abs. "Not in front of the bar. Not for Katie McGrew." She said the other woman's name with just enough venom for Dev to enjoy the surprising fact she was jealous. "Take it off for me."

For her. The words fired him up and he reached behind his head, grabbing at the collar and pulling it over in one swift movement. This much. He'd allow this much. He'd let her get a good hard reminder of what she'd thrown away. But no more. They didn't dare go any further.

Her fingers trailed down over his skin, the sensitive skin of his ribs, down his shoulder and to his elbow. "Mmm."

He slid his hand over her blouse, allowing himself one gratifying handful as he kissed her fully. Despite the Jim Beam or the years that had passed, her taste was as familiar to him as the smell of sweetgrass. Ella. His Ella. He kept his mouth fused to hers as he blindly undid the buttons of her blouse, filling his hands with her breasts once the fabric fell away. Her hand slid around to cup his bottom through his jeans.

A murmur sounded deep in her throat and he knew he had to stop, reminded himself that sex right now would only make things worse. He couldn't afford to spend Saturday dealing with post-coital fallout. She'd blame him for…what? There would be something, he was sure, and it would be all his fault and none of hers. No, tonight he'd leave her wanting more. He was the one with the self-control here. He'd get her to damn near ache for him, the way he'd ached for her for months after she'd abandoned him. And then maybe he'd sign her precious papers. After his lawyer'd looked at them. His terms, he reminded himself. She owed him that.

It took all his resolve, but he backed away, leaving her standing stunned and utterly beautiful.

"Go to bed, Ella." He pushed her towards the single bedroom. "If you don't, you'll hate yourself in the morning far worse than you hate me right now."

She turned and stared up at him with dazed, hurt eyes. He couldn't bear for her to argue, so he walked out into the cool September air, letting the screen door slap behind him.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Thanks for sharing today with me! You can catch up with me at my site, or on twitter—@DonnaAlward.

January Wrap-up

I was not a ball of fire this month.

True, I lost several days to two trips: one to Mississipi where I taught a plotting bootcamp with my sister; and the other the cruise to Key West and Cozumel. Still, it seemed like I wasted a lot of time thinking about what I should be writing rather than actually getting any pages done.

The high points of the month:

* Ravished by a Viking, my first book for Berkley, was released on January 4th! Woot!

* True Heart came out the same day from Samhain! It was still on MBaM's top ten bestsellers' list this morning, so I have plenty to be grateful for there.

* Girls Who Bite was accepted by Cleis!

* I completed two new short stories and shipped them to the editors of those collections.

* My previously published story, Sanctuary, was accepted for publication by Samhain.

Because I was soooo unproductive this month, February will be horribly frenetic!

* I have to write a 10k short story for a Kindle project (still need an idea that involves a stone or jewel!—ideas anyone?)!

* I want to finish a 25k BDSM story for Ellora's Cave.

* I want to write a 20k contemporary for my next Kindle release.

* I would like to write two short stories for upcoming collections. (Not that I expect to place both of them, but I figure it's always nice to have shorts to give away for free and I won't write them without a deadline!)

* And it would be nice to complete revisions on a couple of projects I already have mostly finished and get them out the door!

Yeah, way more than a sane human ought to consider doing in one month, but I always like to shoot high!

Sunday Mini-update & Announcments

The winner of the $25.00 gift certificate is posted at the end of this blog!

This is kind of a random blog today. For my own sake, I NEED to do a Report Card so that you can all scold me, and I can get mad at myself and get to work! On the other hand, I've been gone so long that I've missed making a few little announcements. So read on!

Real quick recap. I wrote 3 pages this last week. 3 FREAKING PAGES. Nuff said? 3 FREAKING pages a week will get you a book in a FREAKING decade. So puh-lease, tell me how lazy I am. Or better yet, how you're waiting anxiously for the next story. I need to picture your grasping hands reaching through the monitor to wring my neck if I don't get to work.

So, on to other more interesting things…

I have a newish interview up at Coffee Time Romance. Check it out if you'd like to know a little more about what was in my crazy head when I wrote Darkness Captured! Interview at Coffee Time Romance

Thought you might like a sneak peek at a book that's coming out in July 2011. I have a short story in this compilation, entitled Hot Out Here.

Twenty-five unashamedly modern romances with a strong erotic element aimed at the women's market. Twenty-five unashamedly modern short romances which don't shy away at the bedroom door from the crème de la crème of contemporary romance writers, including Lilith Saintcrow, Louisa Burton, Anna Windsor, Susan Sizemore, Michelle M. Pillow, Rebecca York, Charlotte Stein, Shiloh Walker, Victoria Janssen, Saskia Walker and Cathy Clamp.

This is writing which is more direct, less euphemistic, and frankly accepting of sexuality – fiercely hot stories of flesh and blood and feelings which will entrance and beguile romance readers.

Here's a little snippet!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Beads of condensation, glittering jewel-like in the sputtering candlelight, ran in rivulets down the sides of Jason's ice-cold beer.

Detail I shouldn't have been able to note, given the fact I wasn't anywhere near him.

As I lowered my nephew's toy binoculars, I reflected that I had indeed sunk to a new low. You see, my bedroom window conveniently overlooked Jason and Robert's fenced backyard. A fact that never registered with the previous tenants, but one that proved too delicious to ignore after the arrival of the handsome duo.

I began a furtive surveillance at once. One that had me cringing in embarrassment each time I greeted them in passing and feeling even more ashamed when we struck up a friendship.



We'd shared meals, drinks, watched football games together on their wide-screen TV. And still, I peeked into their backyard, waiting for those moments when they popped outside to mow it or catch a few summer rays. Their bodies gleamed with sweat while raw lust warred inside me along with the fear that I'd mess up our relationship if I let the guys know how I really felt.

My convenient perch on the windowsill afforded me a window into their private lives, and I was hooked from the very beginning. They'd become an obsession, one frustrated by the fact they treated me like a kid sister rather than a woman one of them might desire.

And therein lay another problem. I'd resisted the urge to seek a deeper relationship because then I'd have to choose. My libido was completely fickle, lusting after Jason's muscled physique, then sighing over the possibilities of what Robert's tall, bony frame and large feet hinted at. That their personalities were perfect bookends, fierce and funny, confused my heart as well.

Lucky me, I licked the sweat gathering on my upper lip while this night one of the handsome men living next door tilted his bottle and took several long sips. The look of pure bliss that softened his otherwise stern features made my chest ache.

I watched the movement of Jason's throat as he worked it down, imagining him sipping at my overheated flesh. My skin began to tingle. My nipples beaded, crowding uncomfortably against my lace bra. My thighs clenched as a delicious wash of arousal seeped to wet the crotch of my plain panties.

The sigh he emitted as he set the bottle on the table was echoed by my own painful groan. Watching either of them had never caused my heart to skip a beat like that hint of a moan sliding on the tail of Jason's long exhalation.

Sure, it was hotter than hell out there. I too felt the effects of the enervating heat. Record temperatures had strained the region's resources and planned service interruptions began that night. But something about that sigh felt…un-subtle, exaggerated, maybe even dramatic. And Jason was too straightforward a man for that.

I blotted sweat from my forehead, asking myself again, What am I doing?

Only this time, my peeping hadn't been deliberate. I'd rushed home from work and showered quickly to beat the brown-out. Then I'd stripped to my underwear, pulled back the curtains, and opened the window, hoping for a breeze to cool my skin. Sitting limply on the sill, I waited for the world to flicker into life again.

That's when I'd noticed him, sitting in a lounge chair alone in the dark.

He wore his usual work "uniform"—khaki trousers, white shirt and a tie. Tonight, the tie hung loosened and askew, his collar opened beneath it.

I could see it all despite the lack of electricity. Moonlight silvered his dark hair and reflected bright as a beacon against the white shirt. The golden light from the large Citronella candle leant warmth to his skin and the amber bottle he held between his hands.

As always, he was lovely to watch, but tonight his expression drew my attention more than his breath-stealing features. A sullen slanting of his brows, a bit of pout plumping his masculine lips, an edgy energy to his slight movements—he was either irritated or aroused.

Wanting an answer to the "either-or," I watched. My forte is observation; my people-radar exquisitely tuned to body language and a voice's tonal cues. My curiosity and my lust were caught. No way could I back away from my window now.

The bottle tapped the table as he set it aside. A long-fingered hand tugged the knot of his tie, dragging it from his neck.

When he began to undo the row of buttons down the front of his shirt, I settled deeper on the sill, leaning closer, but taking care to keep my pale body hidden behind the sheer curtain.

The edges of the shirt parted over a broad, nicely muscled chest. My gaze zeroed in on taut, lean abs dusted with dense fur the same color as his close-cropped black hair that stretched nipple to nipple then ran along a thin dark line to slip beneath his zipper.

His hand stroked his chest, scratching through the hair, the faint crinkling sound causing my own chest to tighten, my nipples to surge.

A light sheen of sweat glimmered on his chest and belly. Again, my tongue swept my lips, tasting salt, and I imagined I lapped the dew right off his skin.

When a lazily roaming hand slid over his belly, I tensed, fascinated as he swept the flat plane. Would he be hard or desk-soft? He looked firm. So, I enjoyed fantasizing that he was and touched my own stomach, following his path.

His hand slid down to the knot bulging behind his fly, and he cupped it. Squeezed.

My own hands itched to replace his and grew still, clenching against the fantasy of holding his burgeoning cock as it roused. My cheeks heated and my breaths shortened. No need to tease my own body into arousal, moisture already soaked my panties.

The buckle opened, and the belt slid sinuously from the loops as he lifted his hips and pulled it free. A flick of his thumb and the button at the waistband of his trousers opened. His zipper rasped as it slid down.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

And the winner of the $25.00 gift certificate (from her choice of Amazon.com or B&N) is…Chelsea B! Chelsea, send me an email to let me know what addy you want your prize sent to!

Saturday Snippet: Fight

Yes! I have two posts today. Be sure to see the one just under this for contest details!

Since the theme is "Fight", I thought it might be fun to go way back—to my second book, the first in the My Immortal Knight series where you meet Dylan and Quentin for the first time.

"A wild romp of raunchy sex, laugh-out-loud humor, and suspense…" Romance Reviews Today

"Ms. Devlin's take on the vampire world is unique and creative." The Romance Studio

Love bites!

Emmaline Harris meets the perfect man at a Halloween party. After he rescues her from the unwanted attentions of another partygoer, she succumbs to his kisses and spends an evening engaged in wicked-sexy lovemaking. Sure she's just a one-night stand, she tries to exit gracefully, but soon find she needs Dylan's special skills when her world is turned upside down by a blood-drinking killer and his gang who target her for their next meal.

Dylan O'Hara only wants a night of passion to slake his sexual needs, but finds Emmy is a full-bodied, red-blooded siren whose innocence and humor draws this Master vampire like a moth to a red-hot flame. When Emmy attracts the attention of a serial-killing vampire, Dylan vows to protect her, but he fears he'll lose Emmy once she discovers her "Dracula" has real fangs!

"Dylan, watch your back!"

At his friend's warning, Dylan O'Hara spun on his heels and ducked beneath a sweeping claw. He feinted to the left, and then surged upward, slamming the creature into a damp brick wall. "You will heed me!"

Arms immobilized, the beast shuddered and bared its teeth, a flash of white in the scant moonlight penetrating the narrow alley.

In its most primitive form, the creature couldn't understand him. Dylan sighed. This might take some time.

Behind him, wood splintered and metal rang against rock. "Quentin, you'd better finish your end quickly," he shouted, careful not to look away from the vampire. "We've more problems waiting at The Cavern."

"I'd be happy to oblige, but this one won't release its prize." Quentin grunted in accompaniment to the thud of heavy fists pounding flesh.

Dylan's vampire renewed its struggle.

Battling his own mind-stealing anger, Dylan barely pulled his throat away from a mouthful of jagged teeth. He slammed the creature into the wall again. "I will outlast you, bitch."

Intelligence glittered in the creature's dark gaze, and then her features relaxed, morphing instantly from snarling vampire to the cotton-candy sweetness of a teenaged girl. "Mr. O'Hara, I'm so sorry. You can let me go now."

The "Mr. O'Hara" made him feel at least a couple of centuries old. Dylan glared at the dark-eyed girl whose mane of curly, brown hair framed a pale face with sweetly bowed lips. "Who made you, little girl?"

She transformed again, from sweet sixteen to seductress with a single lap of her tongue around blood red lips. "You may," she whispered.

Dylan rolled his eyes. "Your sire. Who was your sire? And how do you know my name?"

Her lips formed a moue. "Why, Nicky made me. And every vampire knows you."

Muffled blows continued to sound behind him, and he shouted to Quentin, "For fuck's sake. He's only a mosquito. Can't you finish him on your own?"

"Inexperience doesn't mean the bastard hasn't got a wicked right hook," Quentin replied.

A loud crash and dull thump followed—flesh met metal. Then silence.

"Quentin, have you finished?"

"Not quite," Quentin said, and then groaned.

The girl peeked over Dylan's shoulder.

He pressed a finger to her lips. "Not one word."

Her glance darted back to his, and she nodded too quickly.

He kept his finger pressed to her lips. "And you don't move an inch, or I'll dust you."

Her eyes widened. Maybe she was a virgin to the vamp lifestyle, but she knew enough to fear a Master Vampire's threat. She nodded slowly.

Dylan turned to aid his friend, he wasn't the least surprised to hear the scurry of footsteps heading toward the street. With a shrug, he realized he didn't care the girl was getting away. He could always catch her later.

Quentin had the foresight to remove his shirt before entering the fray, and he rose from the ground to stand bare-chested, facing a male vamp in full-blooded frenzy.

The vamp's face was contorted with bloodlust and his fangs formed two greedy rows, the long incisors curving over his lips. Carrying a human at his side like a bag of potatoes, he swung his free arm and connected with Quentin's jaw.

Quentin landed next to a trash bin. When Dylan approached, he smiled crookedly. "I've got him softened up."

Dylan slid a stake from the top of his boot. "I told you, Quent, we haven't time to play."

The beast lumbered from side to side, the girl under his arm flopping like a rag doll. Blood, spattered on his Linkin' Park T-shirt and blue jeans, indicated she wasn't the vamp's first victim of the night.

To fight a vampire at the peak of his bloodlust, Dylan needed an extra push.

So he let his own lust take him by degrees, careful to balance waning human intelligence with increasing vampire strength. He thrilled to the heightened strength and awareness—bloodlust being a dangerously close cousin to his dark sensuality.

Skin on his cheeks and forehead stretched to accommodate rising plates of facial armor. Fangs slid from his gums, pushing shorter incisors behind them. Dylan curled his lips and snarled a warning at his opponent.

When the other male vamp threw back his head and roared, the rag doll at his side stirred, and she wriggled to free herself from the vampire's grasp. The vamp dropped its gaze to the girl, and Dylan leapt to push the stake deep into its chest.

As Dylan's face reformed and his teeth retracted, the vamp staggered, finally relinquishing its hold on the girl. With a great sigh, the creature fell to its knees. Features blurred, then reshaped.

A blond, sparse beard covered the chin and jaw of another teen. The youth's fearful gaze met Dylan's the instant the young man's body disintegrated into

dust.

"Goddamn, Nicky."

Quentin stepped past him, heading for the girl. She lay on her back, eyes closed tightly. Even from a distance, Dylan heard her heart hammering. Quentin bent over her, his mouth at her throat.

Dylan shuddered, thankful his friend had taken charge of the girl, certain he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from draining her dry. He'd been too long without fresh blood…and a neck was a tender bit of flesh.

After a long moment, Quentin raised his head, blood smearing his lips.

"Open your eyes, little girl."

Her lids lifted slowly, expression dazed.

"You partied too much with the boy, and he got a little carried away." His voice soothed. "You want to go home now."

"I want to go home," she said in monotone.

Quentin pushed a strand of her hair away from her forehead. "Did he drive you here, sweetheart?"

She blinked slowly. "I drove my car to The Cavern."

"How very convenient," he murmured. "Time to go home."

"I want to go home," she repeated.

Quentin helped her to her feet, and she walked to the end of the alley, staring straight ahead. His heavy hand landed on Dylan's shoulder. "We're done here, Dylan," he said quietly. "Let's make sure she gets to her car."

With one last glance at the empty, crumpled T-shirt and blue jeans, Dylan rose to his feet. "How many kids do you think Nicky had to go through to make this one?"

Quentin snatched his shirt from where he'd hung it on a nail and shrugged into it. "Why would he even want one this young?"

"Younger humans are more resilient. Teenagers stand a better chance of surviving the transformation. And they're all out tonight, it being Halloween. Easy pickings."

"Bloody hell. We should be glad he isn't turning babies in Spiderman outfits."

Dylan raked his hand through his hair. "Let's get out of here."

They left the alley and walked toward the violet neon sign marking the entrance to The Cavern.

Just as the girl passed them in a little red Civic, soft misty rain began to fall.

Dylan raised his face and inhaled, welcoming the moisture.

"Fuck me!" Quentin said. "It's raining again. Hurry along, now."

"My friend, you're too fussy. How can you not love the rain? It smells like home."

"I hated home every damned day of my life. Why the hell do you think I was in the Caymans when I was turned? London is forever dreary."

Dylan shook his head. They were poles apart in most things, but bound by their immortality. More than lifelong friends. "Seattle's as close to Ireland as I've found in the world. The weather's soft, and the rain makes everything…" He took a last deep breath. "…Clean."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Be sure to check out the snippets on these other authors' blogs:

Eliza Gayle

Jody Wallace

Lauren Dane

Leah Braemel

Lissa Matthews

Mari Carr

McKenna Jeffries

Sasha White

Shelli Stevens

Taige Crenshaw

TJ Michaels

Last pics and last day to enter!

Today's the last day of the contest to win the eGift Certificate. You have to post a comment to win!

I was surprised. I didn't take all that many pictures this trip. Maybe it was because of the weather. Or maybe it was because I'm a little jaded. My cruise last year with Sasha was sooooo much fun and the weather was completely awesome. I will admit that cruise travel isn't really my cup of tea. I much prefer flying to one place and taking trains/renting a car to see the surrounding area. Port calls just don't leave you time to explore.

These are the last pics I'll share. Tomorrow I'll be back with a winner and news about a new book.

Believe it or not, this cruise was work-related. Here's proof (just in case Mr. Taxman is reading!). From left to right is Erika from Avon, Eric from Tor, and Wanda and Adam from Harlequin.

My favorite view. Really. The ninth deck at the back of the boat wasn't a hopping place, which was what I often needed. I liked standing there and just breathing the sea air and forgetting that there were 2500 other people crawling over the same boat. I'm such an introvert!

After debarking, this was the sight as our shuttle bus pulled up to the airport. There were easily a dozen police cars covering the entrance. But the cops were only standing around. No guns were drawn. Not sure what was up, but it was an interesting end to the journey.

So today, you get to make up a reason for why all those cop cars

were covering the entrance to airport!

Cozumel!

The contest continues. See note at the bottom of this entry!

Okay, so the title of this post is more exciting than the pictures from Cozumel. The cruise ship docked. Passengers debarked and entered a small shopping area that was suspiciously pristine. Cyndi and I walked the length of the shopping area, then crossed the road. Immediately, we realized that not all of Cozumel was brightly painted and clean—and since nothing appealed, we turned around and shopped our brains out. So yeah, I didn't take a lot of pics.

The best part of the day was Cyndi! She taught me to haggle.

Our boat's the one on the left. Massive things, aren't they?!

Anyone who has cruised knows that one of the fun things the room steward's do

is make these little towel pets.

So guess what each of these is supposed to be. Remember, yesterday's contest continues today—but you have to comment!

Cruise Pictures and a Contest!

***Contest! Post a comment on my blog and you're entered. Contest ends Sunday, so post every day for more chances to win! The Prize? A $25.00 gift certificate from Amazon.com!**

Here are a few pics from the first 24-hours of my cruise to Key West and Cozumel!

Miami from the sea!

Taken from the dock at Key West on Friday morning!

Cyndi is the one who dragged me on the cruise. She sent an email and begged me to come. She really had to twist my arm hard! First thing we did on Key West was rent a little electric car. So worth it!

Key West is packed with cute little shops, overaged hippies and really cute houses!

This is the one I want!

Pretty little cottages all in a row.

Do you get the feeling the Westies know how to enjoy life?

Pirate sighting!

Cyndi and I sped around the island in our little car (okay, the fastest we could go was 20 mph) and took in the sights. Some. Mostly, we shopped! We picked up art work. I bought a pendant made from the silver from the sunken Spanish galleon, the Atocha. At the end of the day, we were ready to head back to the ship for a rest.

I keep wondering what Captain Booty's story is. Maybe y'all can help me make one up. Why would a man dress in a red-sequined pirate outfit with a stuffed rooster on his head?

Guest Blogger: Pam Champagne

WHERE IS MAINE?

by Pam Champagne

I often wonder if Maine is part of the United States of America. CNN news and weather seldom mention us. Their national weather map stops at lower New Hampshire and Vermont. Perhaps they think Maine is part of Canada? Or perhaps we aren't media sensational as other States during blizzards, ice storms and floods. Oh wait! We did make national news when the ski lift fell at Sugarloaf. The media loves tragedies or potential tragedies and such.

Granted, Maine's population is low. The majority of Maniacs are self-sufficient with generators and woodstoves, so are able to survive a week or more, if not forever, without electricity. I'd guess there's no news if people aren't freezing or starving to death. If your vehicle goes off the road, you either winch it out or wait for the next truck to come along and pull you out.

A few years back, I recall a contestant on the Wheel of Fortune won an island off the coast of Maine. The winner asked, "Where is Maine?" Pat Sajak replied he wasn't quite sure, but thought it was "in the northeast somewhere." I'm not making this up folks. It's the God's honest truth.

There have been rumblings in Maine about dividing the State into two States. About 75 percent of the population lives from Portland south. In my opinion, this area is an extension of Massachusetts, since many of the people who live there relocated from southern New England "to move to the country." News flash! They brought the rat race they hoped to escape in their luggage.

The vast majority of residents of central Maine get by and the ones in northern Maine for the most part are impoverished. They work seasonal jobs and collect unemployment for much of the year. Tough new fishing laws hurt these coastal residents. The Go Green movement has hurt our logging industry, which is strange since trees are a renewable resource. Shoe shops, once the main employer in Maine, are for the most part extinct thanks to our Asian imports. My Dad actually raised his family by hand sewing in a shoe factory.

Many celebrities and Fortune 500 people have seasonal homes on the coast and their taxes keep the towns running smoothly. On the downside, locals have to pay those taxes too.

I'm lucky to live within commuting distance of Bangor (takes me an hour or more), so my skills as a legal secretary enabled me to find a job. Many aren't so lucky. Yet, for all its hardships, I can't imagine living anywhere else. I can be in the wilderness and mountains or the beautiful coast in about 2 hours. Who could ask for more?

For a taste of life in Downeast Maine, one of the poorest areas in our State, check out my book, Bed of Lies. If you're not familiar with Maine, you will be enlightened.