Tamara Larson's Blog, page 2

He said. She said.

Help! I don’t know what’s going on, but every book I read lately seems to kind of suck. What happened? I was on such a role there for a long time. Everything I downloaded was golden. Personally, I blame Cara McKenna. I read several of her books in a row and everything else seems sub-par now. Her Heroes are just so filthy/charming. How does she do it?

Well, I hate to say it because I typically like books with dual POVs but I think the reason her male characters are so compelling is due, in part, to the fact that their thoughts and motivations remain a mystery. (Hard Time, After Hours and Willing Victim). We see these hard-boiled characters strictly from the heroine’s point-of-view and personally, I think knowing too much about their vulnerabilities and insecurities takes away from their uber-sexiness. When Ms. Mckenna shared the inner-workings of submissive Rob’s mind in Unbound I really had to force myself to finish it. I think it was incredibly brave to write such an anti-hero but he was much too pathetic to be sexy.

Speaking of male perspective, How about Mr. Christian Grey? Did we need to know more about him or is the recent release of his side of the story a blatant money-grab? I can certainly see why people say she’s beating a dead horse but that didn’t stop me from picking up a copy. (I went to an actual book store because the Kindle download was too much money. I know I’m cheap but I won’t spend more than $4 for an electronic file. Anything more is just plain greedy to me.)

My best friend and I buddy-read Grey in three days, so obviously we were eager to experience more of Christian’s world. But the question remains, was he more attractive before we delved more deeply into his troubled psyche? I think it was interesting to know more about his past. Gaining more insight into his dark beginnings certainly humanized him and made him more of a sympathetic character, but sexier? Probably not.

As a writer, I really enjoy writing from a male perspective. It’s challenging to make their inner-narrative sound appropriately MALE. I’m not sure exactly what that means but I think it embodies all the stereotypes we like to attribute to men, plus just a bit of that mystery element that makes them so attractive. Their decisiveness and directness, perhaps. Their blatant horniness and humour, for sure.

A good writer, like Ms. McKenna, can capture the nobility, decency and gallantry of our ideal hero without losing the blatant masculinity that I look for in my fictional alpha males.

So who are the gritty, dangerous heroes we can’t get enough of?

R.I.P. My Kindle

Well, after a long and fulfilling life, my beloved Kindle finally bit the dust. It had been showing signs of disease for the last few months - spontaneously erasing books and freezing without warning. But I refused to see the signs due to my ongoing go-to avoidance technique, denial. But now it's been three days since I've been able to get more than a hiccup from the poor thing, so I guess it's time to take it out to the woodshed and put it out of its misery. I loved that damn thing. It changed my life, and now it's in a drawer with my ancient Walkman and the pedometer I never use but can't quite throw out.

It wasn't love at first sight for my Kindle and I. It was a Christmas present from my mom back in 2010 and I hadn't quite decided if I wanted an e-reader or not at that point. I didn't entirely understand how it worked and I'm really too impatient to read instructions so it actually took me several weeks to get to the point where I was actually able to download books. Even then I still loved the feel of a "real" book in my hand, the beautiful covers, and the ease of lending a beloved title to a friend and actually sharing the reading experience with them. So I thought I would use my Kindle when I travelled or possibly at the gym at the most.

Man, was I wrong. It quickly became my constant companion. I've downloaded books everywhere you can imagine: on planes, on beaches, in the parking lot of various hiking trails around the lower mainland, on ferries, even in the chemo ward while I was undergoing treatment for Breast Ca.

Not to sound like a paid advertisement but my beloved Kindle has really and truly improved my life dramatically. Not just because I can buy as many books with shirtless men on the cover without worrying about judgy sales clerks at Chapters either. It was also responsible for re-introducing me to writing again.

How? Well, I wasn't very savvy when I first started downloading books and I kept coming across these really horribly edited romance novels. I mean bad, bad, bad. Like, ejaculate was spelled ejackulait. Seriously. How did the editor not catch that? Then I did some research and discovered that these were self-published works. What? Amazon apparently would allow just anyone to publish their work. For free!!! It seemed too good to be true.

It still took me several months to get up the nerve but I finally mustered my cajones and downloaded my unpublished romance novel, Lost & Found, just as an experiment the week before Christmas 2011. I didn't really think anyone would download it but it actually turned out to be quite successful. Even with its Mommy-porn cover that I downloaded from Jimmy Thomas's website. (Thanks Jimmy.)This, of course, motivated me to write six books in 2012 which officially made me writer again after giving up on that dream a decade earlier.

I'm not certain if I would have tried self-publishing if not for that 2010 Christmas present so I'm more than grateful to my mom for the gift, but also to that little piece of technology which pushed me to try something new and take a chance on being a writer again.

I will miss you, my friend. Thank you for the many, many hours of (dirty) pleasure, but also for opening up a door I thought was closed to me. My life has been irrevocably improved because of you. My new paperwhite will never replace you. Well, not entirely...

The Return of Krazy Karl!

Here's a little something for anyone who may have wondered what Krazy Karl from "Hot Property" is upto. Enjoy! (Excerpt from upcoming "Mr. Fixer-Upper".)

With narrowed eyes, the blonde man in the darkened car watched the couple leave the Wilde Hawg’s parking lot with fevered intensity. When the sight of Anna and her companion faded from sight he looked down at where his long fingers gripped the steering wheel in a punishing grip. His knuckles stood out in sharp relief against the dim dashboard lights. The green glow illuminated his pale skin, giving his flesh a sickly, almost alien appearance.
Of their own volition, his fingers contracted around the hard leather, twisting and making an unpleasant squeaking sound. He barely heard it. He was completely focused on the roar of his blood rushing through his veins as the familiar rage took hold of him.
He had been watching Anna since she moved out and before tonight she’d never varied her route. She went to work, school or the market. That was it. She was so utterly predictable and boring. But he watched her anyway. Because she belonged to him and it was his right to do so, despite the foolish restraining order she’d filed against him several weeks ago. A piece of paper wouldn’t prevent him from keeping an eye on her. She was his property.
A man took care of what was his, even if he didn’t really want her anymore. Just the thought of touching her made him vaguely nauseous, despite the fact that she was the perfect women: young, docile, fair-skinned and pretty. She was even fertile. Their perfect son had been conceived effortlessly the first time they’d had intercourse. A clinical and cold interaction that had occurred on his initial visit to The Farm as a teenager. Anna had been barely eighteen at the time. And a virgin. She’d been so perfect - cowering before him and weeping silently as he’d taken her with brutal force.
Yes, Anna was everything he could possibly desire in a mate and yet there was obviously something very wrong with her. He’d suspected she was hiding something and he’d been right all along. He’d been too young and inexperienced to recognize her deficiency twelve years ago but now his tastes were refined and his body was calibrated to reject women who were inferior. At least that’s what he told himself. What other explanation could there be for his body’s rejection of her?
According to the paperwork she’d provided upon entering The Farm, Anna’s pedigree was flawless but people falsified documents in Easter Europe all the time. Unconvinced, he’d tested her blood in his own genetics lab and it had contained all the Aryan markers he required, but something was obviously wrong. Why else would he find her so repulsive?
His lack of desire for her had made him start to wonder if perhaps he was only capable of performing sexually if he was inflicting pain on his partner. But that would make him some kind of pervert. And he was a perfect human specimen. His grandfather had assured him he was above reproach. So such a weakness wasn’t possible. And yet he’d felt his distaste for Anne increasing with each moment that passed in her pitiful company. He’d had no choice but to have her investigated. The results of that investigation had prompted the beating that had sent her to the hospital. She’d been released while he was at work several days later and had returned to his house long enough to pack her ugly clothes, and steal his son. The fact that she’d actually been stupid enough to take one of his cars still made him chuckle humourlessly. Pretty hard to run away when your getaway car could be tracked through the GPS system. What an idiot.
He’d almost been relieved when he’d come home to find her skittish presence absent from his home. Now he was free to pursue his hobbies unfettered by her watchful eyes.
That didn’t mean he would allow her to find happiness elsewhere. He had brought her to America to be a mother to his child, but more than that, he’d wanted them to create the perfect family together. And she’d had the audacity to reject him despite the fact that she would still be living and working in a lab if he hadn’t intervened on her behalf. She’d been living a life no better than a rat in a cage. She owed him everything. Every single thing.
Yet here she was, hanging out at this watering hole for degenerates. Like some common slut. Like her mother and her aunt. Given the family history he’d recently discovered it was really no surprise she’d left with a man she didn’t know. And not just any man. A Kingston Brother.
In a fit of temper, he crashed his forehead down onto the upper curve of the steering wheel with vicious force. He did this twice more, until he could feel wetness trickling down his forehead and into his pale eyes.
He released the steering wheel with one hand and brushed his fingertips across the bridge of his fine nose in wonder. They came away darkened with blood. His own blood for a change.
“You fool,” he muttered to himself as he reached into the pocket of his suit jacket to retrieve his monogrammed handkerchief. “Never the face. Didn’t that old man teach you anything?” He mopped his forehead with an unsteady hand and closed his eyes as he pressed the cotton to the small gash in the smooth skin above his right eye.
He thought back to the many hours he’d spent trapped in the cold basement of his grandfather’s home as a child. The whippings he’d endured and the lessons he’d learned while kneeling on unforgiving concrete. To his grandfather one idea had been paramount above all others: appear normal. Do not draw attention to yourself. Be non-threatening. Self-inflicted injuries to his face did not coincide with his grandfather’s teachings.
Except for a few isolated incidents, including the brutal beating of a bully in grade school and a few minor stalking incidents he’d been successful in hiding his more violent tendencies. As an adult he was a respected scientist and an influential member of his community. Last year he’d even participated in a bachelor auction for charity. Outwardly he was as normal and benign as a man could be.
Beneath the surface, however, there lurked something dangerous and twisted. Darkness clung to Karl with needle-sharp claws, begging to be unleashed. But he chose not to think about that now. What was important was that he kept his private life a secret and his public life as mundane as possible. Having Anna in his life was a big part of that. With her bland prettiness beside him he would remain above reproach.
The fact remained: he didn’t want her but he needed her. The problem was that she knew too much about him and as a result was rightfully terrified of him. If he could force her back, perhaps this time he would overcome his urges and stay on the right path. His son had a bright future in front of him. The last thing the boy needed was the world suspecting that his father was hiding a monster beneath his mask of gentility. Adam was all that mattered, really. He would do anything to ensure his success. Anything at all.

Mr. Fixer-upper Sneak Peek

Just released the first chapter of Mr. Fixer-Upper on my website.
http://tvlarson.shawwebspace.ca/pages...

I've never tried this as a PDF, so let me know if you can read it or not.

Hope you guys enjoy it. We're looking at August or September for release.

Happy Mother's Day!

Meat Curtain? Yuck.

So I’ve been bingeing on books that lean more towards the comical side of romance than erotica lately and I’ve discovered that there are some damn funny rom-com writers out there and some who just take it a bit too far.

Why am I abandoning my previous filthy reading habits? Well, call it research. Because the fact is that since I’m on hormone suppressants (part of the Breast Ca treatment) my libido has taken a nose-dive and I find it really hard to write “The Sex.” Not that I was a complete horn-dog before but I found writing those scenes extremely fun, easy, and well, yes, satisfying. Now it takes forever and to me at least, my love scenes lack the intensity and passion that came so easily before. It’s like the characters are bad porn actors, going through the motions, rather than feeling the chemistry. So, yeah, sub-par. Not what I want for my readers.

So, what is an erotic-romance writer supposed to do? Well, either stop taking the suppressants and get my mojo back online or start to explore other genres. Since option 1 is kind of dumb and potentially life-threatening, I’m going with option 2 and looking at writing more romantic comedy. So, why the need for research? Well, I want to get a sense of how far I can go with the physical comedy before it’s either offensive or ridiculous.

For instance, I read a book recently that was supposed to be hilarious. There were lots of rave reviews posted so I was really looking forward to it. But once I started reading it I found myself a bit appalled at how far the writer went in terms of using shock-value for comic relief. Particularly the frequent references and terminology used for a woman’s vagina. For instance, is the term “meat curtain” the least sexy term ever used for a woman’s labia? Pretty much, right? Way worse than labia even. I have never even heard this term used before. And I would be perfectly ok with never hearing it again. What a turn off. And “cum-twat” as a pet name for a friend? Uttered publicly at a work function. Wow. No, I don’t think that would go over well if one of my friends called me that at the office Christmas party. Do I sound like a repressed librarian? I swear I’m not. I’m a bit of a potty-mouth in my own right. But even I was turned off by the excessive vulgarity in this particular book and that’s not an easy thing to do.

Now, how about comedy done right? Well, the 'Neighbour From Hell' series definitely ranks up there with what I consider comedy done right. Eve Langlais has some pretty hilarious books that are both funny and hot. ('Bunny and Bear', for example.) Penny Reid, of course, her books are incredibly smart and funny. I was also delighted to read a book called 'The Virgin Romance Novelist' recently which really struck a chord with me. Ok, so the heroine had a tendency to ramble on at some inopportune times. (Ex: when she’s finally getting it on is NOT the time to get distracted.) And no one has that many bad dates in such a short time period. But I found myself both amused and touched throughout the entire book. These are the kind of books I’d like to write. Likely not as well as these ladies do it, of course, but hopefully I will not have to use the term ‘bologne-pony’ to be considered funny.

Now, what are some examples of romantic comedy done right in your opinion and some that go too far?

He orgasmed her? Really?

I’ve mentioned this before, but I think it’s worth repeating. For me, the best part of reading and writing romance is the dialogue. I love how the characters come alive through their words. Sometimes, when I’m not quite sure who my characters are, I’ll write an entire chapter entirely in dialogue and my hero and heroine always reveal themselves to me through their words. Sounds weird? Probably. But I think people and characters have a tendency to drop clues to their personality when they speak their thoughts aloud more than when writers tell me what they’re like.

People, real and imaginary, show their vulnerability and their humour through dialogue more than the narrative. In reality, most of us don’t express our inner dialogue in perfectly thought out paragraphs that rationalize our motivations anyway. Typically this is how thoughts are presented in books, but it’s not very genuine. In reality, people aren’t always certain how they feel until they speak the words out loud which is probably why we have a tendency to blurt out half-formed thoughts that invariably get us into trouble. But in books, they evidently have everything figured out beforehand.

How often have you been reading a romance novel, and in the middle of a heated conversation, the dialogue will come to a screeching halt so the writer can explain why the character is reacting this way. For instance, imagine the hero makes some kind of cave-manish possessive comment. Internally, the heroine will explain that she doesn’t like his tone because it reminds her of her abusive ex-husband or father or gymnastics coach or whoever has turned her off relationships and she’ll go off on a tangent about the circumstances of her trauma. And though it’s good to understand what’s going on, it kind of sucks that the flow of the dialogue has been interrupted to explain what’s REALLY going on: the subtext. Not only is this detrimental to the book but I think it’s a bit condescending. In life, we don’t have the luxury of that insight but we somehow figure out the plot on our own. Do we really need it spoon-fed to us in the middle of a conversation?

That being said, I have a tendency to do this too. Why? Because even though I trust my readers to understand what’s going on I really want them to like and identify with my characters so I go overkill with the explanations. Sometimes dialogue alone can seem a little bare without the clarification of narrative. Mostly these passages for me are about my insecurity as a writer. When I interject a long-winded explanation into dialogue I’m typically trying to ensure I’ve effectively communicated enough information to ensure the actions of my characters make sense. But is this really necessary? Don’t readers fill in the blanks on their own if the dialogue is clear and well-written? I’m toying with the idea of refraining from this particular crutch and just concentrating on the dialogue with my next book, so we’ll see if I crash and burn or not.

Now, how about bad dialogue? What does it take to totally turn you off? Personally, I have a tendency to roll my eyes if the hero spouts long-winded romantic prose for pages and pages. Yes, there may very well be men out there who talk like this, but I’ve never encountered them so to me it sounds laughably false when some construction worker or soccer-player waxes rhapsodic about his love for his woman. The men in my life are pretty blue-collar, so I can easily imagine them gouging out their own tongues before voicing such thoughts aloud. They may think their wives and girlfriends are amazing or have pretty eyes or a great personality, but they typically communicate their admiration physically rather than verbally.

Really odd turns of phrase can also totally derail my enjoyment of a book. Recently, I was reading an otherwise great book and the hero was muttering some pretty hot dirty talk, in a British accent no less, when he suddenly said something like, “I’m going to orgasm you…” What? Ummm. No. That just sounds wrong. I suppose it’s grammatically correct, but it’s awkward and clinical-sounding. Just no. Never use the word orgasm in dialogue, especially as a verb.

So what’s the worst example of bad dialogue you’ve ever read in a romance novel?

The Vampire Lives! Again!

Yup. I can't help myself. Despite the fact that "The Vampire's Last Virgin" (or as it's known on Amazon "Trapped with the Vampire") has sold less than fifty copies world-wide, I keep thinking about Alex and Dani and wanting to tell their story. Partly I think this is because I ended it so abruptly, which wasn't my original plan. (I was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer while I was writing it. I literally published it on Amazon the evening before I went into the hospital for my bilateral mastectomy in December of 2012.)I basically cut it off short because I didn't know if I was going to feel upto writing for awhile, but didn't want the story to remain untold. So, if it seems a bit rushed at the end, that's why.

I had eight days between diagnosis and surgery and I spent most of that time trying to tie up loose ends at work and devising a rushed version of that book's final act. I've felt bad about this for a long time. I feel like I cheated readers somehow. I know I hate it when authors do serials that aren't complete stories as a money grab and yet I was doing that exact thing. Hypocritical much?

So last week I was transferring files from my old lap-top to my fantastic new PC and came across the original file for "The Vampire's Last Virgin". I found myself reading it over and was surprised and delighted at how weird, hot and funny it was. I honestly feel that it's my best work to date.

Until I revisited Alex and Dani last week I thought perhaps the poor sales reflected the quality of the work. Now I realize that VLV's poor performance probably has a lot more to do with Amazon's decision to place it in the hard-core erotica section, where it clearly doesn't belong. It's really more of a supernatural, erotic comedy than porno, so it's really no wonder that very few people have read it.

So what now? Do I leave this story unfinished because it's doomed for failure? Or do I practise what I preach and write the sequel because that's what a person who writes for the joy of writing would do? Do I give the few readers who are interested in this story what they want or ignore them in favour of potential profits and validation?

I'm sure there are some of you out there who will think I'm a fool but here's an excerpt from the upcoming "The Vampire's Former Virgin." Yup, the writer in me wins again.

Enjoy!

Before that night. The one with Alex, Daniela’s dreams were much like the rest of her life – unremarkable.

Now Daniela dreamed nightly of icy cold flesh beneath her hands and sharp teeth against her neck. In her small bed she moaned as her mind took her back to the dungeon. With him. Alex. But despite the horrific circumstances of their time together this wasn`t a nightmare. Not at all.

Her head thrashed on the snow-white pillow, as the dream unfolded once again.
In that other world he was on top of her, his hips wedged between her spread thighs and the cold iron of his manacles brushing her flesh as he held her wide open for him. They were both completely naked and the carved bed beneath her back was covered in red, musty velvet. She could feel his hardness pressing into her, possessing her, making her wild to feel him thrusting and bucking inside her.

She grabbed his hard buttocks in her hands, trying to force him to take her but he resisted, teasing her. He had the nerve to chuckle at her desperation. She grunted in impatience and raised her hips, trying to impale herself on his massive erection, but he remained motionless above her. Then he spoke her name, softly, in that strange, commanding voice, and she was couldn’t help herself. She opened her eyes and found herself staring into his bright blue eyes which seemed to glow with a pale, unnatural light. She had a single glimpse of his eyes turning completely black before he tucked his head and she felt his fangs piercing the tender flesh of her neck.

She screamed as he penetrated her with both his teeth and his rampant cock. Her entire body clenched with the pleasure of being taken so completely. It felt so, so good. Better than anything. She writhed beneath him, seeking more, needing him to finish it, to give her what she needed. He raised her legs higher around his waist and she wailed as he plunged deeper within the tight grasp of her body. Against her neck he growled and she shuddered and begged him to take her harder. She felt herself begin to fly apart.

And then the knocking began and Daniela woke with a start.

“Dani,” Kara called impatiently through the bedroom door. “Dani. Seriously? Again with the screaming?” She gave the door a solid kick and crossed her arms. She loved her friend and had been entertained by her nightly performances at first but this had been going on for eight months now. It was getting old.

Inside the small room, Dani groaned as she looked down and saw that once again she had kicked off her pastel sheets, exposing her naked legs and lacy panties to the pale moonlight streaming through her open window. Beneath her long t-shirt her nipples were diamond-hard and her lips stung like she’d bitten them raw. Sitting up, she yanked the hem of her shirt down over her trembling thighs and put a hand to her hot cheek.

“Sorry Kara. Another bad dream,” she called, not recognizing her husky voice. Good Lord, had she screamed herself hoarse?

“Uh huh. That didn’t sound like a bad dream. It sounded like a nymphomaniac convention in there.” Kara said, leaning against the door. She looked down at her fuzzy slippers and ran her hand through her tousled curls. “Dani, I hate to say it but I think you need some help. And some better sound-proofing. At lease close the window. All the neighbourhood perverts are probably hanging around under your balcony with massive hard-ons. It doesn`t look good.”

Despite her mortification, Dani giggled. She imagined a bunch of shifty types in raincoats and fedoras gathered under her window with their hands in their pockets. Not a pretty picture.

On unsteady legs she stood up and walked towards the bedroom door. Between her thighs there was an unmistakable flutter of excitement, as if her body didn’t quite realize that the dream was over.

Reaching for the doorknob, Dani noted that her hands were actually shaking. Throwing the door open, she quickly crossed her arms over her chest to cover her traitorous nipples and her trembling hands. She sat down on the bed and watched as Kara crossed to the window and shut it with a resounding slam.

“There, now at least the neighbours won’t think we’re filming a porno over here,” Kara said with a disapproving frown...

Holding out for an old school hero

So, that damn one-click got me again. I thought I’d actually discovered a Linda Howard book I’d never read before. With really embarrassing excitement I downloaded it immediately since I love her old stuff. (Mr. Perfect, Open Season and After the Night are a couple faves.) So I was tempted to return it when the plot started to sound familiar but somehow I ended up getting enthralled all over again with “Come Lie with Me.”

To be honest, it’s not her best work and it took me awhile to get past the whole lack of cell phones and technology (The book was written when I still had big hair) but I soon found myself forging onward and actually being a bit shocked at some of the human qualities her hero exhibited. For instance, he actually cries. SERIOUSLY. He blubbers like a big, hairy baby. At one point, there’s even the suggestion of impotence. WHAT? An alpha male with a limp noodle? What a concept. And get this, the heroine actually beats him in an arm-wrestling contest and throws him around a little when he gets a little too frisky.

Now I’ve spent the last several years reading (and writing) about unrepentant alpha males. They’re all tall and gorgeous with huge, working cocks to go with their cocky attitudes and they don’t cry or exude anything but confidence in any situation. They are supermen. And I adore them from their carelessly tousled hair to their oversized feet. But I gotta say, there was something refreshing about a guy who was not your stereotypical stud. Dare I say it, but it was actually kind of sweet. And get this, LH managed to make this hot mess of a hero wildly attractive without once using graphic language. Say what? No seriously, her love scenes seem positively tame now. No one gets tied up or spanked or has their back-door violated. And yet it’s still erotic because she’s that good. (I am not on her level, so will continue to use every euphemism for cock known to womankind in my books. I don’t aspire to LH’s level. She is the queen.)

After finishing “Come Lie with Me” I was struck by how one-dimensional our modern heroes have become compared to Blake. It seems like our standard of masculinity has narrowed to such a degree that we are intolerant of any signs of humanity or weakness. I realize we read romance for the fantasy, the fairy tale prince without flaws, but isn’t there something to be said for a hero who has some room for improvement and grows into a better man, with the help of an equally flawed woman?

What are some modern examples of heroes who challenge the alpha male standard of masculinity?

Fair Market Value - Epilogue Part Two

Happy New Year. I swear this is it. James and Lauren's story is finally told, though I'm pretty sure they will make some appearances in the next two Kingston Brothers books. (Both should be out in 2015).

I confess I fell in love with James a bit during the writing of this book, so it's really no wonder I couldn't let it go. This epilogue was supposed to be about three thousand words. (Roughly twelve pages) It ended up being over NINE thousand words. It's like a little novella because I just couldn't let him go. I feel like I need some relationship counselling now that it's finally over. I always feel a bit like this when I end a book. Until I meet my next fictional Mr. Right. (In this case, James' brother, Jacob, will be my literary rebound guy.)

So, I hope you enjoy part two of FMV's Epilogue: http://tvlarson.shawwebspace.ca/pages...

I hope 2015 is full of great reads and lots of laughter for all of you.

TVL

FMV Epilogue Part 1

Doesn't it seem like Fair Market Value is never going to end? I hope you guys aren't getting tired of Lauren and James because I don't seem to be able to let go of them. Hence the Bonus Chapter and now the extremely long Epilogue.

It's not quite finished but I wanted to give you (especially Shannon and Janey) something special for Christmas and that means yet another teaser.

So if you want to see what's going on with these two three months later, please visit my website at http://tvlarson.shawwebspace.ca/pages...

The second half is coming soon. So stay tuned and have a wonderful holiday. And thanks for suggesting the Epilogue. I had fun with it. Hope you do too.

TVL