Rhyll Biest's Blog, page 3

Childhood conditioning: Or why you won't catch Cate Ellink wearing a dress

I’ve always had an aversion to wearing dresses. It’s not that I don’t like wearing them, it’s that I feel naked or exposed in them. There have been many times when I’ve worn a pair of running shorts underneath a dress or a skirt, and that’s eased some of my tension even if it looks dorky! I’ve never understood it, not really. I don’t have any tales to tell of standing with my knickers (or lack of them) exposed after a gust of wind turned my dress into a turban. Nothing like that.

So imagine my surprise when I finally worked out where this aversion came from (it only took me forty plus years!)

Recently, I went to the park with my niece who is four years old and very active. I took a bunch of photos of her on the swing, the slippery dip, the rope climbing thing (no idea what that’s called) and her push bike. When I got home and downloaded the photos, I realised they were all totally and completely useless.

In every shot I could see her underpants.

And that’s when I realised where my aversion came from. As a rather active child, wearing a dress was a disaster. No matter what I did, I was showing my underpants. If I climbed, ran, sat, I was always being told, “Keep your knees together,” or “Slow down,” or “Be more ladylike.” It was some hugely forbidden thing to allow anyone to see your underpants – or so my mother thought, and maybe in the 70s this was true.

Being an active child, there was a decision to be made; to wear a dress, or not to wear a dress.

Easiest choice out. I wore pants whenever I could. I got into less trouble. I wasn’t flashing my knickers at everyone. I could do what I wanted without having to keep my knees together.

I own a few dresses, but it’s not often you find me in one. Only a very special occasion warrants a dress, but I’m never comfortable wearing one. I did get married in a dress but it touched the floor which meant little chance of flashes of underwear!

Back to my niece, I sent the photos to my sister and explained that I’d never use them due to the underpants flashing, and she laughed at me. Her view was that the pants matched the dress and covered the child, so I didn’t need to worry…but I did, and I do. I blame my childhood!

Do you have any weird childhood experiences that affect you?

Why Elyse Huntington won't settle for less than a duke

Image source: Artist James Griffin

As you would have gathered from my Naughty Ninja name, I love dukes. So much so that I have been known to buy any historical romance novel featuring the word ‘duke’ in the title, never mind what the blurb says. Nowadays however, my kindle has such a ridiculous number of unread items on it that common sense (plus some vague sense of financial responsibility – I do have three children after all) dictates that I should be somewhat more judicious in choosing books.

But why do you love dukes, Elyse, I hear you say. There really isn’t any need to delve deep into my psyche for the answer. The plain truth is that I love reading about heroes who are alpha males. The more alpha they are, the better. So it’s not enough that they are a member of the aristocracy, they have to be the highest member of the aristocracy next to the royal family. They also have to be wealthy, fit and extraordinarily attractive, at least to the heroine. There are of course many, many wonderful historical romances dedicated to heroes and heroines from the lower classes; I am only telling you about the types of heroes I particularly enjoy reading about.

I love being able to escape the toils and cares of ordinary life to a world where money is no object, where my imagination can run rampant about the gorgeous gowns my heroine wears, the extravagant balls the couple attend and the lavish homes that they inhabit; where the obstacle to their happily-ever-after is not a lack of funds. Portraying my hero as a wealthy duke also goes towards showing his supreme ability in managing his finances and the tenants and employees under his care.

Of course, wealth can pose an obstacle too, which could lead to the marriage of convenience trope or the hero and heroine being from different classes trope. Then there is the trope where the entitled hero, who has always been able to have what he wants, suddenly finds the heroine saying no to him. The cheek! I must admit that it is tremendously exciting to have all these stories I have yet to explore.

But you never know. Perhaps one day I’ll write about a poor, untitled gentleman with a heart of gold and the beauty of Apollo. As for my heroine, she can be a widowed duchess who falls head over heels in lust with the hero. That sounds like a fun romp, doesn’t it? Stay tuned!

Melody "Tweety" Tweedy asks: What IS sexy?

Coming up with erotic romance plots is all about inspiration. What is sexy? What sort of situations would turn my readers on?

The first step is to choose a setting. Gym? Fire station? Antiques roadshow? On the hunt for Al Qaeda?

Make it as daring and/or exotic as you like. In fact, sometimes random-er is better! A really strange set-up will force you to start in imaginative overdrive mode, sometimes called (admittedly by me only) the “naughty scenario first wind”, or NSFW (which I like because it is already an acronym for not-safe-for-work, and if you’re doing this right your naughty book will not be appearing on any workplace Kobos).

Always start in overdrive. This comes in handy when setting up the all-important “sexy pretext”. You have to think of a way to get your characters aroused by each other (perhaps a context where they're scantily clad in each other’s presence) but you have to create a barrier that prevents them from just tearing each other’s clothes off straight away. Maybe they're attending that nudist colony for research purposes (both are journalists). Maybe the hunt for Al Qaeda takes them to a fundamentalist country where canoodling will have you arrested. And so on.

Detail is the icing on the cake of a sexy scenario. It would not be a basketball court sex scene without, for example, the following (and this is just off the top of my head):

-        rubber balls squeaking against the court

-        synthetic shorts housing warm man-parts (acres of tightly-pack cock right there)

-        a referee’s whistle trilling like a bird after every foul (have the heroine reflect that the tiny creature is the size of one of the hero's mighty palm calluses).

-        thighs that contain more hard planes than a granite cliff-side. 

And yes, that’s just the beginning. However (relief!) once the scene is established and a few vivid details have sprung out of your imagination, the rest will pretty much write itself.

That squeaky rubber basketball sound? Ah, of course it echoes the sound the heroine will make when she's penetrated during half time *Jane Austen voice* (I always try to craft paragraphs with an English-dame monologue in my head because it makes me feel classier and less porn-y).

“Acres of tightly-packed cock”? Aha! I must have the players line up in lycra shorts so the heroine can mutter that million-dollar line.

So on, and so on. And remember – you cannot rely on the tropes and ideas of the women who came before you. This is not physics where, like Newton, you may “see far by standing on the shoulders of giants”. You must innovate!

Creating sexy plots is pretty much like re-inventing the wheel, every time. Again and again. No one likes a tired old cliché. Remember that romances are still (way too often) referred to sneeringly as “bodice-rippers”. Stay away from the tropes, and thumb your nose at the naysayers. Hit ‘em where it hurts and give them an awed sense of “I can’t believe this bitch went there” (and I can’t stop reading).

To keep my finger on the pulse of contemporary sexiness, I make sure to check out sex-related Twitter hashtags on a regular basis. #sexy is an oldie but a goodie. #thiscouldbeus will give you lots of ideas about what people are aspiring to these days in their romantic imaginations.

Others include: byfoar geeemawl okaymauricio hipstermermaid

The Twitter hashtag #thiscouldbeus also spawned a brilliant Prince song: 

#Iwokeuplikethis will bring up (thanks Beyonce) a slew of images of people looking their sexiest (or what they consider to be their sexiest). This will either give you a deep insight into the nature of contemporary glamour-aspiration and the way people believe they ought to present themselves to their peers, or leave you crying/laughing at the misguidedness of the world (so many duckfaces before those heads even left the pillows!).

Happy scene-sculpting word nerds! Sculpt like you would a date-night cheekbone. Let the noun be your bronzer, and the adjective your highlight, and may your plots be sharper than a Kardashian contour.

[image error]

 

Melody "Tweety" Tweedy

The Coffee Is Revolting…

How many times have you heard the expression “less than the price of a cup of coffee”?

It’s a really (really) popular marketing for e-books because, well, most e-books cost less than the price of a cup of coffee.

But! Did anyone stop to ask how coffee feels about such price exploitation? Do e-books make coffee feel anxious about being over-priced? The liquid equivalent of mutton dressed as lamb?

Do you think coffee analyses all the sweeping statements said about it and stares in the mirror asking itself “but which brand of coffee?” “Are they talking instant or real?” “Gloria Jeans or Dome?” “Do they mean Barista blend, or what George Glooney drinks, or that muck we have in the lunch room at work?”

The coffee wants a break from the e-book comparisons. You know it.

We challenge e-book authors to come up with an alternative comparison to sell their book, and because she’s a helpful kind of ninja, Lily found some alternatives.

Yes. It’s a spaghetti strainer (I think). When I price-checked it, it was less than $4.

Or there’s these:

 

But that’s kind of long to tweet. See how coffee suffers from being only six letters long?

But wait. There’s more... just look at what coffee has to put up with? It’s hardly fair now is it?

We need a new hashtag. It should be: #NotExploitingCoffee

I’m starting now! I promise never to do the “Less than a price of a cup of coffee” thing with one of my books, ever again.

Dear Coffee, I hope you’re grateful.

Love Lily

xx

Giveaway and Sneak Peek: So Far Into You (two copies to be won)

Lily ‘Beanie Queen’ Malone has a new book out in October called So Far Into You.

So Far Into You is a contemporary novel set in the stunning wine regions of Margaret River in Western Australia, and the Adelaide Hills in South Australia. Lily, born in the Margaret River area, grew up there before getting conned into marrying a bright-eyed South Aussie boy who spirited her back to his roots in South Australia. Lily spent 12 years in Hahndorf, a tourist town in the Adelaide Hills, before returning with her family to Margaret River in 2013.

"Something I always loved to do when I was a girl was bushwalking and more particularly in October, bushwalking to find native orchids growing wild," Lily says. "There’s a particular track that became like a tryst for me to walk at least once every spring. Even when I lived away but came back to Margaret River on holidays to visit my mother or sister, I’d plan that trip hoping I’d manage to hit the wildflower season."

The track Lily’s talking about veers off a gravel road running West off Caves Road that runs through National Park at the back of Ellensbrook Homestead. “Ellensbrook is important to me too,” Lily says. “It’s where I got married.”

With all this mushy romance of Lily’s favourite walk and the place where she tied the knot, is it any wonder she set up Seth and Remy’s first kiss in So Far Into You at a picnic at a secret spot on her favourite Ellensbrook walking track? Here’s a sneak peek of the scene below...

GIVEAWAY: Where’s your favourite spot for a picnic? Let us know (by leaving a comment below, or using the contact form for this site) and you could win an e-copy of So Far Into You. Lily has two copies to give away.

Excerpt from So Far Into You

The track got narrower and more rutted, before it finished at a gate where a sign said private property. There was a small flat area of grass by the track and Seth parked. They both got out of the car.

They were under tall, thick peppermint trees that flanked a meandering stream. The gurgle of the water and the whistle of birds were all she could hear. Everything smelled like rain.

‘It’s pretty.’

‘That’s the Ellen Brook.’

‘Is it private property?’

‘That place there is,’ he indicated the gate. ‘Where we’re going, it’s all National Park.’

He fished his picnic box out of the back of the car and put the contents in a backpack that he slung over his shoulders. ‘Come on, we go this way.’

He nodded toward a narrow bridge that crossed the stream and opened into a paddock beyond.

Seth glanced at Remy. Most of the time her gaze was on the bush by the track as she walked easily through the thick yellowish sand, even though they tramped steadily uphill. Sometimes he’d catch her taking a deep breath in, like she was sifting all the sights and scents of the bush through her lungs, and she’d smile as she’d breathe out.

‘Look out, Seth.’

She’d said that a couple of times now, because he’d been watching her and not where he was going and he’d been about to trample some little plant she thought precious. ‘You get any closer you’ll step on that cowslip.’

She pointed out a dainty yellow flower. An orchid, she told him, a triple-header. She said it with something close to reverence.

He felt like he could talk to her for a year and there’d still be more to learn. She intrigued him and he didn’t know why. So what if she was easy to look at? So what if she glided at his side, natural as the stream slipping beside them.

He’d known plenty of stunning women with a walk that could stop traffic.

Seth didn’t believe in fairytales. The only thing he’d ever loved at first sight was a Monaro and when he’d loved that car, he’d been seventeen.

‘There’s a double spider orchid.’ She’d stopped a few steps behind him with her finger on the stalk to display it. He felt almost guilty for missing it.

‘Yeah. It’s beautiful.’ So are you.

‘You didn’t even look at it,’ she admonished him. ‘It’s so fleeting, wildflower season down here. You can miss it by a week. We’re so lucky to see this.’

He stepped over a log that had crashed on the path during last year’s controlled burns and held out his hand to help her.

‘I’m okay. Thanks though.’ Her gaze was on his face in that second before she returned her attention to the track and the bush and the flowers.

‘When did you last take a girl on a bushwalk and a picnic?’ She asked him.

He didn’t have to think about it: ‘I took a girl called Leeanne to a waterfall at Moses Rock.’ He’d kissed her there too, spread out on the blanket while the casserole he’d made cooked in a camp oven. He’d been damn proud of that casserole.

‘Did you kiss her?’

‘I did.’

‘Did you like it?’

‘It was okay.’

‘Did she like it?’

‘She let me do it again.’

Remy blushed, and found a bunch of donkey orchids to show him.

August Winner!

So, this picture has nothing to do with this month's winner of our newsletter subscriber prize, but who cares? Just admire the awesome muppet S&M. Anyway, the winner of the Amazon gift card is Hannah Howden. Congrats Hannah!

Win more things to read!

Sarah 'Sizzling Yoga Pants' Belle wants all you young 'uns to read your brains out so she's offering a $15 Amazon gift card to one Naughty Ninja newsletter subscriber in August. If you're not already subscribed, whaddya waiting for? Join here, and you could be buying your next book courtesy of Sarah's sizzling yoga pants. We'll announce the winner at the end of August.

A billionaire dinosaur forced me to read literary fiction

To help break down the myth that readers of literary fiction never read genre fiction (and NEVER read romance), and that romance readers never touch books that aren’t about romance, and NEVER read literary fiction, here’s a list of some of my favourite literary reads. Note that the first three are a testament to my love of all things German.

 

The song before it is sung (by Justin Cartwright) 

Because of my love of the German language, stories that refer to German history really double click my mouse. So this book about a man who is given the letters of an executed German count who tried to assassinate Hitler, and is tasked with writing his story, really appealed to me. The central character is a writer and after reading the letters he becomes obsessed with finding the film of the count’s execution (and with his life in general). A fascinating exploration of guilt, friendship, voyeurism and morality. I want to read it again now.

The zookeeper’s war (by Steven Conte)

Another story about the Second World War (see, I told you I was a germanophile). Set in Berlin, the story is about an Australian woman and her German husband, the zoo director, who struggle to look after the zoo animals during air raids and shortages. Tension mounts as forced labour is brought in to replace conscripted zoo staff, an affair blooms, and as the fall of Berlin creeps closer.

The Berlin crossing (by Kevin Brophy)

Do you see a theme here? Set in Brandenburg in 1993 (after the wall has come down) this story is about a teacher fired from his job by his new West German headmaster for being socialist, former Party member (in East Germany). He heads home to care for his terminally ill mother who, before she dies, tells him how to find out about the father he never knew. In doing so he learns the dark truth of what both of them suffered before the wall fell. 

Other country (by Stephen Scourfield)

I would never have guessed that the story of two brothers living in the Top End, both deeply scarred by their abusive father, would have appealed to me, but, oh, I was so wrong. Their struggle to overcome their past and avoid becoming like their father sounds so male-focused I thought I’d have a hard time identifying, but the writing is so stark and beautiful that it just grabbed me and didn’t let go.

Handling the Undead (by John Ajvide Lindqvist—god I love Swedish names)

Lindqvist is best known for writing the novel that the movie Let the Right One In is based on, but I haven’t read that book or seen the movie. Handling the Undead is set in Stockholm and the story focuses on what happens when the dead come back to life, not like zombies but not exactly like their former selves either. This book was very emotional in an understated sort of way and its handling of love and death fascinating. 

A wolf at the table (by Augusten Burroughs)

A memoir by author Burroughs, famous for the book Running with Scissors, this is the best told and most memorable memoir I’ve ever read. Given that his father appears to have been a sociopath or psychopath (or some kind of ‘path’) it’s a wonder Burroughs survived his childhood, let alone was able to go on to become a writer and write about his experience. With its black humour and deft style, I won’t ever forget this book, it’s permanently etched in my memory.

Homer and Langley (by E.L. Doctorow)

Born into a wealthy New York family, the brothers Homer and Langley seem destined for a charmed life. But everything changes when (in their teens) one loses his sight and the other has his lungs seared by gas in Europe during the First World War, and both lose their parents to the influenza epidemic of 1918. The story follows their lives and despite the way they try to insulate themselves from the world by hiding in their parents mansion, the outer world always finds a way in. I loved how the brothers’ story traced the change in society from 1918 to the 1970s (despite the two characters being shut-ins) and their bond is so strongly captured that at one point I blubbed while reading the story. 

So there you have it, seven literary novels that I enjoyed in between consuming my usual romance fodder. This contradicts the belief pulled from some people's rectal area that romance novels only appeal to people who don't read literary fiction.  

Sarah 'sizzling yoga pants' Belle reveals her muse

There’s nothing more gratifying, as a writer, than when the creative juices are flowing like a never ending bottle of heated massage oil in the willing hands of Cristiano Ronaldo. Mmmmm ... Cristiano!

The words spill onto the page as characters and plots dance and sing themselves into writing nirvana. On the flip side, writer’s block sucks. Big time. Its suck-power can only be rivalled by Linda Lovelace. It’s the suckiest suck-suck ever.

Staring at am empty computer screen is not only frustrating, it’s scary as well because what if the wordy-magic has disappeared? What if this isn’t a phase or a temporary setback? What if I never write anything ever again? Not even a Christmas card? Arrrrgggghhhhhhh!

We’ve all experienced this, right? Terrifying periods of time when the words won’t come, and those that do would be thrashed in a writing competition by a fourth-grader. Yeah, you know it, even as they fill the screen the little voice in your head is saying ‘WTF is this crap?’

However, as a writer, a creator, have you ever questioned the source of your inspiration?

For centuries writers have referred to the concept of the Muse, either as a source of inspiration or requesting to be a vessel through which the muses’ creativity passes, implying that the work is a product of the muse, not the author. These writers include greats such as:

Dante, Shakespeare (both of whom referred to their muses in their works), Homer, Chaucer and Milton. And some of the Naughty Ninjas.

According to history, the nine muses of ancient Greece were the daughters of Zeus and his Titan lover, Mnemosyne, the goddess and personification of memory (yeah, try winning an argument against her. Not only was she a kick-ass Titan but she had the best memory in the universe ever! Zeus had no hope.) Calliope, Clio, Nelpomene, Enterpe, Erato (muse of love and erotic poetry), Terpschore, Urania, Thalia  and Polymnia presided over the arts and sciences, and inspired all mankind in such pursuits.

Their function was to bestow the gift of creativity on a chosen vessel, which they then continued to bless in the quest for artistic bliss. Sounds good, huh?

However, pissing off a muse resulted in more than just writer’s block. The poet Thamyris was struck blind and dumb when he challenged the muses, while the nine daughters of Pierus were turned into birds for their audacity. (Mental note: don’t get sassy with the muse.)

Apollo was the Greek god of poetry. In fact, most ancient civilisations have a god or deity of poetry (from which plays, epistles and, later, novels sprouted), including the Romans, Mesopotamians, the Norse, Chinese, Egyptian and Japanese. There were muses everywhere. But where have they gone? Have they been replaced by caffeine, sugar overload and alcohol?

Has the source of your creative power (or during writer’s block your lack of creative power) ever sparked a request to a muse, the universe, your sleeping cat, your empty coffee cup or bottle of Merlot for some good writing juju? Maybe you’ve overdosed on vitamin tablets or snorted jelly crystals to get you through the trials and tribulations of blank-screenitis?

A quick survey of the Naughty Ninjas revealed that their creative juices have been stirred by newspapers, raunchy naked men,  a lone house in a graveyard of property after a bushfire, reality television, movies, raunchy naked men, conversations, dreams, lost iPads, a red Ducati, raunchy and naked men, and muses that suffer ADHD and have the bad habit of buggering off mid-story.  Ninja perceptiveness results in observations being stealthily stored in the subconscious and conscious mind until they weave themselves into something resembling a story or a character. There’s also raunchy naked men, did I mention that already?

So from whichever fountain of creativity your inspiration flows, whether it has a Greek name or not, chesticles, well defined biceps and quadriceps, whether it’s a raunchy naked man (seems to be a theme here), is a legal stimulant, or is found in the uninspiring packaging of a Homebrand jelly crystal box, channel it. Nurture it and get that sign ready to hang on your writing space wall...

Cate Ellink studies Married At First Sight

In Australia recently this TV show aired called Married At First Sight. I’m not a great fan of reality TV shows but when I heard about this one, my ears pricked.

“Experts” were choosing couples in an “experiment” to see if they could “get it right”. Could they find love for people who hadn’t found love for themselves?

As a romance writer, I’m often faced with my characters being too alike – there isn’t a great divide separating my heroines and heroes. If I try to make them opposites, or too different, I feel false and struggle to work out how they could possibly get together, or even like one another. So this was a chance for me to learn from experts as to pairings – and maybe see some succeed that I didn’t expect to work.

Plus, I have a science background, and this is an experiment – how could I resist?

Weeks 1 and 2 were meeting the couples and watching their wedding and reception. I took notes. (I know, sometimes I horrify myself too!) These are my notes (copied word for word) and [ ] indicates later thoughts added now.

Roni & Michael

Can two people with big friendship groups merge? Would it be better for one loner & one big person? [meaning big friendship groups, not big sized, of course]

She’s been married; he’s only had short-term [relationship]s – how does that work maturity-wise?

[At their wedding, they were really showy, flirty, over the top, which made me wonder how they’d be together without a crowd to play for.]

Clare & Lachlan

Common goal: kids. Is that enough?

She’s fiery … is that too much for him? [he’s laid back and calm]

She’s city & he’s a farmer…clash? [But later I wrote ‘affluent’ near farmer, so that changed my opinion a bit]

Zoe & Alex

Cultural differences

‘class’ differences: she’s stuck up, over-the-top; he’s relaxed suburban

She’s needy & he can’t give

[I later realised she wasn’t so stuck up, or OTT, or needy, and he could give – not sure why those were my impressions initially]

Michelle & James

Seem good and solid.

(End of notes.)

The couples first met at their commitment ceremony (marriage) in front of friends and family. They had a ‘reception’, went on a ‘honeymoon’ and ‘moved in together’ over the course of one month.

In about the third episode, all four couples met for dinner, the first time they’d all met each other, and this was brilliant. The experts watched from hidden cameras and commented on what they were seeing. It was pretty obvious that one couple just hadn’t got together. They sat apart, didn’t touch, didn’t support each other in conversation, and were quite different to the other couples.

Then when the girls and the guys separated and got chatting, the ‘estranged’ couple were the ones who hadn’t had sex (Roni & Michael – overly demonstrative in a crowd, distant together). One of the pair had sex on the first night (Lachlan & Clare), another on night two (Alex & Zoe), and the third didn’t say when (Michelle & James). The experts said that sexual intimacy was important for the experiment as it increased the bonding and trust between the couple.

Before the end of the experiment, Roni and Michael parted ways. He said there was no chemistry between them. From an outsider watching, he didn’t seem to give much to the relationship – he was guarded, hesitant, didn’t share a lot – and she backed away as he did. I think he was really put off by her previous marriage, and by her larger-than-life personality. It seemed like she over-shadowed him at times and he couldn’t handle that. Not sure, we only see what the TV producers want us to see.

The other 3 couples continued after the experiment. But 2 months after, Michelle & James had broken up. In the last week of the experiment, Michelle had gone to James’ parents place. They’d decided to sell the farm and seemed to spring the news on James, who didn’t seem to be expecting to hear that. He withdrew, and Michelle lost confidence in the relationship. She never got that back.

A year after the experiment, Lachlan and Clare has also split. She was quite fiery and argumentative and loud. He didn’t like that but they kept coming back together and talking things out. I don’t know what happened over that year but I wonder if she never stopped that pattern of behaviour? She also had a very busy life and didn’t seem willing to give up any hobbies to spend time with him – I wonder if that played a role too? We’ll never know.

Alex and Zoe remained together. And from my notes, you’ll see that I thought they were the least compatible couple…yet they worked. I’ve been wondering why, and here are my theories:

Communication: these two talked a lot. They ate dinner together and chatted about themselves, not so much their day but what they wanted for the future, where they’d been in the past, how they were different.

Open Minded: both came into the experiment to find love and were willing to give things up for it. Alex went to the city and checked out Zoe’s city-life even though it wasn’t his cup of tea. He also went to the Art Gallery with her and took an interest in the art (which she loved). Zoe lived in the suburbs with Alex catching public transport to work (which she’d never done), she tried her hand at cooking and being domestic, she embraced his dog.

They had good friends who gave good advice: early on, a friend of Zoe’s said to her (not in these words) you’re just being a bitch, if you don’t whinge about where he lives, what he wears, and what he does, is he a decent person? You could see Zoe stop and listen. It probably took her a while to let that soak in…but she did…and she learned from it.

Married At First Sight taught me that sometimes opposites do work, especially when they’re prepared to work at their relationship, acknowledge and accept their differences, learn from each other, and aim towards a future together.

Watch out! I might have to write about a couple who you’d never think could make it!

Did you watch the show? What did you think of the couples and the results of the experiment?