Deanndra Hall's Blog, page 5

My Reads: One to Protect by Tia Louise

(Before I launch into this post, yes, there wasn't one last week. I'm fully aware of that. I was on VACATION. And I had no wi-fi service, a thing about which I was most unhappy. Sorry. I'll try not to let that happen again.)

Sometimes you find that series that you want more of. I've found that one. It's Tia Louise's One to Hold series. And guess what?

Tomorrow, the fourth book in the series, One to Love, is being released! 
I'm pretty happy about that. Can you tell?

So, in case you haven't read them all (and I hope you have so, if not, GET BUSY!), today I'm featuring the third book, One to Protect.


The new book is one I'd been hoping for. It's the story of Kenny. Don't know who Kenny is? READ THE BOOKS. No, Kenny is not a guy. Also not a dog. And that's as far as I'm going with that. You can find out tomorrow. In the meantime, let me tell you about it's immediate predecessor, One to Protect.

In One to Hold, we met Derek, Melissa, Patrick, and Elaine. Oh, yeah, and don't forget Sloan, although I'd like to. In One to Keep, we got to hear more from Patrick and get more of the story of his burgeoning relationship with Elaine,, plus we were introduced to Kenny. Then comes One to Protect. We finally, finally, get to hear more from Derek. I'd been waiting for this. Why?

Because I love Derek. If you've read my books, you know who Vic Cabrizzi is, and Derek Alexander is Tia's Vic. And we all know EVERYBODY loves Vic. Derek is big, beautiful, loving, and deadly. He knows how to protect the woman he loves, and that's a tall order, because Melissa's ex, Sloan, doesn't give up easily. Sloan is, after all, the way they met. The book opens as they get more information on exactly what kind of person Sloan is, and he's the worst kind.

I also loved that Star got more of a role in this book. I'm hoping we'll see more of her in subsequent books, but I love the growth we see in her in this particular work. It's refreshing to watch an author take a character who seems useless and turn them into someone you can really sink your teeth into.

There's only one problem: I see trouble down the way for Derek, Patrick, and Star, which automatically translates into trouble for Melissa and Elaine. Fortunately, the biggest problem is gone - permanently. But this book left me a little worried, and I'm hoping books past this one let me off the hook.

I loved everything about this book, but, like I said before, I especially loved Derek. I want to hear more from him in the future, and I'm pretty sure that's going to happen. But I know who the new book is about, and that means I'll have to wait for more Derek and Melissa.

So if you haven't started this series, what are you waiting for? Am I buying the new one tomorrow?

What do you think?

Why women don't want to have sex

I got into an interesting conversation with someone about a little over a week ago. We were talking about men and women and sex and our conversation was quite pointed in some regards. It set me to thinking about a great many things, but there was one thing I kept coming back to.
Why don’t women want to have sex?



Men ask that question all the time. There are even jokes about it: What’s the best birth control you can get? Wedding cake.
Asshats.
But seriously, men do ask this question all the time, or some variation of it. Why doesn’t my wife want to have sex? Why isn’t my wife interested in sex? How do I get my wife to want sex? Why doesn’t my wife want to have sex anymore?
I have some really bad news for you, fellas. Really bad news. Your wife really does want to have sex.
She just doesn’t want to have it with you.
Okay, studly, now pick your jaw up off the floor and listen up. I’m going to tell you the truth, and you won’t like it, but you should probably pay attention. And I know what I’m talking about. So here goes.
First of all, here’s a truth: For men, in the arousal process, there comes a point of no return. It’s that place where, no matter what happens, he’s going to finish. It’s inevitable. There will be release for him, short of him getting run over by a train. Yeah, that’ll probably ruin his happy ending. But otherwise, he’s going to get it.
Women, on the other hand, don’t have this safety net. One wrong move, one stupid gesture, one nasty comment, and it’s over for her and the whole process has to start again. Most of the time, she’ll just tell you to not bother and roll over and go to sleep. Why? Because she knows the second time will be as frustrating and uneventful as the first. Shame, too.
Second, here’s another truth: What works for you will not work for her. Let me say this again so that you get it.
WHAT WORKS FOR YOU WILL NOT WORK FOR HER.
What do I mean? I know how you stroke yourselves. I know how you like for us to stroke you. And that kind of stroking will not work on us. Our bodies don’t respond to anything that frantic and harsh. Sometimes they will, but not usually. It’s a rarity. Not only that, but if we’re stroking you and we quit, you get all upset. But for most women (not all, but most), pausing momentarily and giving pleasure somewhere else only makes her more sensitive when you return to the previous activity. Not kidding. It really does work. And unless a woman is adequately aroused, she’s not going to have an orgasm from vaginal sex. Isn’t going to happen.
Third, it’s a damn shame I should have to tell you this, but I must: Just because you enjoyed it doesn’t mean she did. So you got your grand finale, and because it felt good to you, you’re pretty sure it felt good to her too. Not necessarily. Trust me, being your own personal cum dump doesn’t do a damn thing for her. Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. It’s just become all about you and not at all about her.
Fourth, here’s one that you not might know: By nature, women’s bodies work in an orderly fashion. Here’s what I mean: If you give a woman an orgasm through manual stimulation, her body is automatically going to want vaginal sex, possibly even beg for it. It’s inevitable. Why, you ask? Because it was nature’s way of making sure that pregnancy took place. It’s all about the chemicals released during sex (don’t make me go into all that detail, please – it’ll suck all the fun out of this post) and the way they change the body as they are synthesized. They’re mostly things like dopamine and serotonin and stuff like that, neurotransmitters, and they’re all-important in the sexual satisfaction process. I know, it’s complicated. It’s chemistry. Isn’t that what it’s supposed to be about anyway?
That was a joke. Chill out. This is not a college chemistry course, and no, there is no opportunity for extra credit.
Fifth, and remember I said this: Grow your ass up. No woman wants to fuck a guy who acts like a twelve year old. Don’t know what I mean? Leave a mess in the kitchen. Drop your dirty clothes in the floor. Drive her car and leave it on empty. Stop at the store and get only the things you want when you know she has a list a mile long. Sit around and watch TV while she works her ass off. Complain about how you don't want to go down on her because you just don't care about it and it doesn't do anything for you.
And whine like a little bitch about how you don’t get enough sex. Oh, yeah, that works every time, right?
Sixth and finally: Did it ever occur to you to ask her what she wants? You know, you might just try that. You might be surprised at what she says. Of course, there is one difficulty here. It’s probably been so long since you’ve asked her or cared what she said if you did ask that, bless her heart, she has no idea what she needs or wants. She probably used to know, but by now she’s completely forgotten. She doesn’t remember what feels good, or what got her aroused, or what she needs to feel “in the mood.” And that brings me to something else entirely.
I see the windup for the pitch. No rotten tomatoes, please, but ladies, I’m going to drag you into the fray. And here’s what I want to say to you.
Talk to him . Tell him what you want and need. Use your mouth for more than bitching. Be specific. Stop him if it doesn’t feel good. Tell him, “A little to the left, honey.” If he’s trying but obviously doesn’t understand, try to explain. You may even have to demonstrate, so get over any shyness. You’re naked, after all. How much harder can it be to talk to him? If he just doesn’t get it but he’s trying, tell him maybe you can practice sometime in the daylight. Buy some books. Go to the adult store together and look at some things you might want to try. In short, communicate. If you don’t, it’s no one’s fault but your own.
But if you do and he just doesn’t seem to care and just goes on his merry way, as I see it, you’ve got two options. You can just grin and bear it.

Or you can go find yourself a man who really does care. Because in case you haven’t figured it out by now, life’s too short to put up with pitiful sex.

Why I write "porn"

Why do I do what I do?
Well, why not?


I’m looking for a really good reason to feel bad about my chosen profession, and I’m just not coming up with anything. You see, it goes like this:
This week, I ran into someone I hadn’t seen in a while. She proceeded to ask me if I was still doing any textile work, to which I replied in the negative. She asked me what I was doing. I said, “Writing.” She asked me what I was writing. I said, “Books.” She asked me what kinds of books. I said, “Erotic romance and erotica.” She asked if I was actually selling them. I said, “Yes.” Then she said something that nearly knocked me off my feet.
“I’d rather stay poor than delve into something like that.”
Spoken like a woman who married a gay man to bring him to the United States so he could get his citizenship, and then acted surprised when his lover came and picked him up and took him away and he asked for a divorce. Because she’s that woman.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not casting judgment. I’m just saying – how can she judge me?
So I guess I’m wondering what’s wrong with what I do. I make people happy, obviously. They read and like my books. They come back for more. They promote them amongst their friends, family, and Facebook community.
And they do something else too. They talk to me. You know how women talk to their hairdressers and men talk to bartenders? Well, people talk to me, mostly women, but some men. They ask me questions about sex. Funny thing is, I’m surprised at how often I actually know the answers. One person even said, "I guess you get tired of people picking your brain about this stuff." On the contrary. If I can answer their questions, I will. I'm no expert, but I try, and if I don't know the answer, I'll say so. On top of that, I’m honest with them and transparent. I have a policy of transparency: Ask me anything you want and I’ll answer it. If it’s too personal, I’ll tell you, but I’ll probably still answer it.
Note: This does not mean you can ask me if I have big boobs or like big cocks. It does not mean you can ask me if I do my own research and would I like to have you as a research partner. Fuck off. You know exactly who you are.
As I was saying, I’ll answer most any questions. I really don’t mind. And I’ve gotten into some really interesting conversations with people in PMs. Had one last night that, quite frankly, is going to be next week’s blog topic, so thanks, Ken! You’re an inspiration. Literally.
But I do have these kinds of conversations, and they’re wonderful. There are women, especially young women, who’ve told me that they were repressed or afraid or unsure until they read my books and got to know the characters. I think that’s because in Laying a Foundation, we get acquainted with a guy, a good-looking, successful, self-made guy, who realizes that even though he’s well over fifty, he spent so many years with a mentally ill lunatic of a wife, then so many years afraid of a relationship because of same mentally ill lunatic ex-wife, that he has nothing to offer a potential partner sexually because he has so little experience. He goes out in search of that experience, and what he’s taught enables him to find the woman with whom he wants to spend the rest of his life. The reader gets to go along as the two of them finally explore their sexual possibilities together and reach a level of not only sexual satisfaction but intimacy that neither of them had enjoyed before. It’s mind-blowing sex within the context of a loving, healthy relationship between two adults who finally find the person they’re meant to spend the rest of their lives with.
And for that I’m looked down upon? Does that seem right? Here’s another scenario.
I was in this group and this young woman joined us. She introduced herself and asked what everyone wrote. I was the first to welcome her and I told her that I write erotic romance and erotica. She then said that she didn’t write that weird stuff.
Okay, that kinda frosted me, but I kept my mouth shut – for a little while. After a couple of other people responded the same way and she kept making disparaging remarks, I directed a comment to her in which I told her that there were several of us who wrote in the erotic realm in the group, that we made money at it, and we had no intention of quitting anytime soon. She then said she didn’t mean any offense – she’d actually written some of that smut before, but she’d never publish any of it.
By the time I made it to my street team page, I was fuming. And when I told them what had happened, one lovely young lady reminded me that there’s nothing wrong with what I write and I should be proud. I should be proud to be a smut writer.
And now you know where the motto on my banner came from. I should also note here that the girl went by the last name of Sparklepants. Yeah, exactly. How ‘bout them apples? And she called my writing weird and smutty? As I recall, she writes paranormal. At least I do write about things that could actually happen (no offense to my paranormal publishing friends – I like paranormal just fine, but we all there aren’t really vampires, right?).
My point is this: I don’t think it’s okay for some sexually-repressed, straight-laced, stick-up-their-butts people to judge me for what I write. I’m no longer invited to some relatives’ homes, and I think it’s because they think I carry a dildo in my purse and I’m going to start talking about squirting in front of their small children. They seem to not be able to see that I’m the same person they knew before, just new and improved (whether they think so or not). I’m having fun, trying to make some money with this gig, and way more sexually liberated than they are. Jealous asses. I can’t help it that I’m having a good time and they’re not. Maybe they should let their chastity belts out a notch and get comfortable. Hell, they’re married – it’s my personal opinion that they should stop wearing the damn things altogether.
I’m going to write this shit. I’m going to write it forever, and I’m going to write it as raunchy and bawdy and sexy and hot as I want. And if they don’t like it, they don’t have to read it. They can sit around and be frigid until the cows come home. Funny part?

I bet their husbands would like it if they’d buy every one of my books. And I’m going to talk about that next week. So you might as well get your fire extinguishers ready.

My Reads: Catching Kate by Dee Kelly

I’d been waiting to read this, wondering how it was going to go. The first book stopped in an odd place a la One to Keep by Tia Louise (you remember that one from a few weeks ago, right?). This book is a novella that takes us back to the origins of the whole story. It’s called Catching Kate: The Acceptance Series by Dee Kelly.


I won’t say where we dropped off the map in the first book, because that would spoil some of the fun. Let’s just say a couple of people are in a sticky wicket. But in Catching Kate, we discover who Kate, Jess, and Michael really are because we learn everything about their background, and we do it through Michael’s voice. And that, to me, was the interesting part.
Because Michael’s a self-serving pig in some ways. He becomes quite the man-whore, but there’s a reason: He’s still hurting from the way everything went down when things came apart for him and Kate. Even so, his behavior was deplorable. Bless his heart, if things could be made worse, he’d definitely find a way to do it. It’s as though he has a relationship death wish, and he carries out the deaths with precision and total thoughtlessness, god help him. It’s hard to have sympathy for him.
But I do – I don’t want to, but I do. I can’t help but. He’s such a broken man-child that I can’t help it. But what makes me angry with Michael is his unwillingness to go back and make things right. Yes, he wants to . . . eventually. I don’t know what he thinks will happen in the meantime. She’ll just sit around waiting for him? He says he’ll honor a relationship if she’s in one, but I really think he had no intention of doing that. He just assumed that if and when he came back, she’d be waiting for him.
And that’s not the case. But things are VERY different from what he’d imagined. No spoilers here – you’ll have to read it – but I found myself feeling sorry for him and being infuriated at him at the same time. You know that old saying, if you snooze, you lose? Yep. Pretty well sums it up here.

I think the thing I liked about this book was Dee’s ability to capture the emotions of a group of small children and teenagers, and especially through the eyes of a boy/man. I was impressed with that aspect of the writing. Now I’m looking forward to the second book in the series, Releasing Kate. I want to see what happens with Vanessa!

And the cops said, "Sexual paraphernalia"

Big excitement in a little bitty place, it was. Twelve men arrested for soliciting prostitution, and one woman for being more than happy to oblige. The worst part?

I know one of these guys. From a religious organization of which I used to be a part. If that doesn't take the cake.

http://westkentuckystar.com/News/Loca...

So I read it with interest to see what happened. The cops placed an ad, I'm guessing on Craigslist, and then sat back and waited for the calls to come in. And come in they did - so many, in fact, that they set up the whole scenario and waited for the johns to come.

And come they did. Some of them had weapons. I mean, if you were going to a strange hotel to meet a hooker, you'd take a gun, right? I think I would. That made sense to me. A couple of them had pot. Wow. What a horrible thing. Money was confiscated, as well as their cell phones. But here's the one that got me.

Sexual paraphernalia.



What exactly are they talking about?

I hope to god they're not talking about handcuffs, because every cop in the room had some of those. After all, I don't know if you've noticed, but every damn adult store in the world has handcuffs. Hell, one of the erotic romance writers who's also a police officer demonstrated her favorite ones last week at the convention I attended. She was pretty excited to do so, and so were some of the people who went up and let her cuff them. It was a hoot.

So they confiscated sexual paraphernalia. I started a thread on my Facebook page today, and it was telling. The question was, "So what constitutes a 'sexual implement?'" I got some interesting comments on that one, let me tell you.

I did wonder, however, why they would confiscate said "sexual paraphernalia." I mean, it's not illegal, right? At least not that I'm aware of. Otherwise, that privacy fence they have around Romantix here would be twice as high and you sure as shit wouldn't be able to see through it like you can now.



Was it proof that they came there to have sex? If so, every single woman who buys a cucumber at the grocery should be arrested, right? I mean, it's obvious they're going to have sex. Or make a salad. Either is apparently a crime . . . somehow. Because, quite frankly, the folks who responded to my question appeared to have no compunction in using anything and everything around the house that wasn't nailed down - except for a poopy diaper, one person pointed out, to which I reminded her that some people (weird people, but still) might actually find that arousing in a hideously uncomfortable way. Yeah, it is what it is, all right. But anyway, there you have it.

I have these cool swag bags. Everybody who's gotten one seems to love them. Inside the cute little cellophane bags with my street team labels on the front are bookmarks, postcards, a temporary tattoo, and a measuring spoon that says, "Deanndra Hall - erotic romance that measures up." (Yeah, I thought that up myself. Clever, huh?) But there's also a spatula. Okay, some people call it a scraper, but I call it a spatula. Anyway, in keeping with my construction theme, the handle is yellow and in stenciled letters, it says, "MULTI-PURPOSE TOOL - Let's 'whip up' some romance." Get it?

It wouldn't surprise me to have the McCracken County Sheriff's Department come rushing in just any day to confiscate my spatulas as "sexual paraphernalia." Maybe they'll take my clothespins and other things lying around because those automatically mean I'm going to have sex (god, I hope so). Of course, if they touch my Hitachi, they'll have to die. I won't stand for that. I'd rather go down in a blaze of glory than to lose that thing.

Is this what they mean by a "double dong?" I don't think so . . .
The lesson here is simple: If you have a socko paddle, hide it. Don't leave your gator clamps lying about, even if you've been using them to clamp two pieces of wood together. No, not that kind of wood. Real wood. Never mind. Make sure you bring in the laundry and hide the clothespins. Absolutely, positive hide all of the tape and string you have lying around. And whatever you do, get rid of any flavored lip gloss you might have. That'll get you hard time, my friend. And even though there was no pun intended on that one, it was still funny, don't you think? Hard time? Right.

I have this model of the Eiffel Tower. I suppose I should put that thing away. Because if they happened to see the takeover I did last night, well, you never know . . . orange doesn't look good on me at all.

My Reads: The Dieter's Guide to Weight Loss During Sex by Richard Smith

I've been wanting to bring something different to the table, so when I thought of this book, I naturally decided it was a perfect fit for this blog. I became acquainted with it at an early age; my mother won it as a gag gift at a store party when she worked for Sears. What was especially funny about this especially funny book is that if you knew my mother, you'd know that it was completely wasted on her. She wasn't going to have sex, so she'd just have to find another way to lose weight. What is this book, you ask? It's The Dieter's Guide to Weight Loss During Sex by Richard Smith.

If you're having trouble removing those last few stubborn pounds, this book just might be your answer. It starts off in the acknowledgements with the statement, "There are many to whom I am indebted but they wish, alas, to remain anonymous." And the hilarity only ramps up after that. Covering topics like "Getting Partner in Mood and Alerting Mutual Sensibilities" to "Rolling Over and Going to Sleep," all the bases are covered. There are chapters entitled "Getting Caught," "Almost Getting Caught," and "Fighting Off Pets."
And what will sex burn off exactly? Did you know that 62 minutes of chasing a partner around the room at a medium jog, or a two-hour pillow fight with 20-pound pillows, burns off one pint of ice cream. It's not specified if it's vanilla bean or rocky road, but I'm hoping it's rocky road just because I like that better.
In a chapter about becoming physically prepared for sex by conditioning, Smith says, "There are, of course, different methods of achieving erotic fitness. These include such vigorous exercise as tennis, skiing, bicycling, backgammon and sleeping on a cot." All through the book, there are tips for maximizing weight loss while still having smokin'-hot, backseat-rockin' sex you'd be proud to say you had if you were able to speak while panting from the sheer physical exertion.
All in all, the book is a veritable fount of information for the average person who simply isn't going to get out of bed to get a little exercise. It's all delivered with Smith's particular brand of humor, all tongue in cheek (no, that's not a weight loss method, although if it were glued there it would work), and just clever enough to make you ask yourself, "Hey, why didn't I think of that? Oh, yeah, there's that thing . . ." There's enough fun in this little volume to make you glad you read it, especially at the next party you attend when you get to say, "Did you know . , ."
Have fun. I'm headed in to lose 2.3 pounds.

We're not dead yet

According to this Huffington Post article (http://tinyurl.com/lzmpvps), women over fifty are still vital sexual human beings.

No shit, Sherlock. Why do you think I write erotic romance with characters over fifty? Because they can be so damn sexy!



We've all heard about cougars, right? Those women who either go after younger men or who are pursued by younger men? They're whispered about. They're talked about.

What if they're not cougars? What if they're simply looking for a man in their own age range to help them enjoy their lives, more specifically, their sex lives? Is that even possible?

Seems the answer to that is a resounding yes, if they're willing to search high and low like a lousy sherpa on Mt. Everest. But here's a cold, hard fact: Most men, even older men, want young women. They're not interested in anyone their own age. Oh, sure, some are, or at least they're faithful to the women they have, even if those women are over fifty. But most of them want a younger woman, and it even appears that they don't care if the woman is attractive, just that she's younger. I'm not sure why, unless it's status. That's all I've ever figured out.



Most of them are, or have been, married. One of the things they complain about is their wives' lack of interest in sex. Most of these women will tell you that they would be interested in sex - if the man in their life was interesting during sex. Why would you want to be with a man whose only interest is in pleasing himself, and to hell with you? Kind of explains everything, doesn't it?

If they took the time to be interesting in the sack, to actually give instead of take, they'd make a huge discovery: Older women like sex. They're good at it too. They're experienced and aren't as self-conscious as their younger counterparts. But instead of taking advantage of that, older men leave them with the idea that they're less than desirable, aren't worth the trouble, or just can't cut it, all because they want younger women to sleep with.

I have a theory. I believe that younger woman are largely inexperienced, and older men can get by with being sloppy, greedy, self-centered, selfish lovers with them because, frankly, the cute little things don't know any better.

They also talk a great deal about how women over fifty "let themselves go." Often they're talking about their wives in that respect. Many times, these women have been left to wrangle pretty much every household aspect, especially kids, without any help. They haven't let themselves go - they haven't had TIME to take care of themselves! They've been running on empty for years. I can speak to this. I'd let myself go while I raised two kids, mostly by myself, and then I'd taken care of three of the four parents within my union until they died. Let myself go? I was lucky if I could get a shower every day, much less do anything constructive for myself. After the three of them were gone, I remade myself.

And a lot of women who've "let themselves go" will tell you that's it's been a long, long, very long time since the man in their life has actually complimented them in any way. What incentive does a woman have to keep herself attractive if the one person in the world who's supposed to be attracted to her doesn't seem to give a shit?

These men also often complain that sex with their significant other is "boring." And whose responsibility is it to spice things up? Well, at least fifty percent of that responsibility is theirs and theirs alone and, if they like to be "The Man" in the relationship, then they've automatically assumed more than fifty percent. Sounds to me like they need to get on the ball. But instead, they go looking for a younger woman because SHE'S not boring to THEM. I'm betting THEY'RE boring to HER, but if she told them they were boring, they wouldn't believe it anyway. They'd just go looking for another younger woman. The acquisition and use is what makes the younger women interesting. The older guy isn't in this for conversation.

I'm well into a new book I'm writing called The Call Girl's Guide to Great Sex. I won't tell you what happens in the book, but suffice it to say that the call girl reveals the secrets of the sexual universe to someone who needs to know. And you know what they say. The truth will set you free. So let me just say this to the older men out there.

We're hot and ready, so if we don't want sex, it's because we don't want sex with YOU. Some of us have taken pretty good care of ourselves. We actually spend time trying to find clothing that accentuates our natural endowments, not trying to wear something that shows most of our skin to set off the arousal alarms in every guy up to three counties away. No, our bodies aren't as firm and luscious as they used to be, but by damn, they work well and we know what to do with them. You might want to try complimenting us occasionally. You'd be surprised what the results could be. And as for boring, listening to you snore on the sofa with the Monday night game playing in the background makes us want to rip our clothes off (and I've got a great piece of resort property in North Dakota you'd just love too). What makes you think you're so damn interesting?

I've heard that affairs in the over-fifty crowd are at an all-time high, and I think I can see why. So let me tell you about my relationship.

Three years ago I was a wreck. I'd buried three family members in eighteen months. I was grossly overweight, hideously depressed, and tired all the time. And I was in a relationship I'd decided I'd give two more years to before I bailed. It wasn't bad; he wasn't bad. It was just that apathy had eaten us alive, and we didn't even realize it. So what happened?

I decided I had to get better or die. I started eating like I had a brain and got up off my ass. I started dropping the pounds and shaping up. I got to stop taking my blood pressure medication and antidepressant. In short, I was working hard at it, and it showed.

At some point in that process, Sir said, "Wow. You're serious this time."

"Yes," I replied, serious as hell. "I've got to get my shit together. I'm going to be a young widow." He gave me a very funny, possibly scared, stare. "You're going to drop dead, the shape you're in. I've got to be ready."

He bought a gym membership too. Aha! That shook him up.

And gradually, we both came back to life. It wasn't a sudden thing, more subtle, but it worked. And let me tell you what worked.

He grew up. He stopped acting like I owed him something. He started telling me how beautiful I am, holding my hand, hugging me without expecting sex in return. He started acting like I mattered to him. He told me repeatedly how much he appreciated everything I'd done for everyone in the family. He helped out more around the house. He understood that I need peace and quiet while I'm working, not him sitting there yakking about some sports figure or what he read in National Geographic.

In return, I started going to Victoria's Secret. I bought boots, pretty, expensive boots. I let my hair grow out. I started having my nails done and having pedicures too. I helped him learn how to cook and eat healthier. I started watching football and basketball and found out I still don't understand them that well but I love them (especially collegiate ball - GO RACERS!). I quit taking verbal pot-shots at him. I started telling him how much I appreciated everything he did, does, for me.

And a funny thing happened. When all of that was in play and established, know what we did?

We set the bedroom on fire.

If your man is older and decides he wants a younger woman, cut him loose. There will come a time when he's old enough that no younger woman is going to want him. By then, you will have found a new relationship with someone who appreciates you and he'll be alone.

Serves him right.

My Reads: My Body - His by Blakely Bennett

I read a lot of erotic romance and erotica because that's what I write, but I'm always looking for a twist on the genre. I don't know why, but I'd never read Blakely Bennett's trilogy, and I even had the first one. I was expecting your standard, run-of-the-mill erotic romance with BDSM thrown in.

Wrong. I was wrong. I was never so wrong in my life.

My Body - His was unlike anything else that I've read. I owe you an explanation, and the queen of "no spoiler land" is going to have a hard time with this, but here goes.


First off, let me just give you this disclaimer: There are lots of erotic romances out there that carry the admonishment of "for readers 18 or over only." Mine are some of those. But these? I can't imagine what would happen if a 15-year-old got hold of one of these. Not good - not at all. They'd be permanently sexually warped. Take that from someone who read The Happy Hooker and Deep Throat at thee tender age of 14. No wonder I'm the kinky bitch I am.

What happens when a curious thirty-something woman goes to a party with a friend and finds out it's a free-for-all in terms of an orgy? Plenty. She wanders, dumbstruck, until she happens across "the artist." Jane is terrified by him - and intensely aroused. He gives her an immediate taste of what he expects, and that would be a warning for most people. But Jane is so turned on by Luke's control and sexual prowess that she lets herself fall into his trap. Thus begins their relationship, and what a convoluted, fucked-up mess it is. Instead of heeding warning signs that anyone else would've seen as big, bright, and flashing, Jane is mesmerized by Luke and believes she cannot live without him. He professes his love in similar fashion, but frankly, his actions don't match his words. Any more than that and you'll know more than you should but, trust me, you want to know.

I really didn't know what to expect, and this certainly wasn't it. While stories of BDSM relationships run rampant, and most of them are the loving, sweet, vanilla-scented things we love to read about, this one is anything but. It's raw, powerful, gritty, and a little frightening. It's a perfect example of what happens when someone who's lacking something important in their life meets up with a person who wants something they can't get without manipulating others, and someone winds up getting hurt. This book doesn't have a happily ever after; that comes in the third book, so keep reading. But it will twist your gut and heart until you don't think you can stand another minute, and suck you in so hard you won't be able to force yourself away. I started the first book, and I'll tell you a little secret: It was on Friday, and by Sunday afternoon, I'd bought the other two and devoured them.

Blakely is a talented writer, and her style is easy to read and comfortable, but the subject matter most definitely is not. If you've ever wanted to see the dark, scary, dangerous side of BDSM, take a trip into My Body - His. But be prepared. You'll never see the lifestyle the same way again.

I don't do reviews, and this isn't a review, but if it were, it would get 5+ stars.

South Carolina - don't go there if you're different

This information was brought to me by, once again, my baby, who said something to the effect of, "You're not gonna believe this shit." Yes, dear, I do. Not a big surprise. I'd love to be able to show you the pic that accompanies the article, but it's an Reuters photo, so I don't dare. Instead, I'll give you a pic of Chaz Bono - not the same, but you get the picture (no pun intended). I can, however, give you the link and let you look for yourself.


South Carolina boy sues over makeup removal for driver's license photo

It seems this young man went to the local office of the Department of Motor Vehicles in Charleston, South Carolina, to get his first driver's license. That, of course, requires a photograph. And that's where the trouble started.

You see, Chase Culpepper is a transgendered individual. He regularly wears women's clothing and makeup, and if you'll take a look at the link above, you'll see why. If I hadn't known what the article was about and you'd shown me the photo, I would've said, "Oh, what a lovely young woman!" He says he identifies as a gender-nonconformist. So I guess you're wondering what all the fuss is about.

Let me ask you this: Ladies, if you went to the DMV to have your driver's license photo taken and they told you to take off your makeup because you were attempting to alter your appearance so as to make your identity more difficult to ascertain, what would you say? I don't know what you'd say, but I sure as hell know what I'd say, and it wouldn't be pretty. And I'm fairly certain I'd leave without a license, and most likely in handcuffs. Do they ask women to take theirs off? I'm guessing they don't or we'd already know about it. I don't know about anyone else, but if my makeup didn't alter my appearance, I'd throw it away and go get something else that worked better.

What happened next was predictable. In June, the Transgender Legal Defense and Education Fund sent a letter asking that Chase be allowed to do a retake in his makeup. Three months later, after getting no reply from the state, the organization filed suit. Thank goodness.

Something similar happened to my son years ago during his college days when he worked for Walmart. He had an earring. We're not talking a gauge here, or a hoop, or any of that stuff. We're talking about a simple stud. Management came around and told all of the guys that they had to take them out. And of course, being MY son, he asked a pointed question: What about the women? Shouldn't they have to take theirs out too? He was answered with a "well, that's different" kind of off-hand brush-off. His next question: How? How was it different? How does whether or not you have a penis or vagina determine what kind of jewelry you can wear, or where on your body, for that matter? Doesn't that qualify as sexual discrimination? (That's my boy. I was so proud.)

The issue was dropped. He got to keep the earring. But I'm disturbed that, based on this article, I'm assuming the state of South Carolina had encouraged discussions regarding this situation and those like it in advance so that employees were fully prepared to discriminate as soon as Chase walked through the door. And that bothers me. I'm a little shocked that they didn't make him go to a restroom with an employee and drop his pants so they could confirm that he should remove his makeup. We're not talking about clown makeup here. We're not discussing a mask so no one knew who he was. We're talking about the same makeup women all over America wear on a daily basis. I'm guessing if the kids at his school were shown a pic of him in the makeup, they'd know full well who he was because he wears it every damn day.

The biggest difference in these two situations is that one is a private employer and the other is a governmental agency. Big difference - huge, huge difference. While Walmart could have enforced the rule, let someone sue them, and had the court system hash it out, this is a governmental agency with an obligation to serve the taxpayers. There is little recourse without going to a state supreme court, because that's where it will go, and maybe to the U.S. Supreme Court. And I hope it does. If this isn't settled, here's what you can expect.

Do you have a penis? You can't wear makeup.
Do you have a penis? You can't wear a dress.
Do you have a vagina? You can't wear pants.
Do you have a vagina? You can't hold that job.
Do you have a penis? You can't wear that jewelry.
Do you have a vagina? You can't go to that club.
Do you have a vagina? You can't wear your hair that short.
Do you have a penis? You can't wear your hair that long.

Do you see where this is going? Do you see the precedent this would set? It would essentially open the door to everything we've fought against for years. It would set us back at least fifty years, maybe more. I won't even get into the racial inplications - horrendous.

Before you start spouting bible verses at me and telling me how perverse Chase is, let me remind you, the first time you go to a governmental body and they won't serve you because you don't look exactly as they'd like, hair color, cut, clothes, shoes, jewelry, etc., how will you feel? Don't come back here crying like a little bitch to me. I'll have no sympathy for your bigoted ass - none.

I think the most disturbing part of this, to me anyway, is that this rule was made in 2009, well after LGBTQ issues had come to the forefront and we were doing battle with those who require conformity in all things. Life isn't black and white, folks. If you want the leniency to be who you are, you have to let others be who they are too. It's a two-way street.

So remember: Don't color your hair. Leave your Revlon at home. Watch what you wear. Otherwise, in South Carolina, you may not be able to drive.

I have the solution: Let's all go apply for our driver's licenses naked. No hiding our identities that way, huh? Wonder what they'd say to that?

My Reads: One to Keep by Tia Louise

You just never know what I'm going to feature next, do you? I like to keep you guessing. This time I'm featuring a book from a series that I've grown to love. I featured the first book from this series back in July. This is the second, but definitely not the last. This week's read is Tia Louise's One to Keep.



The first book in this series and the namesake of the series, One to Hold, was told in Melissa's voice, and through it we learned how Melissa and Derek came to be together. One to Keep isn't a continuation - it's Patrick Knight's story, in his voice, as it runs somewhat concurrent to Melissa and Derek's story. Starting slightly before theirs, it continues on through theirs and quite a few twists and turns, including a plotline that, quite frankly, I don't think I've ever seen before. I was impressed with that. We see a whole bevy of interesting characters, including Kenny (not a guy), Star (use your imagination), and Elaine, Melissa's friend. You know I don't do spoilers, and I'm not going to make an exception.

Let me just say that Patrick is the quintessential player. Former National Guard, Patrick had come to Alexander-Knight, LLC, as his brother, Stuart, a retired Marine, had taken a job in Saudi Arabia and Stuart's partner, Derek Alexander, needed a new partner. From day one, Patrick's main focus is somewhere between the neck and knees of every attractive woman he comes across. He gets an immediate admonishment from Derek regarding their policy of keeping clients off-limits when it came to seduction. Patrick seemed to believe, however, that the admonishment wasn't extended to coworkers, and he makes a major misstep in that regard. While I followed the twists and turns of the plot in this book, I had to grin.

Because of Patrick. I wanted desperately to hate him, but I just couldn't. Along with his super-ego and cocky attitude, there was something charming, disarming, and childlike about Patrick that I just couldn't resist. There were more than a few times that I wanted to absolutely throttle him, shake him, slap him, or ask him what in the hell he was thinking or, even more telling, what he was thinking with (and I was pretty sure I knew the answer to that question). He's Tia's version of my Steve McCoy, that guy who's far more multi-layered than he first appears, and far more loving and tender than I thought possible.

I loved this book as much as the first one. Yes, I want to know more about Derek and Melissa, but I more than enjoyed watching Patrick and Elaine's relationship bobble around in the ebb and flow of Patrick's crazy, sometimes irresponsible, always touching self-awareness. Even though I didn't want to, I found myself cheering for him to get where he needed to be and be where he wanted to go. It was a crazy ride, but one that I hope continues in later books in the series.

Don't miss these. They're too much fun.