tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25120791469882157682024-03-14T11:14:42.622-04:00Casey McKayHi I'm Casey McKay. I enjoy fighting the boredom of my soul crushing day job by being a spanking fiction writer by night. Writing books I would like to read—not surprisingly they all become romance novels, with lots of spanking. I like a good romance, with a little bit of comedy, a happy ending, and of course some spanking.
Blogging about my life and sex has become one of her favorite hobbies. Don't expect all of my posts to be romantic and sweet. Real life is weird and sex can be funny.
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.comBlogger434125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-85788064652481775622018-09-29T15:17:00.003-04:002018-09-29T15:17:56.576-04:00The Secret to Marital Bliss<div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The other night Mr. McKay was making dinner and it needed some time to cook. I was starving so I made us salads and then sat down to watch Jeopardy. I love Jeopardy. Mostly I like yelling random locations at the television during geography categories (that are seldom correct) and sweeping pop culture categories like it's my damn job. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The show just started and I'm shoving fork fulls of lettuce into my mouth like a starved animal when the news breaks in with a special weather report. Apparently, there was a tornado warning in the next county over. Ok, good to know. It didn't affect us, but I understand the necessity.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Then they start going on and on. And there's a radar map. And there are 2 weather people now discussing it. And they zoom in on the map. Also, do you know what kind of weather conditions create a tornado? I do now.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Slightly annoyed and keeping an eye on the clock, I'm completely cognizant of how much of Jeopardy this is taking up and I say to Mr. McKay, "Really? By the time they finish their very detailed report the tornado will have hit and be done with."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We're normally on the same page so I anticipate his agreement. Instead, he kind of makes a face and says, "They're warning people. It's important."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Now I'm annoyed at him for not validating my annoyance and I'm like, "But this seems like an extra long report. They're not usually this long. Why do we need radar of the storm and an education about how tornados form?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">He very calmly says, "Because it's news." And rolls his eyes. Then adds, "You're very serious about Jeopardy tonight."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">He switched the station to another feed which didn't have a tornado warning and I watched the rest of Jeopardy and finished my salad. I felt less annoyed the closer I got to the bottom of the bowl.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We're married 9 years this week and I'm wondering if half the secret to marital bliss is navigating your wife's emotions when she's hangry. Maybe it's just the secret to being married to me... keep me fed and I'm much less feral!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">(Also, there were no reports of tornadoes. So at least I don't look like a callous asshole. On the bright side, if Jeopardy ever has a category on tornados I'm going to outscore those smarty pants on the show.)</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-74358552360135696072018-05-06T11:43:00.000-04:002018-05-06T11:43:58.607-04:00Life is About Balance~ And a Good Bra #upbra <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Hello, friends! I feel like I fell off the world for a while. But I'm here, I swear! I was feeling a little burnt out and trying to figure out ways to make me feel like myself again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I've always been a big believer in having some kind of balance. Work hard, play hard. But recently I started taking a yoga class, which has a lot to do with balance figuratively and literally (Oh, hi, tree pose, I see you and you don't scare me...much). I love going to my class on Saturday mornings, I get a little meditative, practice some breathing, and stretch myself into positions I didn't think I'd be able to stretch into.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mr. McKay and I have also been eating healthier. More salads, more veggies all around, less carbs, and I've been drinking more water. You would think between the healthier diet, yoga, and roller derby that I'd be wasting away to nothing. But, like I said, I'm a big believer in balance. So, maybe I get home from yoga class and then head out to a brewery with my husband where I drink beers and then polish off a cheesesteak. A girl's gotta live.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I honestly have a constant war in my mind between "You only live once" (YOLO, do the kids still say that?) and "You only get one body." I mean, seriously, I don't want to have a heart attack at forty but I also don't want to feel like I'm depriving myself because I've sworn off cookies. I'm not even a big sweets eater, but who can pass up a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The result is, my waistline is not shrinking, but I can do a forward bend and put my hands flat on the floor, which is pretty cool. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My flexibility aside (which is still amateur at best) I had the honor of celebrating the marriage of two good friends a few weeks ago. I love weddings. They always make me cry. And when you get to witness two people vowing their love for each other, how can you be anything but emotional?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Weddings also mean dressing up. I don't have many occasions to wear dresses and my closet shows it. (Also, please see above about the not so trim waistline.) I went shopping. The day before the wedding. Because who doesn't love a deadline?? The fitting room was hot and stuffy, those lights do not do anyone any favors, and a mother and daughter were fighting in a room adjacent to mine. It was a miniature version of hell inside of a mall department store fitting room. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I settled. I purchased the first dress that didn't squeeze too tight on my hips and I could zip while still taking a breath. I didn't think it was the best dress I'd ever seen. I didn't even really like it. But every other option either looked like I rolled in sequins and spandex and was about to get on the pole or like I was ready to conduct a meeting about budget cuts. I did remind myself that I wasn't wearing the best bra. It was a glorified sports bra so it was kind of smooshing my boobs down in a weird and unflattering way. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I made my purchase with the enthusiasm of someone getting a cavity filled and decided to figure the rest out in the morning—the day of the wedding, because why would I give myself time to figure out another option?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The next morning I went to yoga (because I heard there was going to be really good food at the reception and, ahem, balance), then painted my nails, and trudged upstairs to deal with the situation. I pulled open my dresser drawer in search of a miracle. Control top pantyhose? Why do I even own those anymore? I've sworn them off. I had one very unfortunate incident, at a wedding no less, where I ended up trying to peel off my pantyhose in a tiny bathroom stall just so I could breathe after dinner. No one needs that in their life. I actually don't even wear pantyhose at all anymore and my life has only been better for it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Bypassing the hose, my hand fell upon a bra that was sent to me. It's called the <a href="https://www.upbra.com/" target="_blank">Upbra</a>. I didn't really know what to think when I first received it, it came with an instruction manual. It definitely seemed more high tech and complicated than any bra I would ever explore.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I can happily report that it isn't that complicated. It works just like the regular bras I've been wearing since puberty. The only difference is that it has some hooks at the cleavage so you can enhance and lift even more (or less) if you so choose. I was so eager to try it out when I first received it that I threw it on before heading out to run some errands with Mr. McKay. I didn't bother changing my clothes, I was wearing jeans and a hoodie. Once we got out in public I looked down and realized that my bust looked noticeably enhanced, at least to me. I've been a C-cup since I can remember so I have never bought a push-up bra. But this isn't really a push-up bra. It actually gives a lot of support. And yes, it does enhance what you already have, but on the lowest setting it really just gives a little bit of a helpful lift.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I wore it around for a bit, testing it for comfort. I was pretty convinced the straps would start digging into me and it would be one of those bras that you could only wear for an hour or two tops. My pre-judgment turned out to be wrong. I wore it for the better part of a day and didn't have an issue with the straps or the band digging into me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Upbra sent me their <a href="https://www.upbra.com/strapless.htm" target="_blank">strapless version</a> as well as the regular <a href="https://www.upbra.com/sec_shop.htm#convertible" target="_blank">convertible bra</a> (has straps but they can be moved or switched around). Up until the point of the wedding I had only worn the regular bra with straps. Now, I stood before my open dresser drawer and it was like a light from above was shining down on the strapless bra. I was going for broke. I was going to wear this strapless bra that I hadn't even tested out yet and I was hoping for the best. Maybe it would be the bra my last resort dress needed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I don't know if anyone else has had the same checkered past with strapless bras as I have, but I've always ended up with something that was too uncomfortably tight. That stayed where it was supposed to for about fifteen minutes and then as the night progressed would inch lower and lower until I was wearing a cumberbund with cups underneath my dress. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I wish I could have sent strapless bras to the same land that I banished control top pantyhose to, but I'm not stupid enough to think I can go braless. And a lot of dresses don't let you wear a bra with straps.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So here I was, all my eggs in one basket. It was do or die (okay, it wasn't that dramatic, but I really was out of options and we were leaving in like thirty minutes). I took the strapless Upbra out, unwrapped the fancy tissue paper it was still wrapped in and maybe I crossed my fingers while I snapped on the right hooks and got myself situated.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Do you know what? It was just as comfortable as the one with straps. It didn't dig in and it somehow defied gravity and stayed up. All night. Through the whole wedding, reception, and after party. I feel like I could conquer the world in a good bra and this is it. Do you know what the best part is? When your boobs look amazing no one is looking at your stomach.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Life is about balance. Wear a good bra, eat the cookie. (And ditch the control top.)</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-20909771873946023722017-10-22T14:55:00.000-04:002017-10-22T14:55:58.218-04:00The Satisfyer- Toys in Review<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I know I have a weird life. I like it that way and really, what is normal? But my life seems especially weird, surreal even, when people get in touch with me because of this blog. I like this blog, I've not been so active on here as of late, but this blog is my heart. And I get emails every so often from friends and readers. Once in a while sex toy companies want to know if I want free stuff! (Once in a while= twice—but whatever, who's keeping score?)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My first thought when someone sends me an email offering me free stuff is that it's a scam. I mean, really, who expects to be given anything for free? But after a little research and some deciphering I decided that the people at <a href="http://www.satisfyer.com/" target="_blank">Satisfyer</a> were not out to steal my identity (I mean, Casey McKay is a pen name, so really, you chose poorly to begin with). Anyway, they legitimately just wanted to send me three of their products so that I could review them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It's not a bad gig. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Except when they didn't leave the package at my door because it needed a signature and I was afraid I was going to have to go down to the pick up place and have to convince them that I was indeed Casey McKay. I was home when they came the second time so all was okay.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">They sent me three versions of their Satisfyer: the <a href="http://www.satisfyer.com/satisfyer-pro/#satisfyer-pro-2" target="_blank">Satisfyer Pro</a>, the <a href="http://www.satisfyer.com/satisfyer/#satisfyer-2" target="_blank">Satisfyer 2</a>, and the <a href="http://www.satisfyer.com/satisfyer-pro/#satisfyer-pro-penguin" target="_blank">Satisfyer Penguin</a>. To be honest I've never seen a sex toy like this before. Anything I have ever tried was a vibrator or a bullet or some combination of both. If I'm being completely frank (and when am I not) any toy that requires vaginal penetration isn't really my bag. I get that a lot of women like that, but that isn't what gets me going and even the vibrators I have I don't use that way. I usually just end up using it like you would a bullet and give my clit all the attention. To say I was intrigued with these toys that focused all of their attention on this area would be an understatement.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">At first glance, they made me a little nervous. I thought there might be some sort of suction or something, but no need to be alarmed, they aren't built to do anything like that. I unpacked them from their boxes and got them charging. The Satisfyer 2 takes two triple A batteries, but the Pro and the Penguin are rechargeable. I like that capability. It sucks to have to rob the TV remote of its batteries when the ones in my vibrator die. It's very handy that these come with their own usb chargers, I can swap out my phone and charge up the toy. Already winning me over with convenience.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charging up life's essentials</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Next up, actually giving them a whirl. I felt a little out of my element. How do I go about this? Do I need to line this thing up exactly with my clit? Should I be using a mirror? The pressure! Clearly, I was overthinking things. I pushed the little button and then placed the Penguin version (the smallest and least assuming) in the general area. Nothing was happening. I didn't know what I was doing wrong. I moved it a few times and thought maybe it was me. But then—oh! Wait, don't move. Right there. Oh, shit. Yeah, that's the spot.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The website describes it as contact-free pleasure, but I don't really think that's the way to describe it. Female toys are either built to penetrate (like real life) or you have some rounded, vibrating thing. The Satisfyer sort of envelopes you. The best comparison I can make is someone going down on you. The reason why I don't think it's contact-free is because your clit is resting inside. It's definitely touching, it feels like every nerve is being pulsed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I tried all three of them but didn't notice any discernable difference besides maybe size/portability. All of them are waterproof and one seemed just as powerful as the next. I used them alone first and then we tried one out together. Sometimes you aren't that adventurous when you're using it yourself and you almost lull yourself to sleep. And then sometimes your partner takes it from zero to sixty in two seconds and you almost launch yourself off the bed. Okay, zero to 11, because they have 11 settings. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The bottom line is, I really like this toy and they have moved into my regular rotation. I like that someone finally figured out a way to treat a clitoris. If you're looking for something a little different, you won't be disappointed!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-52848670087456038172017-07-27T15:18:00.000-04:002017-07-27T15:25:30.248-04:00Road Trips and Authors in Real Life<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">When your best friend asks you to take a road trip with her, you say yes. When she tells you it will be a six hour drive... you should fact check her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://bit.ly/29q3s4b" target="_blank">Natasha Knight</a> emailed me excitedly a few months ago and asked if I wanted to drive down to North Carolina with her for <a href="https://darkandseductive.com/" target="_blank">A Dark and Seductive Affair</a> book event. She got herself a table and she was flying in from Amsterdam. Obviously, she was traveling way farther already than I was, so a short road trip down the east coast through half a dozen states should be nothing!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Her original email said it would be a six hour drive. I was picking her up in Philadelphia and then we would head south. She told me she Google mapped it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Me: It's six hours from Philly to Charlotte?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mr. McKay: More like ten hours.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I rolled my eyes and looked it up myself. So, it would take somewhere between nine and ten hours, my answer didn't change. Actually, ten hours of non-stop talking sounded like a dream. With time zones and families and work our text conversations are usually snippets of crazy random things.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We set out Friday morning and we talked. Straight through. Talked on top of each other, switched topics, changed back. And laughed. I didn't know I could laugh so much in ten hours. We got in later than we intended and we ate a bag of tortilla chips and a jar of salsa for dinner. It was already shaping up to be a great weekend!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We were still chatting three hours later as we were falling into bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Me: You should run for president. I would vote for you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Natasha: I can't be president. I wasn't born here. You be president.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Me: Okay! Be my vice president?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Natasha *giving me a look*: I can't because if you die I would be president. And I can't.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Me: Oh. Want to be my first lady?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Natasha: I will totally be your first lady!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And that is how we made plans to move into the White House together. And also bring our husbands. I'm not really sure how the logistics work, but it's a good plan. At least it was at the moment. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The next day was the book signing. I won't lie, I was really nervous to meet the other authors. I've talked to most of them on Facebook and I've read a lot of their books. But part of me was worried that maybe it was all an act. That they wouldn't be nice people and I'd wish I hadn't gone. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I couldn't be more happy about how wrong I was. The first person we bumped into was Sue Lyndon. She seems nice online, right? She's even nicer and sweeter in person. She is also on her book signing event game and she helped us two noobs set up the table and organize things. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The day was pretty much a whirlwind of meeting authors, hugging, laughing, picture taking: I was exhausted by lunch time. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I think the highlight was watching people fangirl over Natasha. She is my best friend and I am proud of her and the amazing books she writes. I know she was caught off guard by the gushing but I'm glad I got to sit next to her and say, "Right? I know, she's awesome!" And I was reveling in her embarrassment—because I am that kind of friend.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After the signing, we were toting boxes back to the car in the parking garage and I stopped to pick up my sweater—while struggling with boxes—I tucked the front of my skirt behind the boxes and flashed the parking garage my panties. She stopped to take a picture so she could send it to my husband. She is that kind of friend. (And my husband wasn't even surprised to receive such a picture.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That night was the masquerade ball. It was all fancy dresses and masks and drinks and twerking. Okay, Renee Rose was ruling the dance floor, I was sweatily gyrating and twerking on people because that's all I know.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I was excited we had some more time to talk to everyone and I think I only marginally came off like a crazy person. Somehow, Natasha convinced Livia Grant and Adaline Raine to venture upstairs with us to crash a wedding. To be fair, I think they may have felt it was their responsibility to come and supervise and ensure we didn't get arrested. We dragged Adaline onto an escalator and it was only after we were a few steps up that she went, "Oh, I really don't like escalators."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Natasha: You're okay. *Pulling Adaline in front of her* Casey's in front of you and I'm behind you. We got you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Me: We'll flank you! *I crouch down low as the escalator travels up* Don't worry, I have roller derby skills!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I'm still not sure what I meant by that but it made her laugh and we got her off the escalator in one piece. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Somehow we ended up not being hungover on Sunday. Because we're adults and we know when to say when. Just kidding, it's because we drank gatorade and had good hotel room snacks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We convened for breakfast before we trekked off on another million hour journey home. Let me tell you something, if you are going somewhere, you should invite Livia Grant. She organized everyone to meet up for breakfast and I'm pretty sure that was like herding cats. It was no small feat. She's a boss.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I know I didn't mention every single person I met this weekend, but I am overwhelmed with how nice and how real all of these women were. It really does make me feel like I am part of a community and I am proud to know them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Meeting and hugging <a href="https://katherinedeane.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Katherine Deane</a> and <a href="http://reneeroseromance.com/" target="_blank">Renee Rose</a> in real life was surreal because I've been friends with them for so long it was weird we just really met. <a href="http://leesavino.com/" target="_blank">Lee Savino</a> and her sweet little flirty baby, <a href="https://www.suelyndon.com/" target="_blank">Sue Lyndon</a>, <a href="http://www.adalineraine.com/" target="_blank">Adaline Raine</a>, <a href="https://allysahart.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Alyssa Hart</a>, <a href="http://www.authorbellabryce.com/" target="_blank">Bella Bryce</a>, <a href="https://jenniferbene.com/" target="_blank">Jennifer Bene</a>, <a href="https://meashawrites.com/" target="_blank">Measha Stone</a>, <a href="http://www.liviagrant.com/" target="_blank">Livia Grant</a>, <a href="http://www.zblakebooks.com/" target="_blank">Zoe Blake</a>, <a href="https://addisonlcain.com/" target="_blank">Addison Cain</a>, <a href="http://www.altahensley.com/" target="_blank">Alta Hensley</a>, and all of their husbands, plus ones, friends, and helpers. Not to mention the readers and event organizers. It's Thursday and I think I might almost be caught up on sleep. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I definitely had A Dark and Seductive Affair sleep hangover and I'm not even mad about it. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-1203972004295113142017-06-17T10:24:00.000-04:002017-06-17T10:24:25.005-04:00Living in the Future<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I forgot how to use a bank teller. I mean, I understand how to use a bank and to bank with an actual human, but I haven't in maybe five or six years. I use the ATM and I do everything else online. But I had all these singles and a roll of quarters from a yard sale we had and I was actually sitting on the couch wondering how I was going to deposit the cash.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I had to refresh my memory about how to use the bank. I filled out a deposit slip and everything and I still had a mini panic attack while I was there that I had done something wrong and the woman was going to tell me I couldn't deposit my money (I don't know in what parallel universe I just thought the bank would refuse my money, but it was a niggling thought).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It made me start to take into account the way life is today. We have a lot of technology at our disposal. We communicate and build friendships over social media and the internet. But in the process have we forgotten how to do everyday things?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mr. McKay and I went out for a bite to eat recently. We sat at the bar because the restaurant was crowded and we were starving. A woman across the bar looked vaguely familiar to me, while I was trying to place her and act like I wasn't staring, she waved and smiled at me. I froze for a few seconds like I didn't know how to act like a human. If someone says hi to you, you should say hi back. Even if you aren't sure where you know them from or what they want from you. After a few awkward moments, it clicked that we had gone to high school together, but the embarrassing part was I'm friends with her on Facebook and had chatted with her recently. Yes, it is understandable that I didn't recognize her right away, but I could have been a little less weird about thinking that I knew her. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I prefer to buy things online. I hate traffic. I hate going to the store. I hate shopping. At the food store I'll opt for the self-checkout. I have no patience for the person in front of me who decided to use the self-checkout but then needs to call someone over to help because they don't know how to ring up their own produce. This is not making my shopping experience quicker!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But when did I become such a jerk? When did the world turn into a bunch of jerks who don't have enough time for human interaction? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I work in retail during the hours of my boring day job. 80% of the people I encounter don't speak to me in complete sentences. They don't make eye contact. They huff and sigh when the credit card machine doesn't work quick enough or my register runs out of receipt tape. Most of the time they don't end their phone call while they try to speak to me and the person on the phone simultaneously. It's annoying and frustrating.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My favorite time of day to work is early in the morning. On a week day before 10am, when the senior citizens come out. They ask me for help in finding things. They take five times as long at the register because they write out a check (who uses checks anymore?). They make eye contact when they speak to me and seem genuinely surprised when I strike up a conversation with them. They apologize for being slow and thank me for my patience. When did the world turn into a place where you have to thank people for not rushing you? I tell them I don't mind because I get paid by the hour (old men think that joke is hilarious). They tell me to have a good day and I actually believe that they mean it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It reminds me that it's okay to talk to the person in front of me at the self-check out. I know where the button is for cubanelle peppers so why wouldn't I share that information? And it's okay to ask the bank teller if I filled my deposit slip out correctly, even if I am a little embarrassed that I'm in my 30's and seem to have forgotten this life skill. It's okay because she's a human and I smiled and said thank you. And I told her I liked her earrings because they were cute. My laptop never wears cute earrings. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I might forget once in a while, but in between rushing from point A to point B, I'm going to try to remember how to be a human. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-85994196632882294512017-04-18T12:30:00.000-04:002017-04-18T12:30:00.423-04:00A Teasing Trio~ Untamed Hearts<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I had a crazy jam-packed weekend! It was all fun though. But I've just come up for air to share a little snippet from my just released menage romance. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Untamed-Hearts-Casey-McKay-ebook/dp/B071QYN7R2" target="_blank">Untamed Hearts</a> is now available on Kindle Unlimited!!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This scene picks up where the last one left off. Our two men are teasing poor Kate who still doesn't completely realize what she's signed up for.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>"How do you feel about nipple play? That might not be the most relaxing thought to contemplate, but I always feel like the after effects are relaxing."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>She watched as he dangled the chain in front of her. She knew what nipple clamps were, she didn't live under a rock. Had she ever had them attached to her nipples? That was a different subject entirely. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>"Your silence speaks volumes," Aaron said to her. "I forgot how exciting it could be with a newbie." He directed this statement at Ben, excitement in his tone.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Kate moved to cover her breasts, which seemed very unprotected with just her bra covering them. She ended up laying flat on her back as she had to move her arms which had been propping her up. Before she could cover herself Aaron grabbed her wrists and stretched her arms up over her head. Her nipples hardened and she cursed her traitorous body. She wasn't sure she wanted to make this easier for them. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>"Don't tie her up. Not this time."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>She looked over at Ben, what did he mean? Would they tie her up some other time?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>"I don't think I'll need to. You'll keep your hands where I put them, right babe?"</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>A million thoughts flooded her mind. Nipple clamps, tying her up, and when exactly did she become Aaron's babe? That term really rubbed her the wrong way—normally. But for some reason, coming out of his mouth, it made Kate feel warm inside.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Untamed-Hearts-Casey-McKay-ebook/dp/B071QYN7R2" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYb4wdu2NH1dnUQLBwPFIlWBX4HD3rDKC-qD3Wxu0dyU2I8J6wqScf0m_38SAfVsJS_JePLcFL4OMd5q6SLWvurYbyHz39dwrThaFGM4aSVwdMdkOpsJdeN-8aKccQ6wQ7Wg_vov1Zvw/s400/cm+UH.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Blurb:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Kate needs a change. Nothing is keeping her in New York anyway. She's getting kicked out of her apartment, she can't hold down a job, and her dating prospects seem to get worse by the day. When the chance of a lifetime presents itself, she doesn't want to say no. Despite her friend, Elle, warning her to reconsider—Kate leaps at the opportunity. A trip to Alaska? A chance at love? But there's a catch, she'll be working for a tabloid magazine who commissioned her to get a sultry story. Will she stoop low enough to use herself as bait?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Ben and Aaron are living a nearly ideal existence. They have a close-knit community that understands their lifestyle and a good life out in remote Alaska. The trouble is, it can be hard to find a woman with their shared interests. With their options being limited, Ben places an online ad looking for a woman. When Kate pops into their life they both know that nothing will ever be the same. She's smart, funny, and she is undeterred by their lifestyle, even though she is unaware before she agrees to fly out to meet them. But can they trust that her intentions are pure? Can the three of them find a way to follow their hearts? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-17990456462000416812017-04-14T08:57:00.000-04:002017-04-14T18:17:38.435-04:00The Difference in a Kiss~ Untamed Hearts<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Happy Friday, everyone! Untamed Hearts has been loaded up and now it is up to the Amazon gods as to when it will be up for sale. Keep your eyes peeled. **EDITED*** LINK AT THE BOTTOM!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I figured I would share another glimpse into Kate, Aaron, and Ben. Stay tuned for buy links hopefully later today!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Ben, who still held her hand, tugged her further into the room. Turning her toward him he looked down into her eyes. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>She opened her mouth to speak, but he covered her lips with his. It caught her off guard and she forgot to close her eyes. She blinked, frozen momentarily until she let herself relax and kiss him back. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>His lips were soft and he kissed her slowly. She closed her eyes and leaned into him. She didn't remember ever being kissed like that before. It was as if the rest of the world melted away and they were the only two that existed. Ben's hands wound into her hair and that was when she noticed other hands encircling her waist. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>The thought entered her mind that it should have felt odd. It should have been weird kissing Ben, feeling Aaron's hands around her. She could feel the heat of his body against her back. Standing there, sandwiched between the two men, receiving all of their undivided attention, it felt right.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Ben broke off their kiss, his hands holding either side of her face. "Just try to relax. We'll go slow, tell us if you're feeling uncomfortable or if you need to stop."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Kate's face must have shown her confusion because he gave her a reassuring smile.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>"It's all about communication. None of this can work if we aren't being honest with each other."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>His words didn't clarify anything for her, but she got distracted by Aaron's movements. He was by a chest of drawers opening and closing them, sorting through the contents and pulling things out. Ben turned, following her eyes. Releasing her, he crossed the room to meet Aaron. Something exchanged between the two. If they spoke it was too soft for her to hear, but suddenly they switched places.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>"Who's bedroom is this?" she asked, taking a step back from Aaron as he approached her and crossing her arms in front of her.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>He halted his steps and cocked his head to the side. "Am I making you nervous?"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>"No," she lied, dropping her arms and trying to look more relaxed. "I was just wondering who slept in here."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>"Right, we never did get to that tour, did we?" Aaron put his hands on his hips and turned in a half circle. "This is the playroom. Sorry, we didn't specify that before."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>"Oh." She didn't know what else to say. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>"I guess you'll be getting the grand tour of this room before you see the rest of the house." He stepped toward her again and this time she held her ground. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>She didn't want to keep shrinking away from him.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Reaching out, his hands rubbed her arms and he looked down at her. "We're both guessing you aren't very well-versed in this arena."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Did he mean sex? She didn't know why, but that offended her.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Aaron laughed. "Don't get your panties in a bunch, city girl. We're men of particular tastes, if you hadn't noticed. We'd just like to see if our tastes mesh. That's all."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>"What kind of tastes?"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>He pushed her backward until the backs of her legs hit the bed. "You'll see, darling."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>She sat and watched as Aaron dragged his shirt over his head. He stood before her, bare-chested, in only his jeans. Suddenly, she lost the ability to speak. Her heart beat faster as he closed in on her. She had a vision of diving off of a cliff. Because that was what this was. She was all in and she was going head first. She just hoped she survived the fall. That was the thing about cliff diving, it was best to know how deep the water was before jumping. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>The bed dipped as Aaron placed one knee beside her. He hovered over her, her face inches from his chest. As he leaned in, she fell back onto the bed. That seemed to be his plan as he cradled her head with one of his large hands and bent to kiss her. She didn't know if it was the angle or the man, but this was a much different kiss than Ben's.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Aaron had an urgency about him that was absent before. He didn't just press his lips to hers, waiting for her to respond as Ben did. He devoured her, pressing himself to her, he used his lips, his tongue, and his teeth nipped at her. She moaned and his hands started to roam. Bringing her hands up she braced herself against his muscled form. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>When he finally lifted his head, she found she was short of breath. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Aaron smiled down at her. "Breathe through your nose, babe."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Was he giving her kissing tips? Her face burned that he thought she was such an amateur. Before she could respond he tugged the bottom of her shirt up. She started to protest, but he already had it up and over her head. He helped her sit up and that's when she noticed Ben had rejoined them. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>He'd also lost his shirt, standing at the end of the bed with his light wash jeans hanging off his hips. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Aaron pulled her with him, getting her more centered on the bed. That's when she realized that Ben's hands weren't empty. She tried to get a better look, but couldn't see as she reclined back on the mattress. Kate was too self-conscious to sit straight up without a shirt on. Her stomach wasn't flat, and being between these two very fit men, she was only more hyper aware of that fact. If she kept herself elongated then she could appear thinner. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>"I don't know what this is from," Aaron commented, brushing his index finger over the crease between her eyebrows. "But stop thinking about whatever's twisting you up."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>She took a deep breath and tried to relax. Tried not to think about the fifteen extra pounds she never could seem to lose. Tried not to think about what the hell Ben had in his hands, or what the hell she was doing in this bedroom, in Alaska.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>"Hmm, I think we need to help her relax." Ben climbed onto the bed beside her.</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071QYN7R2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1492207760&sr=8-1&keywords=untamed+hearts%2C+casey+mckay" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYb4wdu2NH1dnUQLBwPFIlWBX4HD3rDKC-qD3Wxu0dyU2I8J6wqScf0m_38SAfVsJS_JePLcFL4OMd5q6SLWvurYbyHz39dwrThaFGM4aSVwdMdkOpsJdeN-8aKccQ6wQ7Wg_vov1Zvw/s400/cm+UH.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Blurb:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Kate needs a change. Nothing is keeping her in New York anyway. She's getting kicked out of her apartment, she can't hold down a job, and her dating prospects seem to get worse by the day. When the chance of a lifetime presents itself, she doesn't want to say no. Despite her friend, Elle, warning her to reconsider—Kate leaps at the opportunity. A trip to Alaska? A chance at love? But there's a catch, she'll be working for a tabloid magazine who commissioned her to get a sultry story. Will she stoop low enough to use herself as bait?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Ben and Aaron are living a nearly ideal existence. They have a close-knit community that understands their lifestyle and a good life out in remote Alaska. The trouble is, it can be hard to find a woman with their shared interests. With their options being limited, Ben places an online ad looking for a woman. When Kate pops into their life they both know that nothing will ever be the same. She's smart, funny, and she is undeterred by their lifestyle, even though she is unaware before she agrees to fly out to meet them. But can they trust that her intentions are pure? Can the three of them find a way to follow their hearts? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071QYN7R2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1492207760&sr=8-1&keywords=untamed+hearts%2C+casey+mckay" target="_blank">Buy Untamed Hearts on Amazon now!</a></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-88072112907645092582017-04-12T20:11:00.001-04:002017-04-12T20:16:46.063-04:00Out of Her Comfort Zone~ Untamed Hearts~ A NEW Menage!!<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Well, I did a thing and I wrote a book. And I finished it. And everything. It's been a while guys, thanks for hanging in there. If any of you are still out there reading my blog—I know I've been lax about that too. Thanks for bearing with me, I love all of you <3</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This idea sprouted from watching some show on HGTV of all things. If you don't know this about me, I love watching home makeover shows and also shows about people looking to buy a house and then making ridiculous comments about said house. "Oh, I don't like this paint color." "I HATE carpeting." As if they will never change anything inside once they buy it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Anyway, HGTV has regular shows called Beachfront Bargains and Lakehouse Living. They are essentially Househunters, but one takes place on a beach the other on a lake, you get the picture. I stumbled across this one in Alaska. It may have been one of the Lakehouse Living shows, or it could have been its own special Alaska thing, I honestly don't remember. But it kickstarted this crazy story in my brain. I am an east coast girl, I've lived my entire life within an hour driving distance to two metropolitan areas. The thought of completely removing myself from that and plunging into the Alaska Frontier got my creative juices flowing. And that is where this book came from.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Here, I will introduce you to Kate. She's from New York City, she's lived her whole life on the east coast and now she decides she needs a change. So, she responds to an online ad, and unknowingly gets herself involved in a triage relationship. Not only is she dealing with the culture shock of being in the remote wilderness, but she's also dealing with a relationship dynamic she was unprepared for. It was fun to write. And I hope, it will be fun to read.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I'll stop blabbing and let you read an excerpt. Hopefully you'll like what you see and stay tuned for more. Release date will be later this week!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> What was she doing? Kate meant it when she said she could never please both of them. Hell, she didn't think she ever managed to please anyone in her life. She'd been a major disappointment since the moment she was born. Of course, her mother never said that out loud, but she knew. She was the result of a one-night stand, her mother wasn't even certain who her father was. Kate had spent her life apologizing for being around. That was why when the opportunity arose for this chance, she grabbed it. Looking between Aaron and Ben, they looked like they wanted to eat her alive. A shiver ran down her spine as she realized she wouldn't mind that at all.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> "Who were these bozos you were dating in the city?" Aaron arched an eyebrow in disbelief.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> "Any guy who wasn't happy with you has to be crazy," Ben added.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Crazy for sure. She'd dated her fair share of crazy. And weird. </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Both men watched her with curious eyes and she realized they were waiting for her to speak. Kate shrugged in answer. "I have a talent for finding the wrong men. Everyone has their own agenda."</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> Aaron's eyes narrowed at her statement.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Did he have an agenda? Her chest constricted as she panicked again over her situation.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Ben reached out and grabbed her hand. "Hey, we're not expecting you to please us." He gave her a lopsided grin that did strange things to her insides. "We want to please you."</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">He cupped her chin, rubbing his thumb along her jawline with a tenderness she wasn't expecting.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> Aaron sat back, studying her, giving her some space. He looked as if he were deep in thought. "Give us one night. Tonight. Let us show you what it's all about."</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> "You mean..." her voice trailed off as she took her eyes from Aaron to Ben. "You want me to sleep with you? Both of you?"</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> "If you want—" Aaron began.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> "No." Ben shot Aaron a look. "We don't mean you need to have sex with us."</span></i></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> "You don't </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">have </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">to," Aaron added in an exasperated tone. "But, it's an option." He wiggled his eyebrows at her and the playful look was so unexpected it made her giggle. She didn't expect the smile he gave her either. This man was full of surprises.</span></span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> "So what then?"</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> "Let us have tonight. We'll show you what it's like to be with two men." Ben locked his eyes on hers as he explained. "You don't need to please us. We want to please you."</span></i></span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-c6326aad-64a0-f301-82bf-139fed1c7a13"><span style="font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> She had so many questions, like what was in it for them? Why would two guys possibly want to share one woman if they weren't getting anything out of it? Her hands grew clammy and she thought of every horrible scenario as Ben led her upstairs, Aaron close behind them.</span></i></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coming Soon!</td></tr>
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-c6326aad-64a4-bbbc-0590-bb555ed1559d"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Blurb: Kate needs a change. Nothing is keeping her in New York anyway. She's getting kicked out of her apartment, she can't hold down a job, and her dating prospects seem to get worse by the day. When the chance of a lifetime presents itself, she doesn't want to say no. Despite her friend, Elle, warning her to reconsider—Kate leaps at the opportunity. A trip to Alaska? A chance at love? But there's a catch, she'll be working for a tabloid magazine who commissioned her to get a sultry story. Will she stoop low enough to use herself as bait?</span></span></span></div>
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<br /><span style="font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ben and Aaron are living a nearly ideal existence. They have a close-knit community that understands their lifestyle and a good life out in remote Alaska. The trouble is, it can be hard to find a woman with their shared interests. With their options being limited, Ben places an online ad looking for a woman. When Kate pops into their life they both know that nothing will ever be the same. She's smart, funny, and she is undeterred by their lifestyle, even though she is unaware before she agrees to fly out to meet them. But can they trust that her intentions are pure? Can the three of them find a way to follow their hearts? </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Stay tuned for more excerpts until my release date!</i></span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></span>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-86028896971777669892017-04-11T12:41:00.000-04:002017-04-11T12:53:36.707-04:00Sometimes Muffins are Not the Answer (Sometimes)<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">We've been doing this thing around here lately in the McKay house. We're trying to eat low carb. I don't know how stuck to a "diet" we necessarily are but we stopped eating rolls, bagels, pasta and carb-laden things for dinner. In the past, we were going for quick and easy, it didn't take much thought. Our main dinner meal most nights was some kind of sandwich, on a roll, with chips as a side dish. Not really the food choices you should be making in your adult life. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, in a quest to make healthier choices and to stop eating like we're teenagers we made the slight adjustment to eat less carbs. The change hasn't been so drastic that we feel deprived. Meal prep has been discussed more often. And it really does help that Mr. McKay loves to cook, otherwise we'd be eating omelets every night if it were left up to me. (We are eating omelets for dinner like once a week because I do have sway on the menu.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">One of my favorite things to do on my day off is to bake or make breakfast. I'll make muffins or waffles. Occasionally, I'll whip up a cake or some brownies. We had bananas that were super ripe and needed to be used within the day, normally, I would make these <a href="http://allrecipes.com/recipe/17652/banana-crumb-muffins/" target="_blank">banana crumb muffins</a> that are to die for! I love them and will eat two at a time for breakfast because they are that good. But we're eating healthier now, muffins aren't really on the menu. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I looked up a healthier recipe and found this <a href="http://www.themerchantbaker.com/baked-banana-oatmeal-cups/" target="_blank">banana oatmeal cup thing</a>. It was really easy to do and we had all the ingredients. And it's healthier! (right?)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtQDo2eCwuYXMKo0Km_lnxJ2fjeBw_C4bs6tHdFwMF1RmU669zGaQHP3lIH3x4DT9oTVLiR7gr80iR7aIaznbUs8Iw_xQmRL0bM_3vv95aCMl7DNx8RYOcnXMrJVQAMPORgAX7GDsa4XU/s1600/oatmeal+cups.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtQDo2eCwuYXMKo0Km_lnxJ2fjeBw_C4bs6tHdFwMF1RmU669zGaQHP3lIH3x4DT9oTVLiR7gr80iR7aIaznbUs8Iw_xQmRL0bM_3vv95aCMl7DNx8RYOcnXMrJVQAMPORgAX7GDsa4XU/s320/oatmeal+cups.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">A conversation:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Me: I made banana oatmeal muffin cup things! Is oatmeal low carb?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mr. McKay: No, it's a carb.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Me: Oh, but it's like good, right?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mr. McKay: *shrugs*</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Me (after clicking around on the internet): Yes, it's a healthy carb because it's a whole grain!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">He was way less enthused about my health facts than I was.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-XJbCryCZbNE7KLyEzZ9AMstvspM2n55hlcOqN37S7PKobgHiztb2n4D29r8iATf9dSQ5zrbN79Jvzclnb2OhssYvdtfhLpqIgzwcZBgAVC6GBy1SzkkQXQnjTChhWoICbCaZRQgKe24/s1600/pin+up+apron+cooking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-XJbCryCZbNE7KLyEzZ9AMstvspM2n55hlcOqN37S7PKobgHiztb2n4D29r8iATf9dSQ5zrbN79Jvzclnb2OhssYvdtfhLpqIgzwcZBgAVC6GBy1SzkkQXQnjTChhWoICbCaZRQgKe24/s1600/pin+up+apron+cooking.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I don't think Mr. McKay was sold on my breakfast alternative either. I think he's still mourning the muffins. But I've been eating them every morning for breakfast (30 seconds in the microwave makes them warm and gooey). And I have noticed they keep me feeling less hungry throughout the morning, which is always a good thing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I'll still make us some banana crumb muffins but it's not going to be an every week kind of thing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Does anyone have any healthy eating tips or recipes? We've been eating more salads and trying to eat more vegetables and less bread. What do you guys do?</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-3446302215066669532017-04-01T12:05:00.000-04:002017-04-01T12:05:04.268-04:00The Price of a Good Time<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The good news is I still have a headache today.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Why is that good news? No reason really except that it makes my conscience feel a little better.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Let me take you back to the beginning. I know I haven't been blogging lately and I really do have this goal to put up a post a week. But finding the physical time to even have two thoughts coalesce into anything resembling a post has been tricky.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have a lot on my plate and recently added more things and jobs and titles and responsibilities. Because obviously, I'm a masochist. And a completely unrealistic optimist who thinks there are enough hours in the day to get everything done (there isn't).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And every once in a while I have an opportunity to go out and kick up my heels and give myself a night off. This miraculous event happened two nights ago. Roller derby practice got canceled and my teammates decided we were forgoing the physical exercise and we were going out for the night. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'll let you in on a secret: I like drinking. I'm a little worried that makes me sound like I have a problem so let me break it down. I like the social aspect of cooling my heels and having a couple of drinks. I like the slight buzz and the way my mind becomes singularly focused on being in the moment. I'm not thinking about bills and schedules and deadlines and to do lists. I'm thinking about the person standing in front of me that I'm conversing with. I'm thinking about the music playing. I'm thinking about all the love I have for all the people I'm sharing my night with.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's not so different from the adrenaline rush I get on game day. Or when I slip into the writing zone and pound out a bunch of words on a new story. Anything that can take me away from the day to day minutia where I'm teetering on the edge of panic of not getting everything done is pretty much the best.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Anyway, I was out the other night and I had a good buzz going. And I did not want the night to end, I did not want that feeling to end. So I ended up having one more drink than I meant to and by the time I had eaten and come home I had a slight headache. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Just a little niggling ache right in the front of my head, over my eyes. I drank some water and hoped sleep would knock it out. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It did not. I woke up with a pounding headache. My morning was wasted. I tried every headache remedy I could to get the monster under control, but mostly I laid on the couch and moped.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I worried about my lack of production. I had had my morning scheduled to the minute of what I needed to accomplish before I left for an afternoon shift at the day job. So while I closed my eyes against the daylight I weighed things out in my mind. Could I be hungover? It seemed weird that I would feel this bad from having three beers the night before. But maybe I hadn't had enough water. Now I was paying for it. I deserved no sympathy, I needed to suck it up and move on. What kind of grown up let's herself get hungover when she has a million things to do?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sure, the seasons are changing and I have been a little congested. It could be a sinus headache, but I didn't want to let myself off the hook with a flimsy excuse. I powered through my shift, came home with the same headache, and stumbled into bed feeling guilty as ever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I woke up this morning with the same headache. My nose is running and my throat kind of hurts. Hooray! I'm not an irresponsible jerk after all. I just have a sinus thing going on. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I let myself have a lazy morning and I'm heating up some soup. It shouldn't matter I guess, the source of my headache. But it does give me peace of mind that I didn't sabotage myself. And that I am allowed to go out and have a few beers and let myself shut off for a bit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">After all, I can't control the seasons. Or my stupid allergies.</span><br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-6844037696129043972017-01-31T13:34:00.001-05:002017-01-31T13:34:56.183-05:00When the Lights Go Out...<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I don't know about you, but sometimes I get so wrapped up in the "big picture" that little things can pass me by.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So much is going on in the world. So much that takes our attention and seems to need our immediate response. My mind is constantly preoccupied these days as I follow the news and try to figure out what I am doing that's making a difference. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But there's still day to day life. There still needs to be food in the fridge and some kind of dinner plan (does anyone else feel like 90% of their day is trying to figure out dinner?) and not forgetting to get gas before you go to work and shit did I forget to wash my work pants again?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Maybe you have it a little more together than me. I envy you if you do. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Last night, I settled into bed and found a show on Netflix to fall asleep by. I can't sleep in silence and the light from the TV helps Mr. McKay find his way to bed. About forty minutes after I had tucked myself in I sat up with a startled gasp. I blinked against the pitch black that had consumed me, trying to clear my eyes and squint to see. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I heard Mr. McKay coming up the stairs. I grabbed my cell phone, using the screen as a flashlight. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"The power's out," he said as he met me in the hallway.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I grabbed a flashlight from the closet. "That's weird."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It was weird. It wasn't windy or snowing, or doing anything outside that would make you think some power lines got knocked down. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We made our way to our bed and settled beneath the blankets without the glow of the TV between us. We talked for a few minutes. I was groggy from the short amount of sleep I'd already had. But then a thought occurred to me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Is everyone's power out?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Yeah... I think."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Did you pay the electric bill?" There was one thing I knew for certain, I had not paid it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The division of labor in our house is fairly even. Cooking, cleaning, food shopping—all that stuff doesn't fall on just one person and I am grateful for it. The same with the bills, but it becomes a little tricky when we have a conversation that: "the cable bill, car insurance, and electric bill need to be paid." Sometimes I think this conversation means he is handling it, sometimes he thinks my acknowledgment of this conversation means I am doing it. In the end, they all get paid.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Usually.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Yeah," he said in a way that did not invoke confidence. Then he lit the flashlight and walked to the window to peer through the blinds. "Everyone's out, streetlights too."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Okay, good."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He climbed back in beside me and I snuggled into him. "I knew I paid it," he whispered into the dark, almost as if he was assuring himself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I woke up a few hours later to blinking clocks and the low hum of electronics around us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We're trying to be good neighbors and good citizens. We often feel powerless in these uncertain times. I don't think we should lose sight of the big picture, of the world around us, of issues bigger than those in our everyday lives. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But we remembered to pay the electric bill. And I have milk in the fridge for my morning coffee. I just realized there is still a container of pineapple stuck in the back, way past its prime that's slowly decaying because we keep forgetting to toss it when we take the garbage out. We'll get to it eventually.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We keep ourselves informed and support the causes we care about. And we can still make each other laugh when we're plunged into darkness for some unexplained reason. That's the hope that I cling to.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"By night, Love, tie your heart to mine, and the two together in their sleep will defeat the darkness"—Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-17209801463943586582017-01-10T11:00:00.001-05:002017-01-10T11:00:41.698-05:00Becoming Un-stuck<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Hi everyone! We are 10 days into 2017 and the only conclusion I have come to is that I really, really hate cold weather.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Other than that, this year is treating me fine. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Last year was not my best year for writing. Believe it or not I set goals every week. I try to complete projects and get them out there to share with the world. Apparently, 2016 was not my year for that. I had the best intentions. But it was a weird year.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Anyway, having published one book in 2016 makes it kind of easy to at least double if not triple my output this year. I've been doing some reflection in trying to figure out what exactly stunted my creativity.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The conclusion I came to (without going into every minute factor that affected my daily life) is that I don't think my creativity was the problem. I think it came down to motivation, time, and the actual joy I was getting out of writing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Just recently I started revising the very first book I wrote and published, Catch a Falling Star. It's funny to read something that I wrote four years ago. It's weird to see how much my writing style has changed, while pretty much staying the same. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sure, I cringe at some of the things in there. The way I wrote things, the words I used. Apparently, I really, really loved commas (I don't think that's changed). But I'll tell you what's refreshing about looking back at this book, remembering how it just kind of burst out of me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Yeah, I didn't know what I was doing. But I wasn't writing it for anyone. I didn't even think anyone was going to read it. I didn't care. I was just writing. Creating my own world with my own characters, just for me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I don't write like that anymore and I am wondering if that is part of the problem. I'm too much in my own head "are people going to buy this?" "what will readers think if I write this?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When I wrote this first book I didn't think about any of that. I didn't care because it wasn't even a factor.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Somehow writing evolved from, "this thing I love and make time for" to "this thing I try to do." I don't know when it stopped feeling like an outlet and started feeling like work. I think I got into the mindset that if I kept pushing on it would feel right again. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And I don't even think I realized it happened until I started reading Catch a Falling Star and I found myself smiling. When was the last time that happened? When was the last time I sat down at my laptop and didn't worry about this scene developing the characters, or the dialogue moving the plot along? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When was the last time I was excited about writing?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Too long. I'll tell you that. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm thinking about not thinking about it too much.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm planning on having less of a plan. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm going to stop being in my head and let my heart have a bigger role.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Maybe it will be a disaster. Maybe I'll be sitting here on January 10th 2018 saying, "Guys, that was a really stupid thing I decided to do."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm okay with that. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">On that note, I do have a couple of projects in the pipeline. One book that I have been working on for months. I'm getting to the end of it and I think it might actually be pretty good. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A second book that came out of a dream I had one night. It's still in the thinking out process, but it's been rumbling around in my head for a month or two now. Sometimes I think I write the best when I let the idea ferment for a while. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's going to be different than the usual thing from me. We'll see how it turns out. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I won't know until I try.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8Z41N76OWm-DPLQKWrwwyk0AQFUa7UlEUPrphYZg2JVbRuXQIjvdwNiBi2xXujzA7BMO-ufHPyXDoBFeEo9xjLS4WjDse8-7rbPA85KczJtF-sqcwjDEE9_UOVQJwwoL9vgoUJiBQ0w/s1600/pinup+sweater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8Z41N76OWm-DPLQKWrwwyk0AQFUa7UlEUPrphYZg2JVbRuXQIjvdwNiBi2xXujzA7BMO-ufHPyXDoBFeEo9xjLS4WjDse8-7rbPA85KczJtF-sqcwjDEE9_UOVQJwwoL9vgoUJiBQ0w/s320/pinup+sweater.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-46993635785059923682017-01-02T14:01:00.000-05:002017-01-02T14:01:16.276-05:00New Year, New You? Probably Not.<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I will take this moment to wish all of you a Happy and Healthy New Year, because that is what you do at the beginning of the new year, right? But does that mean that I don't care if you're happy and healthy in July? I mean I guess the January wish is supposed to carry through all year long. I'm just saying, just because it's the dawn of the new year doesn't mean anything has changed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I want my friends and family to always be healthy and happy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm not a resolution person, mostly for this reason. The same reason why I don't believe in diets or any other kind of "Change your life overnight!" thing. It's crap. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It is a new year, yes, technically, it is a new beginning. But we're all the same people we were two days ago. Nothing is going to change just because we wish it will. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am an optimistic person by nature, I don't want anyone to think I'm being negative here. I guess I'm just being realistic. Yes, I also thought, "Goodbye 2016! You sucked. I'm not sad to see you go. 2017 will be so much better!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Then today, on January 2nd, I woke up with a crippling headache. I'm not surprised by this, I have been headache prone my entire life. Waking up with a headache is the worst. And mostly my first thought is always, "Shit, what did I drink last night??"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Truthfully, I did have a few beers yesterday and I had a headache all afternoon because once in a while a very hoppy beer will hit me the wrong way (yet, I still drink them, because who doesn't like a little Russian roulette to liven up their life?). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was headache free when I went to bed last night and then woke up with a beastly one. It's a sinus headache, it's pretty much under control now. There are still hoof beats in the background, but I'm not letting it ruin my day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My point is—is 2017 off to a kick ass start? No. I spent all day yesterday exhausted because I only slept 5 hours the night before. Today, I have an awful headache. Does that mean my entire year is shot?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Well, let's hope not. But I fear a lot of my friends would think exactly that. At least judging by their ever hopeful facebook posts. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's a new year and it's a clean slate, but I'm still the same person. I'm still going to get headaches and not make it to the gym as much as I should. I'm still going to procrastinate. I'm still going to drink hoppy beers and then curse myself for it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I'm also going to remember to enjoy the little things. I'm going to make time to see friends. I'm going to work out, not because I should but because I feel better when I do. I'm going to cook more with my husband because I love him and I love eating (best of both worlds). I'm going to continue setting goals for myself. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But when I don't meet them I'm not going to beat myself up. I'm going to try harder.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's not a new me, it's the same me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, my friends, I wish you more good days than bad days. I hope you laugh more than you cry. I hope you discover what makes you happy and you hold onto it. I hope you remember that one day does not define you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I hope in this new year that you are still the same you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A Happy and Healthy everything to everyone! </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfJFabC74HjfSPKJx6nNyrxID8Zade58FRT1fADW3XkoPSjjG5uTw-VJSj4rPHFEO1muQ3gLnIREzr7UcSOUxQ3NRw_DeEzRZu3xicdxQrPRH6vKa-v0BfOrAxNrBZwYJVa2a-7bZbX-Q/s1600/happy+new+year-mae+west.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfJFabC74HjfSPKJx6nNyrxID8Zade58FRT1fADW3XkoPSjjG5uTw-VJSj4rPHFEO1muQ3gLnIREzr7UcSOUxQ3NRw_DeEzRZu3xicdxQrPRH6vKa-v0BfOrAxNrBZwYJVa2a-7bZbX-Q/s320/happy+new+year-mae+west.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-16090900863744890802016-12-13T13:08:00.000-05:002016-12-13T13:08:01.855-05:00Something to Hang by the Fire<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's been a weird year. It feels like it's been an unbelievably long year and in many ways I don't feel like the same person that started it out.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A major change this year is that I finally upgraded to a smartphone. This sounds like a strange thing to single out in this year of emotions and events and lots of very not so good things. But I'm realizing more and more that it has changed my every day life. And it also scares me how much I have come to rely on it and how much it knows about me! Why does it know things about me?? It's scary.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Anyway, aside from never being lost ever again (for the directionally challenged, GPS on my phone is literally the best thing ever), I can now check my email 4,000 times a day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A fun fact: there is no reason why you should ever need to check your email this much. Another fact: I never get important emails. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have about four email addresses that I use frequently. The one linked up to my phone is my main, real name, the one I don't give out to email lists, way to get in touch with me. Currently, I am stuck in a group email with extended family about the best date to get together for Christmas at my grandmother's. I'm mostly staying out of it and pretending I haven't checked my email 4,000 and one times today. I'm going to see how it all shakes out and then plan my illness accordingly. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It wasn't until the smartphone and the easy accessibility to this email that I realized at one point in time I made an error in judgment and gave Frederick's of Hollywood my main email address. Not really a big deal. I could unsubscribe. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I haven't because I am completely enthralled by just how many emails they send in one day. And how many sales they have! So many sales!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I mean, I am a huge supporter of purchasing lingerie. My love of shopping kind of died when I became an adult and had actual bills to pay, I no longer get a thrill out of buying new clothes. Instead, occasionally, I am forced to buy new yoga pants because all of the ones I own have random holes in them and aren't even safe to wear when bringing out the trash. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But cute underwear? I'll buy that all day long. Especially on sale!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I get an average of three emails a day from Frederick's of Hollywood. I know, right? It should be annoying. I should be forced right into the unsubscribe territory. But instead, it kind of delights me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">All of them have such urgency. <span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>TIME IS RUNNING OUT</u></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><u><br /></u></b></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Oh, man. Time is running out, what am I missing?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><u>BIGGEST SALE OF THE YEAR!</u></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><u><br /></u></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Is it though?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">One of my favorites, marketed toward the gentlemen:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><u>Get Her The BIGGEST Gift</u></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><u><br /></u></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Obviously, yeah, you should do that. Of course, my curiosity was piqued so I opened it. Did you know a giftcard is always the right size? Clever.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Anyway, it's become a running joke in my house and part of my everyday. My phone will buzz and blink and make some weird noise (I still have no idea how to set my sounds and tones). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Oh my god, babe, I just got a super important email."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My husband looks up from his laptop.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"Cyber Monday is back!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He's started responding to me with subject lines of Victoria's Secret emails that inundate his inbox. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So our typical dinner conversation has turned into,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Me: Your 48 hours of savings is almost up. What are you doing right now??</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Him: Oh, sorry, I was shopping for gifts for my naughty and nice list!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have been shopping for stocking stuffers. It is the one tradition that stands, Mr. McKay gets a stocking full of lingerie. But I don't fall into the trap of thinking my time is limited on this sale. The only thing that is limited is the amount of time you have to purchase that lace trimmed thong in a large in Prism Violet, because they never have a large in the color I want! Okay, sometimes they do, but I'm telling you, don't wait too long. Today it's 50% off, tomorrow it might only be 30% off with a free shipping code (sometimes the better deal if you ask me).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><u>TIME IS RUNNING OUT</u></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><u><br /></u></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">(It really isn't, but it's nice to feel like I have something urgent going on.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8Z41N76OWm-DPLQKWrwwyk0AQFUa7UlEUPrphYZg2JVbRuXQIjvdwNiBi2xXujzA7BMO-ufHPyXDoBFeEo9xjLS4WjDse8-7rbPA85KczJtF-sqcwjDEE9_UOVQJwwoL9vgoUJiBQ0w/s1600/pinup+sweater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8Z41N76OWm-DPLQKWrwwyk0AQFUa7UlEUPrphYZg2JVbRuXQIjvdwNiBi2xXujzA7BMO-ufHPyXDoBFeEo9xjLS4WjDse8-7rbPA85KczJtF-sqcwjDEE9_UOVQJwwoL9vgoUJiBQ0w/s320/pinup+sweater.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-85453581627747186572016-11-11T14:11:00.000-05:002016-11-11T14:11:54.355-05:00Romance for the Soul #lovewins<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Hello, friends! I've been silent longer than I meant to. Not for any particular reason. In fact, I had good intentions of completing a blog post almost daily. I even have a couple of saved drafts of bits of things that flew through my brain that never got fully fleshed out saved in my queue.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But here I am, not to share anything groundbreaking or life changing or breathtaking. Just to say hi and to tell you that I did something today I have not done in a really long time. I got so wrapped up in reading a book I could not put it down and spent three hours laying on my couch, absently stroking the purring kitty in my lap, letting my coffee go cold in its mug while I raced through the pages and read on to completion.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhou7rtUDwhIUngnjg_9wZZJbDB_YYpyGavoqOEFMShSEqLRnhoXIMURdxYXkCC2EjKCZAbtdX57eWiLyGtTap1dJNkjjc4I7729vyUFwYCXpAAVnRQ_UX7Dcg2afGJ_6UvOudpmDykwqw/s1600/pin+up+kitten.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhou7rtUDwhIUngnjg_9wZZJbDB_YYpyGavoqOEFMShSEqLRnhoXIMURdxYXkCC2EjKCZAbtdX57eWiLyGtTap1dJNkjjc4I7729vyUFwYCXpAAVnRQ_UX7Dcg2afGJ_6UvOudpmDykwqw/s320/pin+up+kitten.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It was not my intention. Today is my day off from the day job that enslaves most of my waking hours. I had a mental list of things to complete. Menial tasks and greater more important things like writing more of the book I am authoring myself (hence the lack of blogging).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It got me to thinking. I started writing a few years ago because of my love of reading. I can tear through books at a clip. I love everything about reading. The escape from reality. Meeting people and visiting places I would not otherwise have the chance to experience. Sure, they're fictional. Or fictionalized versions of real people and real places. I stray toward romance and happy endings. But since I have started writing I have read less and less. And sometimes it takes a lot for me to get into a book, to even have the energy to read until the end of the story.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sometimes this has nothing at all to do with the books I am reading or how they are written. I just can't shut off my own mind long enough to enjoy something. Above all I have guilt that something I am doing for sheer pleasure is taking up the time I should be using to do something else. Like writing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I haven't abandoned reading. I have good intentions. My Kindle is loaded with books that I purchased that I intended to read "one day." Once in a while I scroll through them, trying to figure out which one I will try to read in guilty little snippets while I'm supposed to be doing something else.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This week I dove into this stock pile. I needed something to occupy my mind. I promise, this isn't a post about politics, I've tucked myself into a turtle shell trying to shelter myself from anything political in the last few days. But, I'm also having a hard time writing this and not mentioning politics at all. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You don't need to know my political views (although, I am sure they are leaking out in what I'm writing in this post) and we don't even need to agree on any issues at all for you to read my blog and this post in particular and take something from it. I'm just merely painting a picture of events of my week.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My spirits have dipped. My otherwise sunny outlook and bright optimism in the face of any situation has been tested. I'm tired of thinking about things. About this world and politics and the future. I hate feeling hopeless and defeated.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So I thought, what should I do? I'm going to go back to that tried and true pastime that I've been ignoring and brushing off as unimportant for too long. I'm going to find myself a book and I'm going to exist on another plane for awhile.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I scrolled through my collection of books that I found worthy enough to download but had not yet been cracked open. I stopped on one. Looking at the cover, reading the author's name, an author I had never read. And trying to remember why I purchased it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Craving-Flight-Tamsen-Parker-ebook/dp/B015GNYO1Q" target="_blank">Craving Flight by Tamsen Parker</a>. I read through the blurb again, remembering that one of my friends, who I trust in all matters of book suggestions, told me to read this one. To be honest I thought I was going to begin reading and it wasn't going to hold my interest or meet my expectations or bring me to the appropriate levels of distractedness that I needed. I dove in fully thinking I would end up being too despondent and depressed in my own mind to get fully absorbed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And then I timidly dipped my toe in the opening chapter. I met the two main characters. A total of eight lines of dialogue were exchanged between them. It takes place at a deli counter between Elan, the butcher, and Tzipporah, the college professor. But it didn't, it all played out in my living room as I laid on my couch with my sleeping cat, wrapped in a cozy blanket on a gorgeous autumn morning. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was tempted to say I had wasted my morning. I whiled away about 3 and 1/2 hours of time I meant to spend doing other things. I came away feeling refreshed. Even hopeful. How could that be wasted time?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I went to the gym on Wednesday even though I had gotten a total of four hours of sleep the night before and had worked a full day. Why? Because I mentally needed it. Yes, exercise is good for the body. But it helped my soul. It was a terrible workout, but I felt better when it was done. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Reading is important too. Getting lost in a good book, even when we're neglecting our to-do lists and life obligations. I'm going to stop thinking of reading as something I should not be doing. A guilty pleasure that achieves nothing. I should be reading. We should all be reading. We should all be taking care of our minds and our souls.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So I'm starting a new to-do list. I'm going to be kind. I'm going to be thoughtful. I'm not going to lose the hopefulness that was always ever-present inside of me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Because love will always win and I don't think anyone's politics can change that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'd be grateful for some book suggestions. Have you read a book lately that might help me escape for a bit?</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-82236459364590060522016-10-09T12:58:00.000-04:002016-10-09T12:58:25.994-04:00Crying~It's Not for the Faint of Heart<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I'm an emotional person. I don't know if I cry more than the average person, but I think I tend to cry at inopportune moments. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This past week one of these inopportune moments occurred at my job. My day job has been stressful and frustrating lately. There have been staff changes, schedule changes—pretty much every day I go in I am faced with a long day of chaos. At the end of one of these particularly long days I ended up getting into a spirited discussion with my new boss. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Feelings of frustration, exasperation that I wasn't being heard, and anger at the patronizing tone and bullshit excuses that were being thrown my way all accumulated. I had a brief vision of telling my boss exactly where he could stick his job and giving my fellow co-workers a one-fingered salute as I dashed for the exit. The daydream was satisfying.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The reality is I like having health insurance coverage.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So I pushed the anger down and plunged back into reality to have a very uncomfortable confrontation in a workplace environment. Except, the feelings were all still there. I had crunched them all down, but they were dying to get out. So my eyes started to water. I felt it and ignored it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Blink. Blink.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And then my bottom lip did this quivering thing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I bit on it and trapped it between my teeth. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But not before my boss saw it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">He gave me a horrified look—oh no, crying female. "Don't get upset."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This comment heaped on top of the patronizing tone only made things worse. "I'm not upset," I forced out in a measured and even voice. I took a deep breath and a second to center myself. I wished I could have explained to him that I literally had rage leaking out of my eyeballs. That, no, he didn't make me cry. <i>I </i>made myself cry by deciding not to fly off the handle. I wouldn't let the anger out, so it converted itself into something else and tried to slip out some other way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Of course, I didn't explain this, but I did take the opportunity of him being thrown off balance by the "almost tears" for a few moments to speak my piece. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Upon reflection, I thought of all of the other inappropriate moments where I shed a few tears during the course of my life. Because that's what I do, when something in my life happens I get a recurring slide show of every other little thing in my life that went wrong or embarrassed me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My reflection on these situations made me realize that crying gets a bad rap. It's looked on as a weakness and mostly a very feminine thing. If you're crying about something you obviously can't handle it. You're a basket case and no one wants to listen to you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Thankfully, I married a man who doesn't discount me when I'm being emotional about something. If I'm worked up and crying, I think he listens more carefully. He won't write me off, he'll ask me what's going on. It wasn't always like that. I think I did have to prove to him that I can have a rational conversation about something while I'm crying, sometimes I just can't control it. And if I can't be myself with my one true love then what is the point of anything?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Some moments that I have shed a few tears that maybe were not ideal:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>The night I lost my virginity.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Technically it wasn't even at night. It was midafternoon. And it happened to be with my now husband. I'm not sure why I cried. It didn't hurt, although I think I scared the shit out of him and he thought he mortally wounded me. There was so much build up to this one moment in time. And then it happened. I loved this man so much. I still do and I did even before we had sex. But something about it just wrenched my emotions out of me and I wound up crying as I laid in his bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I couldn't explain all of that at the moment. And I am sure I'm romanticizing a lot of it. But there was so much love and emotion welled up inside of me that I wept openly. Probably not what any guy wants to experience, but it was an honest reaction.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>Our wedding night.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Again, not really the usual reaction that a girl has to marriage. It wasn't like a replay of the night I lost my virginity because we didn't even have sex that night. It had been a whirlwind of a week. Emotions ran high. Lots of money was shelled out. We made it to the finish line. I was a little drunk, my ribs were bruised (perhaps broken) from the torture device I wore under my gown. I was exhausted. I was happy. I was overwhelmed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I was crying next to my husband of ten hours in a hotel room bed at 3am. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This was a huge milestone in my life. One I planned for and dreamed of for a long time. And it was over. Now what?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Now we're married," the ever practical Mr. McKay replied in the dark to his weeping wife beside him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"But, it's over, what do we do now?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Go to sleep."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">He was right. I slept and life went on. Sometimes I think I get so overwhelmed by the next step and just life in general that I don't know how to process it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>Playing roller derby.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I know what you're thinking, "Of course you cried during roller derby, you broke your ankle in three places last year." I didn't cry when I broke my ankle. It didn't even hurt until the next day. I did cry when they told me it was broken and I realized I was going to miss most of the season, but I don't think that's a very unusual thing, plenty of people would cry about that.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This season I am back and I've hit a good stride. I went from inexperienced newbie, never getting rostered for any games, to someone who is playing in all of the games. A team, B team, I've played in a lot of games this season and enjoyed the hell out of every single one of them. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My first A team game was in August. We drove five hours to get there. We left our husbands and wives behind, our kids and our jobs, and we took a crazy road trip. We were playing a team that outranked us. We were tired, but we were using everything we've been working on this season. When the whistle blew at the end of the first half I followed my teammates into the locker room and I was swamped with emotion. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">At this time last year, I was broken. At this time last year, my team was not playing like this. We'd all worked really hard in one year to get where we were and I was so proud. My eyes misted over as we filed into the locker room.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Are you crying?" a concerned teammate asked me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"No," I lied, as a tear escaped and ran down my cheek. "I just love you guys so much. I love playing with you."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Oh, man, she's crying!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"I'm not!" I was.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Now I'm crying," more than one person echoed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">There were lots of sweaty group hugs. And we played even harder the second half, we barely lost and we over-played everyone's expectations—even our own.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>Other things that make me cry: kittens, really good endings to books, sports documentaries I watch with my husband...</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The list could go on. But the thing is I laugh a lot too. I smile a lot. It's really easy to be my friend, just be nice to me and we're good. I don't want to paint the picture that I am some kind of sobbing lunatic all the time. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My emotions are always bubbling at the surface and I have a hard time hiding them. But my point is, crying gets a bad wrap. Not every person who cries is weak. Sometimes people are just trying to control themselves from hip checking you into the wall. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The next time you cry, don't apologize for it. And the next time someone cries in front of you, ask them why they're crying. Their answer might surprise you. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-51853173840564950852016-10-02T10:25:00.000-04:002016-10-02T10:25:09.855-04:00Collared by Rayanna Jamison~ A Naughty Sub Put in Her Place<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I'm sharing a hot scene from Rayanna Jamison's new book Collared. If you haven't purchased it yet, then why wait any longer?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Here's a taste of what to expect:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>“You need to remember your place,” he scolded, punctuating each word with a hard swat to her denim clad cheeks. “And, I am going to help you with that.”</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>With that settled, he let go of her arm. “Stay in position.” Reaching around her, with both hands, he found the button of her shorts, and released it, deftly sliding the shorts down to her ankles, and her panties with them.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>She whimpered, softly, a guttural groan in the back of her throat. She knew that whatever came next would not be good, but she stayed in position. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>“Put your feet apart, and grab your ankles.”</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Pax stood back, watching as she followed his instructions, bringing her bits into full view. She had been waxed last week, and the results were something he would never tire of seeing.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>She peered at him, glaring up from the space between her legs. Her expression seemed to challenge him. “What now?” she seemed to be saying.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>“Patience, my little sub,” he purred, moving closer to her, so that she was back within arm’s reach, watching her face soften at his expression. Calling a sub, “sub” always seemed to hit that button, and he enjoyed watching them melt right before he claimed them.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>He slapped her ass, watching with satisfaction as the skin bounced and reddened under the impact of his hand. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>“Who’s in charge here, little sub?” he growled, nearly panting through his controlled arousal. He would play with her, and teach her a lesson, but there would be no sexual release for either of them. They were at her father’s house for God’s sake.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>“You are, Sir” she squealed, as he pressed against her tightly puckered opening. Her face was flushed and she was biting her lip, as she tried to give up control, fighting her instinct to move away from his prodding fingers. He smiled to himself, recognizing the signs. She had never been touched here before. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>“My little sub seems to be an anal virgin,” he teased, growing hard himself as he pushed his index finger past her tight virgin barrier. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>“Yes, sir!” she squeaked out. “And I was hoping to keep it that way!”</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Shaking his head, he chuckled deeply at her hesitancy. “That’s not going to happen, pet. I own all of you, and I will punish all of you. There is no quicker way to remind a naughty sub of her place than by claiming her naughty bottom hole.”</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>He pumped his finger in and out slowly, watching as she struggled to hold position against this new violation. She was uncomfortable, sure, and sorry for her misstep, which was kind of the point, but her glistening pussy told the story the rest of her would never tell. She was horny as fuck. She didn’t want to be turned on with a finger in her ass—they never did, but she was.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>“Naughty subs get their bottoms punished often, pet. Anal punishments are a powerful tool in my arsenal, as you will soon learn. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle, and will train your naughty little hole to take more and more each time, and someday, you will take my cock here, and you will scream as I fuck your naughty little ass. It will happen, my pet. There’s no avoiding it. That day will come.”</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Diamond Barrett has spent the last four years hiding in plain sight, working as a show girl in Las Vegas, trying to forget the painful memories of her mother's untimely death. When the details of the gruesome accident finally surface on the morning of her 25th birthday, Diamond's pain leads her to a series of bad choices that result in the loss of her job. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Now what?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Paxton Donovan's very presence exudes dominance and captures the attention of everyone around him. He has spent years creating his brand as a business owner and professional dominant. There is no time for anything that interferes with the order with which he runs his business and life. Structure, order, rules, discipline. Business without pleasure. No distractions.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But nothing could have prepared Pax for Diamond as their two worlds collide and both of their perfectly ordered and quiet lives combust. Will their undeniable attraction and intense passion be worth the risk of pain and heartache as they shatter their safe lives?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Get it today:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://goo.gl/5iHOmT" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://goo.gl/kdUq7m" target="_blank">Amazon UK</a></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://goo.gl/IGt1VO" target="_blank">Blushing Books</a></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-67399056286147930522016-09-07T10:24:00.000-04:002016-09-07T10:24:45.245-04:00Shame Gardening and a "Punishment" Spanking<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mr. McKay and I live in a townhouse (he likes to say- "This is our Tiny House," when I watch Tiny House Nation on HGTV), our neighbors are close because we share walls with them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We try our best to be friendly. I don't need to be friends with all of them, but it's nice to say hi to the people you share a porch with. Or to know that someone will let you borrow their snow shovel to dig your car out if yours happens to break during a blizzard.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">A new neighbor moved in next door to us in the beginning of the summer. She has been dubbed "the weird dog lady." I know we shouldn't talk. We can easily be the weird cat people. But, she's weird. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">She's nice enough, and we have worked up to getting her to say hi. Before she would act like she didn't see us and then dart back into her house. Or wait in her car until we passed by before she got out to walk to her door. Maybe she was sizing us up. Now, she does say hello to us, but it always has a theme. She either mentions our cats, which she sees in our big front picture window, or she says something about the landscaping crew that comes once a week.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">She likes to garden. Now mind you, we live in townhouses, each of us has a tiny little 2'x4' patch of dirt in front of the front window that has shrubs in it. Our community has a housing association and they send out a landscaping crew. We still aren't clear—after 7 years of living here—if it is our responsibility to weed this little plot of land, or their's.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Some people plant a few flowers in there, the lawn crew seems to leave them all alone. The most we ever do is Mr. McKay will buy new mulch every spring to throw under the shrubs and cover up the weeds that are growing there. We also have some flowers growing in a tiny sliver of dirt beside our back deck. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am not a gardener. I don't enjoy any part of it. Dirt. Bugs. Sweat. It's not my cup of tea. We never had neighbors that did much to the outside of their house. And now this lady moves in and she's making our half-assed mulching look sad compared to her vast garden.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I don't really care if people look and judge. I have been making myself nervous that she is going to report us to the housing association for out of control weeds or dead flowers. You do not want the housing association on your back. They leave letters in your door and threaten to fine you. We have had notices about our back porch light (the globe around the bulb was cracked), ivy growing on the front of our house, and an old picnic table that our landlords left here that the association thought looked "rickety." Well, it was rickety, but it also wasn't ours. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So we have these flowers out back. And they all died. My mother in law mentioned that if we cut the heads off they would re-bloom. They also kind of spread and started growing in the cracks of our deck and I kept saying we should do something about that. (Really hoping Mr. McKay was going to take the hint because he likes doing garden-y things more than me.)</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The flowers before they died. Picture this mess but dead and brown.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I built up the paranoia in my mind and was convinced that weird dog lady was going to report our lazy gardening skills to the housing association. This weekend the weather was beautiful, it was mild and sunny. So I ventured out back. Ten minutes into my foray in gardening I had tiny cuts in my hands, I kept screeching when a bug flew in my face, and despite the cool breeze I was sweating. But I was barely halfway through and couldn't abandon the project because then it would look really obvious I had started to make an effort and decided against it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Forty-five minutes later all of the dead flowers had been removed. Weeds had been pulled up and things looked tidier. Whether or not the flowers would re-bloom was yet to be determined, but I had dirt under my nails and grass in my flip flops so I was done.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Meanwhile, the night before we had a late dinner. When it comes to dinner we have unspoken roles that we've never discussed. Mr. McKay normally cooks (he likes to, I hate it) and then I will pack up leftovers and clean up. I am not a night person and we ended up eating so late that I was almost immediately falling asleep on the couch. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Dinner never got packed away.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">At 8am I discovered the leftovers still out in the kitchen. I packed them up, wondering if I was going to kill us both with food poisoning in doing so—it was chicken. After stowing them in the fridge I left for work and had second thoughts about saving the leftovers, even though it kills me to throw food away.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So I texted Mr. McKay, he works from home and usually has whatever we had for dinner the night before for lunch. I warned him that the leftovers were probably no good and we should toss them. His reply? "I'll deal with you later."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Yum! Yes, please! (Am I not supposed to be that eager?)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I nearly forgot about this threat (or promise, really). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Until I was back inside the house after my foray in gardening. I took a shower to wash the outside off of me and I came out of the bathroom in a puff of steam, my wet hair dripping down my back. Mr. McKay trailed behind me, following me into our bedroom. As I slipped on fresh panties and rifled through the laundry basket for a shirt, he snagged me by the waist. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Gardening makes you grumpy," he observed as he kissed me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I agreed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"I can fix that."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Before I asked him how he intended to fix my mood, he stood up and pulled my panties down. He pushed me forward until my thighs hit the bed and I was forced to bend over. Now I am all about an impromptu spanking, but I wasn't exactly in the right mood. For one, I WAS grumpy, I was also tired. I kind of felt like napping, not like getting my freak on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But I am sure I am not the only person in the world who has a partner whose kinks don't exactly line up with mine. I feel like it took a long time for me to convince him that spanking me whenever was fine. He didn't have to ask. We didn't have to talk about it. He didn't have to wait for me to request it. So I wasn't about to undo all of this progress by complaining I was tired and putting a halt to everything.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So I went with it. And it hurt at first. A lot. He was only using his hand, but I wriggled around and said 'ow' a lot and wondered why I liked this to begin this. Do I like this? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Then I took a few deep breaths and settled into it and stopped thinking so much. And he didn't stop. But a flip switched somewhere and instead of it hurting and instead of being tired, I was arching my back and opening my legs. He'd smack and then caress and reach down between my thighs. Now things were on the right track.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Next he picked up the Magic Wand. He turned it on and placed it under me so it was sandwiched between my clit and the bed. Then he got the flogger. Much lighter than his hand, but enough to reignite the sting that was already there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It all got to be too much, I started arching off the bed so I could move away from the vibrations. But every time I did, Mr. McKay put a firm hand on my lower back and pushed me back down.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The flogger, the control, the vibrator. It was all too much. I was either going to die or come until my brain exploded. Well, my brain didn't exactly explode. But things got fuzzy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">He pulled me up onto the bed and kissed and caressed until I regained use of my limbs. Things progressed and we made an afternoon of it, until we finally had to come up for air because our growling stomachs could no longer be ignored.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As I staggered from the bed to again find my underwear and some clean clothes, Mr. McKay pulled me close and whispered, "That'll teach you."</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-30479351088654447862016-08-24T13:51:00.000-04:002016-08-24T14:28:15.858-04:00The McKay's Summer Vacation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYeCHrFKtDGQAWNQAdZCsymeBpNd3712-XM1_2wnPu1M31XMOtOAA3h1jE8QJ81w5KFQqQAaYvYiM8fFJf83TNyVNSfDECUjnWZN1Qa_r4q7AxY3Q0vLRif4thIbI3BgLmmlT52dCWb6I/s1600/pin+up+summer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYeCHrFKtDGQAWNQAdZCsymeBpNd3712-XM1_2wnPu1M31XMOtOAA3h1jE8QJ81w5KFQqQAaYvYiM8fFJf83TNyVNSfDECUjnWZN1Qa_r4q7AxY3Q0vLRif4thIbI3BgLmmlT52dCWb6I/s320/pin+up+summer.jpg" width="253" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">A trend that has involuntarily occurred since the beginning of our marriage is that we've never gone on vacation. We've had "staycations" which normally involve fun things like organizing closets. We've had weekend getaways, which most of the time isn't worth the fuss of packing and traveling, you're right back home before you know it. And lately, the new thing is going on trips that are all derby related. I'm not complaining about that, I love that my husband loves the sport I'm obsessed with, but they aren't really vacations.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This summer, we promised to take a trip down south to visit my inlaw's new house. They built a house to retire in, even though they are still living up here for now. So their gorgeous house snugged up against a golf course has become their vacation home for the time being. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We went for six days and it was delightful. I never realized how important it was to get away for a bit. It also made me realize that you can take Mr. McKay and I out of our element, but that doesn't change us in the least. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We were walking through an antique store with my mother in law—only it wasn't really an antique store, it was new stuff made to look old that gets sold to rich people. Anyway, for whatever reason there were giant bird cages in there. Mr. McKay made some comment to the effect of, "Casey doesn't like these." Gesturing at the assortment of cages. I thought he was referencing my fear of birds.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">His mother ambled away browsing around and he tugged me toward an oversized cage that was probably about four feet high.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"What kind of bird would you put in there?" I asked. I realized it was probably just for decorative purposes, but I was having a hard time even visualizing what one would do with a four-foot tall bird cage.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"You could fit in there," he said. Then leaned in closer. "I could lock you up, it'd be kinky."</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZMc4z2hcytJblX2t692pK7PW-MFdCBv2yyUfhfEwWKCwL03FuM_EYsvcEnVrQVxyTEAWjn9AihCeK1D2IQxxEGFN4CzK7tw-QLriJ0aMSq2nruRed6lAIKlZEj6mboGr7I1pvOw6O3J0/s1600/girl+in+birdcage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZMc4z2hcytJblX2t692pK7PW-MFdCBv2yyUfhfEwWKCwL03FuM_EYsvcEnVrQVxyTEAWjn9AihCeK1D2IQxxEGFN4CzK7tw-QLriJ0aMSq2nruRed6lAIKlZEj6mboGr7I1pvOw6O3J0/s320/girl+in+birdcage.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I whipped my head around to check the proximity of his mother and then punched him in the arm. He never fails to be amused by my talk of BDSM likes and dislikes. I've read books where submissives are locked in cages, and I get that it is a thing people like. I just don't think I ever would want that in real life. I brought this up to Mr. McKay one day. Not that I think he would ever ask to lock me in a cage, but just putting it out there that I'm not okay with it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">He had so many questions. What was I reading? Where was this cage and how did this get brought up in the story? Now he just likes to tease me with this bit of information at inopportune moments, like say, when we're antiquing with his mother. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Antique stores have a lot of weird things in them. It makes you wonder why people save certain things and why they think other people will want to buy the crap they held on to. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Aside from antiquing, it was too hot to do anything of note except lay inside the air conditioning all day and then go out to dinner. So we mostly laid around, drank and watched the Olympics. Then went to dinner and drank some more. It was the perfect vacation!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">There were a few things I learned:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">1. Air mattresses are not meant for long term sleeping arrangements and will make you feel like you are 80 when you get up in the morning. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">2. The Olympics make me cry, from the little touching stories they put together of the Olympians, to an underdog winning gold, to the medal ceremonies. I teared up too many times to count.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">3. I like grits. And shrimp and grits are my new favorite thing!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">4. Doing nothing on vacation away from home is far more relaxing than doing nothing in your own house.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">5. I can map out an entire book on a nine hour car ride home. I think I remembered most of it too!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Anyone do anything fun this summer? The season is rapidly drawing to close. I like the fall and everything but it always makes a little sad to see the summer come to an end.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-32786408820378941672016-08-19T11:05:00.001-04:002016-08-19T11:05:52.325-04:00A Spanking to Heat Things Up!~ Constance Masters Visits!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeYwsAc2qjv7VlYPz3bj8aAF-8dfX_GJER6MKkLMywCdjqYag_MTAc6WkDXOSq6y8wR8eHry80dW9ds_1NVELRYP2nUwyxUzWnbz1nUJFyGv7GtAyoyIxeOx67H-2ort5rFYELyo6AjrY/s1600/Trickery_promo+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeYwsAc2qjv7VlYPz3bj8aAF-8dfX_GJER6MKkLMywCdjqYag_MTAc6WkDXOSq6y8wR8eHry80dW9ds_1NVELRYP2nUwyxUzWnbz1nUJFyGv7GtAyoyIxeOx67H-2ort5rFYELyo6AjrY/s400/Trickery_promo+4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This is definitely next on my summer reading list! I love the way Constance Masters writes and the set up for this book sounds like a comedy caper reminiscent of the old classic movies I like to watch. And then also, there's spanking, the best of all worlds :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Trickery by Constance Masters</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Blurb:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Morgan King is a 23 year old virgin who has never had a proper boyfriend. The fussy young woman longs to meet a man everything like the heroes in the spanking romance novels she loves to read. When such a man comes along, Morgan is sure that he must be too good to be true and balks at actually meeting him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jackson Brooks is a 29 year old middle school teacher who works summers at his family’s summer camp. When he gets to know Morgan on an online dating site, he is sure she’s the girl for him. They are both ready to settle down and he doesn’t understand why she is so hesitant to meet him in person. His confusion deepens when he finds out she has sent him a fake photo; he is not happy. With his job as director of the summer camp looming, he decides to give the elusive Morgan some space.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Morgan is devastated when she realizes she has probably blown things with Jackson. The desperate young woman hatches a plan to get to know him secretly. She pretends to be her own mother and books herself into Sunnyvale Summer Camp under the name of Alyssa King, using her sister’s birth certificate. What will happen when Jackson finds out?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Excerpt:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Jackson stood and walked around to her side of the desk. “Stand up.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“What are you doing?” Morgan’s eyes were wide with disbelief but she did as he asked. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“Bend over the desk.” He moved his things out of the way and stood back while she bent over. “Stay there.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“What are you going to do? You can’t really mean to spank me, not here. Someone will hear you!” Morgan shifted nervously, her fingers automatically tugging at the frayed hem of her shorts. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“They won’t because you will not make a sound. You are going to take what you have coming to you and you are going to be completely silent. Not one little whimper because you know you deserve every single lick.” Jackson was angry and he had to decide what to do but there was no way he could even think straight until he’d metered out at least some punishment. It was nothing compared to what he wanted to do but he had to bear in mind there were kids on the property and for the most part he had to concentrate on them. This bottom warming would have to be quick and sharp.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“But I?” Morgan squirmed uncomfortably.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“The only butt I’m interested in is the one I’m about to punish. Stay in that position and wait.” He was surprised that she did as he told her. Jackson locked his office door and walked through to his adjoining sleeping quarters to find something to spank her with. He needed something with maximum sting and yet whisper quiet. He had to remember that as far as the other councillors knew, he was holed up in here with a teenage girl. If they heard any kind of slap they could call the police and both of them could end up in jail. He took a belt out of his closet, folded it and cracked it across his palm. The sting was considerable but it was not noiseless. Could he use a rubber flip-flop? Nope, the slapping sound was distinctive and quite loud. Finally he grabbed the tilt wand from the blinds and flicked it across his hand. Perfect. It packed a good sting and was completely silent. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>When he walked back into the office he was pleased to see that Morgan hadn’t moved. That was something. So her name was Morgan King. At least he could put a name, face and very soon, smacked bottom to the person he’d been talking to, at last. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“What’s that?” Morgan asked, her head shooting around and her jaw dropping with shock when she saw what he was holding. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“Bend back over.” He pressed her down slightly and pulled at her light shorts until they were buried within her crease. This left a pleasing amount of her naked butt cheeks on show. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“I’m scared,” Morgan whimpered into her arm. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“Good, you deserve to be scared.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“I’m sorry Jackson, I really am.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Jackson had to steel himself. “I’m going to spank your sassy, dishonest behind hard with this, plastic whatever it is, because you have put both of us at risk of being in terrible trouble with the law. You haven’t even had a criminal record check. My brother and sister in-law could lose their business. All because you didn’t think about anyone but yourself.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“And I’m not a criminal!” </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“I didn’t say you were but it is against the law to work wth kids without the proper checks.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“I just wanted to get to know you.” Morgan was crying and he hadn’t even smacked her yet.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“There were better ways than this to get to know me.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“I can see that now!”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“Hush,” he whispered.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Jackson raised his hand and brought the fiery little stick down hard across both plump cheeks. He would have loved for the first time he spanked this woman to have been with his hand. He wanted nothing more than to feel those soft cheeks ripple beneath his bare hand. He so wanted to hear the satisfying clap of flesh meeting flesh. He brought his chosen gadget down again, a little lower than the first pink line. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“Please Jackson,” Morgan begged quietly. “It hurts.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“It’s not supposed to tickle Morgan. Honestly, you are so lucky that I can’t give you exactly what you deserve or you would be getting a thorough hand spanking followed by a few licks of my belt.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“I’ll do anything you want if you stop, please.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>The whippy little plastic rod danced up and down her soft white flesh and she was dancing on her toes to ease the sting. “Keep still Alyssa,” he whispered. “You know you deserve this.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“But it burns—and my name is Morgan.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“Good, I hope it keeps on burning Morgan.” He hoisted her up by a handful of shorts and made sure he covered the area that usually remained hidden in the crease. He didn’t want the effects of this spanking to wear off too soon. Finally he put the wand down on the desk and pulled her shorts back into place to cover her bottom. She looked adorable; both hands were rubbing her sore bottom while she stood there with her messy hair and her tear stained cheeks looking completely contrite. He wanted nothing more than to hug her and kiss away her tears. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“That hurt.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“I hope so honey.” He pulled her against him for their first ever, real hug and he had to admit, it felt good to hold Morgan in his arms, if only it was under better circumstances. “Enough, I need to figure out what to do next.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“What are we gonna do?”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“Good question and when I decide I’ll let you know.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“Fine, don't let me interrupt your thoughts on what I am going to be doing.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“Hush Morgan, I need to decide quickly what to do about this,” Jackson said. “Whitney is going to be expecting me to have you removed.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“Oh well we have to do what makes Whitney happy.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“What do you mean happy? This isn’t about making Whitney happy it’s about Whitney knowing what the rules are and expecting me to follow them.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“Does she even know what was in the bag?”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“No, I asked her to bring it to me. Councillors don’t have the authority to search bags.” He was starting to realize that they were the only two that knew about any of this.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“This is about me. At least I should have a bit of a say about what we do next.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“Deciding what’s the right thing for everyone though isn’t easy and I’m the adult here.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“I am an adult.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>“And you have demonstrated that so well.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Buy now at <a href="https://goo.gl/Qh6qQJ" target="_blank">Amazon</a> and <a href="http://goo.gl/3yqfgJ" target="_blank">Barnes and Noble</a></b></span></h3>
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Author Bio: </div>
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Constance Masters is a wife, mother, grandmother, friend and author.</div>
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She writes romantic spanking fiction with the main emphasis on romance.</div>
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Constance has always been a sucker for reading romance and that reflects in her writing but she also likes to laugh. Her stories are full of love, laughter and family comedy. It's a lot like her life.</div>
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<b>Where can you find Constance?</b></div>
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<a href="https://goo.gl/GXrB9P" target="_blank">Facebook</a></div>
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<a href="mailto:constancemasters@gmail.com" target="_blank">Email</a></div>
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<a href="https://goo.gl/8ZAwLy" target="_blank"><br /></a></div>
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<a href="https://goo.gl/8ZAwLy" target="_blank">Blog</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-76816501174939435432016-07-27T00:00:00.000-04:002016-07-27T00:00:08.641-04:00Bad Math and Cheating Death~ Happy Birthday to Me!<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Today happens to be my birthday. Really though, it's a Wednesday, and as you're reading this I am slaving away at my day job when I would much rather be in comfy clothes, lounging on the couch with a cat or two. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I turn 34 today. Which is actually pretty exciting because I think somewhere around January I had prematurely aged myself and stopped thinking I was 33 and thought I was already 34. So one day last week I was thinking about how I was turning 35 this year and getting very depressed (because 35 sounds important, at 35 you can be president, by 35 you should have done things with your life). But then I did some math, some actual math where I had to remember what year we were in and then subtracted my year of birth—it was all way more complicated than it should have been because a person should know how old they actually are!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It's all cleared up now. 34. For an entire year! I added a whole year to my life and pretty much cheated death (or I'm just so bad at math I can't remember how old I am).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This year has been a struggle in a lot of different ways. I've been feeling less like myself lately. Nothing tragic, I just haven't been feeling like going out and being a little social butterfly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This past weekend we were going to a party at a friend's house. We were going to see friends we hadn't seen in a while who I really really wanted to see. But I just couldn't get myself into the socializing mood. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I was wearing a cute little sundress (because the past week has felt like we are living on the surface of the sun) and I decided to put on cuter panties. I mean, that's normal, right? Doesn't everyone change their panties when they feel like they need a little lift in their mood?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I put on a lacy red thong to match my red dress and as I walked past Mr. McKay, I flashed him. He followed me into the kitchen and proceeded to lift up the back of my dress as I bent over to get some beer out of the fridge. I was trying to get some cans out of a case of beer we had bought so I could bring them to the party we were going to. Mr. McKay used this moment to spank my ass. But apparently I am not just bad at math, but also science and knowing how gravity works because I opened the side of the box and they all started rolling out at me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I'm hunched over, trying to catch beer cans before they drop on my feet or hit the floor and explode and Mr. McKay continues smacking my bare ass.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Stop!" I yelled, catching a few more cans as the tumbled out of the fridge.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"No." He's calm as can be, like we're not about to have exploding beer cans all over the floor.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"I'm fucking this up!" I catch two more and shove them on a lower shelf before preparing to catch the next three. My frustration level heightens as he smacks me harder and I jerk forward.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Yeah. You are." The last and the hardest smack comes before he bends over me and stands the box on its end, rescuing the last of the beer. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Not sure why I didn't think to do that.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We were going to be late if we kept up our shenanigans, but we did make out like a couple of teenagers while he cupped my hot ass in his hands. This only serves as further reminder that I need to get a curtain for our kitchen window, you never know who could be out back!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">One last thing. In honor of my birthday, I want to give you all a gift, all of my KU books are free until Sunday. If you've already read them, tell a friend!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Here's a link to my <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Casey-McKay/e/B00CFPH9DY" target="_blank">author page</a>! Happy Reading :)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-45984812112342039702016-07-20T09:31:00.000-04:002016-07-20T09:31:28.536-04:00Flogging Fantastic! #sextoys<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">You know you are doing something right with your life when you get an email offering you a free sex toy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The UK based company <a href="https://www.bondagebunnies.co.uk/" target="_blank">Bondage Bunnies</a> emailed me to see if I would give an honest review in exchange for something from their site. Being an author, I know all about trying to get reviews, so of course I would help. It's work after all ;)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The nice woman who contacted me asked if I had a preference for what I would be receiving. I told her to surprise me, which immediately after hitting send on that email I started to have second thoughts. Who tells someone to surprise them when talking about sex toys? What if she sent me something completely out of my comfort zone?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The term "whip" had been thrown around and now I had images in my head of some harsh and scary single tailed whip that I wouldn't be able to tolerate. I told all of this to Mr. McKay and he just smiled at me. It was a disconcerting smile, I feared what that smile meant!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The thing is, we don't have a very extensive implement collection. Or I should say, we don't own many implements that we use. I have come to realize I might be a bit of a baby when it comes to spanking, or maybe it doesn't happen enough, but anything too harsh and I can't hack it. Most of the time it's just Mr. McKay's hand, and that is all I need (don't discount the harshness of that).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So when I got this in the mail I was equal parts excited and terrified:</span><br />
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<a href="https://www.bondagebunnies.co.uk/collections/house-of-eros-collection/products/house-of-eros-light-flogger-30cm" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTPCa0_j4JQsHKyvQ8M8__lm-sqQIs-cMGWDrVVq2hSvMwIff4Bae57gj5rR5lyMFaQp0Y4xjtK_2sCRQppg5P74pmkUkh9Whrzeh5M_scVN_BU611PKJjyz-L6U9SqBpq2MtC9HxrXzk/s320/House+of+Eros+flogger.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It's silky smooth, soft leather tickles through your fingers, but I was worried about the impact. And it makes this whooshing noise when you swing it that is a little worrisome. I mean, I didn't think it was going to maim me, but I thought there was a distinct possibility I was going to hate every part of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I was pleasantly surprised! I came to find out that the flogger by itself on my back and ass was kind of relaxing. Without anything else going on, it made me want to close my eyes and drift off. (A warning: don't almost fall asleep during sexy times, it's frowned upon.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After that, I got to feel what the flogger felt like on a freshly spanked ass. When your skin is already hot and stinging this definitely amps up the heat! Not to unbearable levels, but the ends of the tendrils leave a bit of a sting. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My favorite part was that you can use this flogger on other areas. Lying on my back I got a little nervous when Mr. McKay aimed at my nipples, but again, I was surprised in a good way. The ends of the tendrils left enough of a bite to get me even more aroused, but it wasn't so much that I was flinching and turning away. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I'm saving the best part for last. Let me tell, you have not lived until you've had your clit flogged. Again, I would not have sought this out or even thought I would have liked it. It seemed accidental to me at first. I was face up and Mr. McKay pushed my legs up and was getting the crease below my ass and the tops of my thighs and then all of a sudden it hit my clit. I let out a little shriek because I wasn't expecting it, but then I settled back in and parted my thighs a little more. He took the hint ;)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I was also informed it wasn't an accident to begin with. Always two steps ahead, that one.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In summation, I loved this flogger. Light enough to use on sensitive areas, but still leaving a sting when used after something more intense. I think it will become a regular character in our everyday arsenal. I just have to remember not to leave it in the living room—although it might pass as a cat toy ;)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You can find the <a href="https://www.bondagebunnies.co.uk/collections/house-of-eros-collection/products/house-of-eros-light-flogger-30cm" target="_blank">House of Eros Light Flogger</a> here! I'd recommend looking around the Bondage Bunnies site while you're there, they have lots to offer, I got lost in their lingerie section for a while.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-1008460488816795102016-07-17T10:58:00.000-04:002016-07-17T10:58:02.555-04:00"I'm Going to Spank You, Hard."~ Jaye Peaches Visits!<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I have Jaye Peaches on my blog today! She has a re-release out called <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Know-You-Jaye-Peaches-ebook/dp/B01IEFWK5A" target="_blank">To Know You</a>. It's lots of yummy D/s and BDSM.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If you haven't read this one yet, you are missing out! Gemma and Jason are utterly delicious. This is one of my favorite scenes earlier on in their relationship together. Jason owns the company Gemma is an intern for, and her officemates have been gossiping about their relationship. Jason isn't particularly happy about that :</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>“Are you going to fire me, sir?” I whispered, hoping to placate him quickly. “Punish me?” I didn’t want it. But there again, it worked. It moved things on. When done right, except, I still wasn’t sure if he understood how much trust I placed in his integrity.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Jason sighed, and perched on his desk. “No. The situation is under control. Managers have been slapped back into line. I’m not going to fire you. It’s obvious you didn’t intend to make mischief and I don’t think it would help your career. I want this, us, to work, which means I will punish you—I’m not going to fire your arse, like I warned you I would.” </i></span><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Gone were the unpleasant tones of an angry boss. Something else switched into play—husky, stern and bizarrely warming. It was exactly what I needed to hear.</i><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Striding to the door, he bolted it, locking us in. “I want you to stand facing the wall, over there, nose against it while you compose yourself.”</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>I trembled, my heart pounding, as I carried out his instructions. I was strangely excited—punishment in an office was a fantasy of mine—except the fantasy was really happening. What was he going to do to me? Wedged in the corner, my legs wobbled.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Eventually, he issued his next command. “Drop your skirt and knickers off.”</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Inhaling deeply, I shuffled out of my skirt and slipped out of my knickers, leaving behind my stockings and high heels. I picked the clothes up and laid them on one of the chairs.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Jason selected a chair and moved it away from the conference table. Sitting on it, he waved me over with his forefinger, while with the other hand he undid his tie and pulled it out from under his collar. With a flick of his wrist, he loosened the top button.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>“Turn around,” he instructed, and he used his necktie to bind my wrists. Holding my arm by the elbow, he lowered me across his lap, then hooked his leg over and trapped my thighs. He pressed down on the small of my back with the flat of his hand.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>“I’m going spank you, Gemma, hard. This is a punishment,” a soft yet stern tone, “Why am I punishing you?”</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>“Because I was indiscreet, Sir,” I murmured. Underneath his hand, he must have been able to feel my racing heartbeats.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>I closed my eyes and waited. The smack swept across both cheeks. He’d kept his palm rigid and flat, swiping up from right to left. Pain radiated out immediately and I gasped. While I gritted my teeth, more swipes followed. I hung my head and attempted to concentrate on processing the pain.</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Know-You-Jaye-Peaches-ebook/dp/B01IEFWK5A" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgydApReF4W4XA5vB5ixeLvH_3FxXzq9zb_dES7gtQPi5bG-mrznRGtFrFGwaPcv-rZVbU9FL3M-FGAjqWSSNABV97A_O9Dpc1ljozOX7KDG6M6n5V01zcNktRzj9qUeGB7aEOGcyGbltI/s320/jp+to+know+you+final.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">What happens when a kink loving woman has to come to terms with a traumatic episode in her life? Can the broken submissive learn to trust again?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">When Gemma Marshall resigns from a good job to work as a lowly intern in the heart of the City of London, immediately, the elusive company boss, Jason Lucas, seduces her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Following a whirlwind of weekend trysts at his country mansion, Jason’s need to dominate her re-awakens her terrifying nightmares and leads to revelations from both of them. What Jason seeks is an enduring relationship which means Gemma, if she wishes to win his heart and soul, has to return to the extraordinary life she’d left behind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Can Gemma survive another relationship with an alluring master of the bedroom or will she finally turn her back on her natural desires?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Their passionate and highly erotic affair reaches crisis point when her ex-lover hunts her down, seeking retribution.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">To Know You is a fictional account of two people who begin a journey together. It is a complete story. Both characters are sexy and know what they want. Neither are novices, neither expect love in their relationship. One takes control and the other yields. In the bedroom, there are the erotic scenes of BDSM, discipline and romance. The dynamic can be intoxicating—and dangerous.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Trust is key. Communicating trust. Building trust and maintaining integrity. And love? It’s not always about love - until Gemma meets Jason. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">(Previously published as Trust Me to Know You)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Buy today on <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Know-You-Jaye-Peaches-ebook/dp/B01IEFWK5A" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-82351726137545486682016-07-16T00:00:00.000-04:002016-07-16T00:00:18.958-04:00A Punishment She Needs~ Saturday Spankings!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://saturdayspankings.blogspot.com/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieQT5Kb5LbH1dBHrvjG-jQCnxOn3CAFx2sdkWx4A12MXjxITRKYxYwVH7i3jn3VhflkTVgZ9XpMLdsDJ2bKFFYjfs5Mxaqwvtb0TQ-2YqXKrzOa3lGN1DtCTOXz1NheXAFvm6TcQ-mU8I/s400/Saturday+Spankings.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I won't lie, it's been so long since I participated in <a href="http://saturdayspankings.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Saturday Spankings</a> that I had to look up the rules! It's been a weird year, but I am excited to say that I have a new release!! <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Claimed-Masters-Fetishes-Book-4-ebook/dp/B01IIXMZ0S" target="_blank">Claimed</a>, book four in The Masters of Fetishes Series is live!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">You don't have to have read the last three (but they are in a handy box set if you want to). Here's a little tease: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>As if reading her mind, he released her ankles and pulled her upright. "Let's go, gorgeous. You'll get a reward for your pretty little begging. But first, to finish your punishment."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>She didn't know if he expected her to kick up a fuss or not. She just followed him eagerly, her hands still bound behind her back. She wanted him to punish her, needed him to. But when he picked up a cane she hadn't noticed leaning against the wall, she paused. </i></span><br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Claimed-Masters-Fetishes-Book-4-ebook/dp/B01IIXMZ0S" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIpDdzcDsbD6vj0Uc6vRDPJHS9wzj3JORJxYCfFdvDZbidLNUMOYNGKVxyH9HwJdQhXqtKPmKyGIDayUVjHJykUOQ2jglb9xDDMHxiSMi8hfoPYPaLrigC6qYev4uR3OxUP57_sg9KV6U/s320/cm+claimed+final.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Dani has a full life, or so she thinks. She’s busy with her job as head of security for Fetishes, an exclusive BDSM club. Devoting herself to her career leaves her little time for anything else—like a personal life. But when a stranger from her past reemerges, Dani starts to question her priorities and the choices she’s made.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Liam never forgot her. She’s haunted his dreams and every waking moment ever since she walked out of his life. Now that he has found his way back to Dani, he doesn’t want to lose her again. But Dani’s reluctant when Liam pursues her. He’s known since the beginning that she was his but can he convince her to let him in?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">On sale now at <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Claimed-Masters-Fetishes-Book-4-ebook/dp/B01IIXMZ0S" target="_blank">Amazon</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Check out all the other Saturday Spankers!</span><br />
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<!-- start LinkyTools script --><script src="http://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=269398" type="text/javascript"></script><!-- end LinkyTools script -->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2512079146988215768.post-41091561805373836082016-07-15T17:25:00.000-04:002016-07-15T17:25:20.882-04:00The Great Zombie Virus of 2016<h2>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Also~ Squat Challenge Update!</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I really love blogging. I seriously do. And it kills me that I haven't posted anything in almost a month. I have a story and I will tell you what happened.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was rolling along with my squat challenge. Doing all the squats, going to work, doing author-y stuff, playing derby. And then, boom! I needed to sleep. All. The. Time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It was weird. I had a slight cough. Nothing concerning or anything that really bothered me at all. Then I had a day off and I wanted to relax on the couch. Only I didn't just relax. I didn't move. And I slept, on and off all day. This is weird for me, I am not a napper! If I say I am taking a nap, more than likely I am laying down reading, or shutting my eyes for 10 minutes because I have a headache. But I can't ever really nap. So here I was, sleeping my day off away.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I thought I had just over-exerted myself. One day of catch up sleep and I would be good! Right? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Wrong.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It went on like this. For days. My cough got worse, my nose stuffed up. But still it was just a cold with the side effect of needing 20 hours of sleep per day. Not that I have the luxury to sleep that much. My day kind of looked like this. Get up, shower, become exhausted, take 20 minute nap. Get up, eat breakfast, take 10 minute nap. Go to work, function through a fog, come home and nap. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It was awful! It made me really empathize with anyone who has a chronic illness because I understood how hard it was to function during daily life. I worried something was really seriously wrong so I headed to the clinic. Turns out there is just a virus going around and I had a mild case! A MILD case! That blew my mind! But people have been getting fevers and pneumonia, bronchitis and all this fun stuff. I just had a runny nose and a cough that rattled the windows. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It threw me for a loop for about two weeks. Sadly, my squat challenge did not get completed in the actual month of June. But it's hard to exercise when you can't keep your eyes open.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I did finish, on July 11th. Just a little late! I had four days to go and it seemed stupid to quit just because it wasn't June anymore.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The last four days were rough! But I made it through all the way up to 250 squats!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I might still do a few every day. Mr. McKay likes to walk past and fondle me while I'm mid squat, it's a perk ;)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I just wanted to let you all know I am not dead! And aside from a lingering cough I have survived The Great Zombie Virus of 2016. I have fun things coming soon. I promise!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09958878959625455361noreply@blogger.com0