The Difference in a Kiss~ Untamed Hearts

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!

I figured I would share another glimpse into Kate, Aaron, and Ben. Stay tuned for buy links hopefully later today!

Ben, who still held her hand, tugged her further into the room. Turning her toward him he looked down into her eyes. 
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. 
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. 
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.
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."
Kate's face must have shown her confusion because he gave her a reassuring smile.
"It's all about communication. None of this can work if we aren't being honest with each other."
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.
"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.
He halted his steps and cocked his head to the side. "Am I making you nervous?"
"No," she lied, dropping her arms and trying to look more relaxed. "I was just wondering who slept in here."
"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."
"Oh." She didn't know what else to say. 
"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. 
She didn't want to keep shrinking away from him.
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."
Did he mean sex? She didn't know why, but that offended her.
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."
"What kind of tastes?"
He pushed her backward until the backs of her legs hit the bed. "You'll see, darling."
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.  
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.
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. 
When he finally lifted his head, she found she was short of breath. 
Aaron smiled down at her. "Breathe through your nose, babe."
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. 
He'd also lost his shirt, standing at the end of the bed with his light wash jeans hanging off his hips. 
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 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."
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.

"Hmm, I think we need to help her relax." Ben climbed onto the bed beside her.

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?


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? 

Buy Untamed Hearts on Amazon now!

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Romance for the Soul #lovewins

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.

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.

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).

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.

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. 

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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.

Craving Flight by Tamsen Parker. 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. 

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. 

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?

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. 

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.

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. 

Because love will always win and I don't think anyone's politics can change that. 

I'd be grateful for some book suggestions. Have you read a book lately that might help me escape for a bit?

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Bad Math and Cheating Death~ Happy Birthday to Me!

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. 

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!

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).

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.

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. 

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?

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.

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.

"Stop!" I yelled, catching a few more cans as the tumbled out of the fridge.

"No." He's calm as can be, like we're not about to have exploding beer cans all over the floor.

"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.

"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. 

Not sure why I didn't think to do that.

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!

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!

Here's a link to my author page! Happy Reading :)

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Masters of Fetishes Box Set #menage #spanking #BDSM

A Nifty Box Set! Masters of Fetishes for a low price, this weekend only!

Get it before it ends. You can get the first three books in my Masters of Fetishes series for the low price of $6.99! (Each book retails for $3.99, so this is a steal!)

I've just completed the fourth in the series and it will be coming soon, but in the meantime, if you haven't read 1-3 you can grab them up now.

Here's a little something from Mastered:

"What is there to think about?" Adam crossed in front of the love seat she still shared with Tom. He leaned down, bracing his hand on the armrest, and looked into her eyes. "Are you into BDSM at all? Were you looking to be someone's submissive?"

She slumped down in her seat, his proximity making her uncomfortable. When she shifted to look at Tom, Adam put a finger on her cheek, stilling her movements. "No, don't look at him, I asked you a question. It's really a simple one. Do you like BDSM?"

"I, I..." her voice croaked as she stammered out a reply. Did she like BDSM? She couldn't lie that the prospect of the auction had seemed appealing when Serena suggested it. But her experience consisted of what she read in romance novels. And one boyfriend who tied her up, once, but that was less than spectacular. "Yes?" she finally replied. At least she thought she liked BDSM, although what she had witnessed in the club so far all seemed overwhelming.

"That's something, I guess," Adam said, taking his hand from her face and standing at his full height again.

"Are you done scaring her?" Tom asked.

"For now."


She allowed Tom to lead her from the room, fully aware of Adam's presence behind them. Not for the last time that evening she wondered what the hell she had gotten into.

Masters of Fetishes Box Set-- ON SALE now for $6.99

Fetishes. An exclusive BDSM club where all of your desires are satisfied. What better way to become acquainted than meeting the men who started it all? They are the Masters of Fetishes, and the women who love them.

Mastered
Hailey lies about being a seasoned submissive on her application to get into Fetishes annual auction. She's looking to make some quick money, but she ends up with more than she bargained for. When Adam and Tom discover her misbehavior they decide to give her an introduction to the BDSM lifestyle. They intend to show her what it's like to be a trained submissive. Their trained submissive.

Cherished
Serena's crushed when she learns her perfect relationship with a wealthy, powerful, and unrelenting Dom isn't perfect at all. She's still overcoming the embarrassment of her breakup and bad judgment when she meets Ethan. But Ethan comes with his own personal baggage in tow. Can Serena open her heart enough to let in this Master of the Club? Or are Ethan and Serena doomed to relive their mistakes of the past?

Bound

Melissa's been with her boyfriend, Martin, for ten years but she still isn't convinced that anything is permanent. Feeling the distance growing between them, Martin takes Melissa on the trip of a lifetime to a private island in the Caribbean. He tries to convince her to make things official by marrying him but Melissa worries that her past is too much for them to overcome. When Melissa's life is put in jeopardy, Martin becomes even more determined to make her officially his.

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I'm Not Sorry

Recently, I was out with my cousin. She's the same age as me, she's married to a great guy and has two adorable and sweet little kids. She's involved in the PTA and was regaling me with a story about a crazy mom who brought vegan cupcakes to school and refused to offer any of the kids regular cupcakes.

Then she brought up how all the mom's at the bus stop bitch about their husbands. I don't have kids, so I don't frequent school bus stops, but I have been involved in conversations with other women where all they do is bitch about their significant others.

"I don't have anything to complain about," my cousin admitted, almost apologetically. "Sometimes I try to think of something just so I can contribute to the conversation."

I've been in similar situations with the women at work. One of my co-workers said one time, "Oh, don't bitch to Casey, she actually likes her husband. She's weird."

It makes me sad that that makes me weird. Why is it weird to like your spouse? And why do women who have happy marriages feel like they have to apologize for it?

This particular conversation my cousin was telling me about stemmed from bath time. Apparently this is a hot topic with the bus stop moms. They have husbands who refuse to help with bath time. There was a PTA meeting that week and one mom was lamenting that if it ran late again she'd have to rush home to get her kid into the bath and into bed on time.

"I don't have to ask for Mike's help, he just gets the kids into the bath if I'm not home," my cousin went on. "Actually, as long as we're both home, we do bath time together. It's kind of our thing. We've never talked about it, we just always have. It's our routine."

This brought on some heart-tugging imagery I conjured up of my cousin and her little family all piled into their bathroom together. And really, her son is six and growing up fast. How much longer is he going to want to bathe with his little sister? I told her to hang on to these moments and I decided right there on the spot that I wanted that too. 

"I'm afraid to admit how good I have it," she said.

"Why? I think you should just tell them."  

"And be the source of marital discord in the neighborhood?"

But why should we be hiding our good relationships like skeletons in the closet? I stopped apologizing for the fact that my husband makes me dinner every night. Or that I'd rather hang out with him than have a "girl's night". 

There is some debate about what the divorce rate actually is nowadays. You hear 50% tossed around a lot. That half of all marriages are doomed to end in divorce (or maybe not doomed, maybe it's for the best for those people). This article I found argues that it might actually be declining. 

Whatever the case may be—if someone unhappy in their marriage feels completely at ease to air their grievances in a semi public social setting, why should someone on the opposite end of the spectrum feel like they can't speak up?

A lot of times you'll get criticized for not saying anything at all. My husband told me that he's been involved in more than one conversation with other men bitching about their wives and the lack of sex in their marriages. Mr. McKay just doesn't say anything one way or the other and it always gets noticed, comments like, "Oh, nothing to add? Guess you're a lucky man," get tossed his way. And much like my cousin with the bus stop moms, he felt the need to apologize.

I know that not long ago in our society, people weren't encouraged to talk about their problems and their bad relationships. I am happy that this stigma has fallen away, I think people should be able to talk about whatever they need to talk about. I don't think a failed marriage is something that should be hidden in shame or kept a secret. But I also don't think that those of us in happy marriages should feel apologetic about it.

I'm not saying my marriage is perfect, or that my husband is perfect. We fight. We argue about dumb things and we don't see eye to eye on every single thing in life. Just this week I flew into a hangry hissy fit that he ate all of the leftover corned beef hash on me while I was at work. Sure, he made it to begin with. Sure, there was nothing else to eat in the house. But a text is all I ask for, otherwise I come home wanting to eat something that isn't there! 

See? We have problems too.

All joking aside, we love each other and we genuinely like each other. He's my favorite person and he makes me happy. 

If you ask me, I'm going to tell you. And I'm not sorry about that.

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A Very McKay St. Patrick's Day

Today happens to be St. Patrick's Day. The actual holiday. I'm not sure about your area, but in our neck of the woods towns start with the annual parades in the beginning of March.

To me it feels like a season, much like the Christmas season. March hits, the weather becomes even more unpredictable than normal here in the northeast, and spring is just around the corner. You can have snow one day and mild enough temperature to open windows the next. 

As I may have mentioned in the past, I am not a cold weather bear. I used to think summer was my favorite time of year, but more and more I think it might be this time of year. We start to shake out of the deep freeze, the daylight lingers a little later everyday, and when you step outside you can smell the weather beginning to change.

I don't mind the rain and the slush when I start to see the buds sprouting on the trees. Watch out now, I almost got poetic!

(Mr. McKay just informed me that we might get snow Sunday night and suddenly I have lost all of my romanticism about this time of year.)

Enough about the weather! I want to tell you why I love St. Patrick's Day. Yes, technically it's a religious holiday, it shouldn't really be a drunken bender or an excuse to dye things green.

To me, it's the time every year that we get to gather our friends and eat and talk (and yes, even drink) without any other agenda. Christmas is busy and there is the stress of gifts. New Year's is a big giant thing that everyone needs to celebrate. Valentine's Day you're stressed about having a date—or not having a date. Thanksgiving there needs to be turkey, and most likely it's celebrated with family. 

St. Patrick's Day is no stress. You don't have to feel guilty about not calling your mom, or not picking out the perfect gift. You should unearth the one green shirt you own and come to our house hungry.

We had our first St. Patrick's day party the year we moved in. We had it on whatever day St. Patrick's Day fell on. It was a Wednesday. We invited too many people over to our too small house and we all shoved in here and played music and talked too loud and drank too much and had a great time.

We did that for a few years and then we started getting jobs we couldn't go to with hangovers. So we moved it to a Saturday in March. Since then we have gotten our menu and set-up down to a science. We still invite too many people and we never have enough chairs, but no one seems to care.

We have the best friends in the world, they always come with dessert and whiskey in tow. Mr. McKay makes corned beef. We have sandwiches and drink beer until the wee hours of the morning.

I thought I was crazy to admit it before, but secretly my favorite part of this time is making party preparations with my husband. We started throwing this party in our much leaner days. We had no business throwing a party, we were trying to buy party food when we couldn't even pay our electric bill. But somehow we always pulled it off. 

It's become almost something of a game. Mr. McKay makes at least five corned beefs. Do you know the kind of manipulations we go through to get five corned beefs? We have multiple shopper discount cards to multiple food stores and we feel a little bit like we're breaking the law. 

We went on our annual shopping trip last night armed with coupons and discount cards from my mother in law. I held the flyer in my lap that clearly stated "limit 1 per family" for this particular corned beef sale.

We made our plan before entering. "Let's walk in separately. I'll meet you back by the meat, then we'll check out separately. Meet me back here," Mr. McKay instructed.

I nodded in agreement. I don't think food stores stick to their limits so ardently, but why tempt fate?

Give us the sale and no one gets hurt.

"This must be what robbers feel like!" he added, giving me a grin.

"Are you getting a rush over swindling the corned beef sale?"

"I am a little bit. Are you?" He looks at me expectantly.

"Not really, but you're cute."

We went to two stores and got four corned beefs for a fraction of the regular price. Mr. McKay kept calling it "Our Corned Beefery Caper". I have no idea why he was calling it that but it cracked me up every time.

On the way home we stopped for ice cream, which we ate for dinner because we were already breaking all the rules, why not just go all out?

Today I'm cleaning bathrooms, which isn't all that fun. Tomorrow we'll clear the clutter and dust. And then Saturday morning we'll start moving the furniture so we can fit the maximum amount of people in our little home.

Every year our friends show up with more children. And then leave a little earlier. A sign of the times. We're all getting older—but we still have a few holdouts that don't mind polishing off the bottle of whiskey with me at 2am. I hope we still have this party every year, even when we're old and gray. By then we'll have to make it a lunch. Maybe a brunch. We could make corned beef hash! (I can still drink whiskey, right?)

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Holly Golightly~ Your Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

I love older movies and all things Audrey, so when a local theater was advertising a screening of Breakfast at Tiffany's to kick off Valentine's Day weekend, I made plans to go.

The only thing was, I didn't know why they were marketing this night as a romantic date night. I've seen the movie, dozens of times, but haven't in the past few years. I realized I hadn't re-watched the movie again, starring Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard, since I read the novel by Truman Capote.

I forgot that Hollywood changed Capote's original novella, so it does indeed play out like a romance with the Hollywood HEA and all. The book's ending is a bit more believable, but leaves you a little depressed. At least, it left me a little depressed.

On the surface, Breakfast at Tiffany's has all of the elements of your modern day rom-com. Scattered brain single girl trying to make it in the big city. A meet-cute with her new, insanely attractive neighbor. Let's pretend, just for a moment, that her crotchety upstairs neighbor, Mr. Yunioshi, isn't a horribly racist portrayal of a Japanese man played by Mickey Rooney.

Come on, Hollywood. Was this ever a good idea?

Holly Golightly is an iconic movie image. Just about everyone can recognize the poster even if you haven't seen the movie. Despite George Peppard's Paul being enamored with Holly, she's a crazy person. It's actually ill-advised that anyone get into a relationship with her. In all honesty, Holly has ever right to be as crazy as she is. She was an orphaned runaway, trying to care for her younger brother Fred when a rancher and veternarian takes them both in. Oh, and he marries her when she's fourteen, and enlists her to help in raising his four children. 

To his credit, Doc Golightly seems like a very nice man. Even if he is tracking down his child bride and trying to take her back to his ranch. He even tries to emotionally black mail her, telling her he'll throw her brother out onto the streets if she doesn't come home. Who wouldn't be a little messed up with a back story like that?

Holly and Paul are equally flawed, and aside from being neighbors in the same apartment building, they realize they lead similar lives. Paul is a writer, his older girlfriend pays for his apartment and gives him money—so she has the ability to visit whenever her husband is away. Holly makes a living as a high paid escort, she informs Paul, "Men give me fifty dollars everytime I get up to use the powder room." They're both just getting by, essentially selling themselves to make ends meet.

A glamorous life funded by other people.

They have a mutual friendship and a somewhat off-balance attraction. Paul falls in love with Holly, from her zany ways to her wounded past. Holly seems to love Paul in her own way, but she calls him Fred because he reminds her of her brother and she almost seems to be replacing Paul in her life with that of the brother she feels she abandoned.

Holly shrugs off Paul's advances and tries her hardest to land herself a rich husband (a gold digger long before Kanye was writing songs about them). Her motives are pure though, her brother Fred is getting out of the army and she needs a way to support him especially since Doc's threat of throwing him out. She longs to have her brother back again and to make amends for abandoning him. You can respect her for that.

In the book *SPOILER ALERT* (if it is even possible to spoil a book written close to 60 years ago) Paul doesn't even have a name, he's just the narrator, and he does love Holly and she doesn't return that same love. But in the end she leaves. She dumps her cat in the alley, "We belong to nobody and nobody belongs to us. We don't even belong to each other." And she's off, leaving the narrator to wonder what became of her.

In the movie, it all clicks for Holly when Paul tells her she's afraid of letting someone love her. They retrieve the cat from the rain in the alley way and they share a big romantic Hollywood kiss right there on the New York City sidewalk. Because even though Holly's mantra this entire time has been that no man can keep her, Paul has convinced her in the span of thirty seconds that he can.

And I'm supposed to believe they lived happily ever after? Neither of them even have any skills! How are they going to support themselves? They're both used to the finer things in life which have been provided for them by their richer and older lovers. This relationship has doom written all over it. It's certainly ending with Paul's clothes scattered all over the fire escape as Holly dumps them out the window, throwing him out of her apartment and out of her life before she leaves on her quest to find herself a rich man again.

Even if I found the ending to the book slightly depressing with Holly disappearing into the ether, I at least had the small fraction of hope that she was working through her shit and maybe getting her life together.

You can't fix her, Paul. Let her work her life out without butting in. As a matter of fact, maybe you should examine your own life and stop trying to fix other people.

This all might sound like I hate this movie and I'm telling you not to watch it. That's not at all what I'm saying. It's one of my favorite movies and if you get the chance to watch it, please do, it's full of interesting characters and great actors. But maybe read the book after your done watching and see if you don't agree with me.

As for Holly Golightly and her iconic look? Definitely emulate it all you want, she nailed the little black dress before it was a thing. But don't try to be like Holly Golightly, she's the original crazy ex-girlfriend and no one needs that in their life.

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A to Z Challenge~ Tiffs, Teasing and Threats

We're coming up to the end of the Spanking from A-Z blog challenge, hosted by Celeste Jones and Spanking Romance Reviews.

Up to T today and I am talking about teasing and threats.  We don't do serious very well in the McKay house. Actually, I think both of us have an inability to be completely serious for any length of time.

Sometimes not being able to be serious has it's advantages. We don't really argue. We get into tiffs, stupid things that children would fight about. Lately, it's had to do with my injury. I try to do more than I can do and I get snippy when I get frustrated or feel like I'm being doted on or smothered.

We were having a back and forth and I was being snappish. Mr. McKay was bringing me my coffee and we were getting to a real boiling point. Then he put the mug down in front of me, raised his eyebrows and said, "Maybe next time I'll pee in your coffee."

I burst out laughing. Who says that to someone? I asked him if he was a child, and he said probably. But really he was just diffusing the situation. We moved on and everything was fine.

So it is nice sometimes to not take everything so seriously. Other times it works against us. Mr. McKay actually sent me the following cartoon because this probably does sum up our bedroom antics. It's why there is normally copious amounts of liquor and not much talking during sexy time.

http://www.collegehumor.com/post/7023086/how-every-sexual-fantasy-would-actually-go

Teasing is a big part of our relationship too. Mostly because I will believe anything and I take everything to heart. Mr. McKay loves getting a rise out of me and I do love it, even if I like to spin off in a huff when he's relentlessly teasing.

I think threats go hand in hand with teasing. Any spanko worth their salt likes a good threat. I mean, at least for me, it's connected to all of it. So when Mr. McKay says anything like "You better watch yourself," or "You're not going to like the spanking you get." I am all a flutter, but then he follows it up with, "It's going to be so weak, and not hard. You'll hate it." And there goes that teasing and I am caught between laughing and getting into a snit because he totally just wrecked my mojo.

My ankle needs to heal and quick. I've been threatened so many times with weak spankings and no spanking at all that I'm ready to cry.

Thankfully, I do think he's teasing and isn't really serious. I think...


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The Thing About Spanking

The thing about being married (maybe not even married, but a long term relationship), sometimes we schedule sex. I'm not talking like 9:45 every Tuesday or something, but sometimes we just make sure we are on the same page. Life is busy, we're always running somewhere and sometimes our needs are not lined up with our time allotment. 

So this weekend we scheduled some sexy time, it is not uncommon around these parts, and I don't feel like it's a bad thing, what's so wrong about being on the same schedule?

The thing is, yes, I was horny. But I will share a secret with all of you, I masturbate a lot. I mean, I guess it's subjective what "a lot" is, but in speaking with friends (even my online kinky friends) it may be more than the average person. I would call it a hazard of the trade— writing sexy things and reading sexy things, but I have always been this way.

Once we moved in together and I was having sex on the regular, you know, we were no longer sneaking around catching stolen moments— I realized masturbating became a lot less fulfilling. I told Mr. McKay he ruined me. Jokingly of course, because really, I could still achieve orgasm on my own, it just seemed very... blah.

Maybe it's the predictability. I know exactly what to do and how to do it, so I just do it, there is no anticipation, no guessing or excitement.

Needless to say, I much prefer the release I get when I orgasm with my husband. It is nice to have someone to hold you afterwards. Give you a cuddle. Tell you you're pretty. Or that he likes your tits (hey, it always gets me to smile).

But I have been starting to wonder if the reason why sometimes my masturbatory orgasms seem unfulfilling is because I am not really just wanting an orgasm. I am craving something else. Sometimes I think I just need to be spanked and my brain mis-fires and thinks I am horny.

It's a frustrating realization. And one you cannot fix on your own.

But in came the scheduled sexy time. We were planning on some spontaneous sex (yes, you read that right, and sure, it is such a thing— a planned spontaneous affair), but then we put it off too long and both got sleepy. Apparently that happens when you're old. So we both decided tomorrow, tomorrow is our night! First things first, before dinner, before drinks, before we can get full or sleepy or disinterested.

So we did, we got to it! Mr. McKay always takes care of me first, so I came and with gusto. It was dark in the room, which disappointed me a little because how could he see to spank me? He still did, sharp smacks as I straddled him. We were kissing and fondling, there were fingers and tongues and moans in the darkness. All the while he was smacking me. A smattering of smacks. It was a nice sting, but then things progressed, we moved onto the main event. There were fingers in places and double penetration and I am not sorry to say I had a mind numbing orgasm. 

We lay in the dark, my head on his chest. Light touches and giggles. Someone's stomach growls (maybe mine, but I will not admit to anything) and Mr. McKay tells me he will cooks us some dinner. But the thing is. I am not done. And I start to feel guilty, but I am not as sated and relieved as I should be. And why aren't I? Something is wrong with me, right?

Will he think I am a needy annoyance? Will he sigh and begrudgingly comply with my demands? I don't want that. I don't want to need this. But the thing is I had been building up the spanking in my head. I was worked up for it. I was ready. And then it was... lacking. It was still there and I should be happy for that, right?

So there in the dark I utter, "I just..." and then my nerve is lost. Why did I start? Ugh, I want the floor to swallow me.

"You just, what?" he asks.

"Nothing, nothing, nevermind."

I guess when you start something and then stop and admit you are scared to say, you freak out your partner a bit. So now I feel guilty that he thinks I was going to confess some sort of life altering confession. It should be old hat by now. I need to be spanked.

"Well, the things is. I just. Maybe we could... uh, I just wanted more. Spanking. You know?"

"Okay," he laughs. "Is that all?" The lights flip on. "You scared me. But this? This I can handle." He motions me to the end of the bed and picks up the cane leaning against the wall. 

"Oh, we're using that?"

"Yeah we are. You want something more? I got it!" He smiles at me, and really, how the hell did I get so lucky?

I'm gasping and squirming by the time he is finished. I have neat lines of stripes and don't even feel funny about looking at them in the mirror with him standing there. "I feel better. I needed this," I say.

He smiles again and tells me he's going to make dinner.

Over dinner we talk about the night and he admits that he was worried when I got so nervous when we were upstairs. Why would I be nervous about telling him that? I joke around that maybe he was scared I wanted to try pegging or something. He admits that crossed his mind, and something like that would scare him. But tells me if I felt that strongly about trying it, then he would. For me. Because he loves me.

I am not ashamed to admit I teared up. Some girls get jewelry. I got a man not afraid to dip into the kinky side of life, even if it freaks him out a bit.

For that I am grateful.

I hope everyone had a great weekend! Do you get the Baronet Press newsletter? Sign up today! Our free story for April is coming out later today (yes, I know it's May, but better late than never- and now you will get two in one month!). Click here to sign up and it will be sent to your inbox later today!

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Food Love~ The Relationship Between Food, Love, and Psychology?

I may have mentioned before that my fabulous husband formats all my books for me. He won't read them, but he formats them, so I guess he catches the stray word here and there.

He was formatting Call Me Yours for me and was like- Why the hell are you writing about meatballs? I just shook my head and laughed, it was one part and I thought it was weird he picked that up.

A little while later he goes- Mmm, bagels. We should get some bagels.

I look up, remembering that later in my book my character is eating a bagel.

I realized my characters eat a lot. More than the average author? I don't know. Perhaps I am just a food-centric individual.

I actually read a vampire series by Chloe Neill called Chicagoland Vampires. This is probably my favorite current book series and the main character in them is always eating and loves food. The author is constantly referencing local Chicago cuisine and favorite street food. So much so that it makes me hungry when I read them and it also makes me want to visit Chicago. (The eating is all between kick ass vampire fighting and sexual tension- but even vamps gotta eat.)

A lot of the foods in my books fall into the comfort food category. It would make sense when I am writing a romance novel about people falling in love that they would be sharing/cooking some comfort food dishes.

Cooking can be a very intimate experience to share together. Well, I view it as intimate because of the size of our kitchen. You can't open our refrigerator if someone is standing in front of the sink.

But the thing is- there is something about chopping up salad fixings at the counter while my husband cooks something at the stove beside me. It makes my heart smile, it makes me happy that we both appreciate each other enough to want to share a nice meal together.

Even if you aren't as much of a food lover as I am, the fact of the matter is, we need to eat! Anyone remember Psych 101?

Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs? (I know, you're all like, I clicked this link to read about sex and now she's all talking about psychology- just stick with me a second.)

www.simplypsychology.org

Eating is a physiological need that needs to be met before you can move up in the hierarchy and get to higher level stuff like social interactions- including and not limited to romantic relationships.

The whole tried and true typical date night scenario of dinner and a movie actually fulfills two levels of Maslow's Hierarchy. First, filling a physiological need of eating and then giving/getting safety from your date when you snuggle in close and hide your eyes during all the scary parts of the movie. 

Maslow probably wasn't thinking about love and dating when he came up with his theory, but it still fits.

Also, in looking at this again (I had to reference something- it's been a while since college) don't think I failed to notice that sex is a full two levels below romantic relationships/intimacy.

Just some food for thought...

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Nerds Do It With Research

I am currently toiling away at the sequel to Emmaline's Groom- the second in The Ravenswood Manor Series.

This is my first time at trying my hand at a series and I am feeling a little bit like I painted myself into a corner. Not too much, because I had in mind from the beginning that this would be a series, but stuff I did not take into account has taken up a lot of time and research.

I gave Emmaline a hopelessly-in-love brother, Wesley. He serves as a catalyst for getting Emmaline to admit her true feelings for Leo and for them ending up together.

I made him heartbroken, he had fallen in love with a married woman, and then we learn she is pregnant.

So my story line for Wesley had to begin with him either moving on past this woman I had him so hopelessly in love with- or navigating a very modern day situation in the Victorian era.

Thus began my hours of research. Then my research about Victorian era marriage laws and divorce starting leading to other research based on little bread crumbs I found in this research. (Does anyone else get themselves stuck on Wikipedia threads for hours on end?)

I have Wesley's story about a third of the way written. I am also up on all my Victorian marriage and divorces, the end of the century bicycling craze, as well as underwear of that time.

Every night when my husband and I catch up about our day at dinner, I tell him all about my research. I think my nerdiness turns him on a little. Which would make sense- he fell in love with me before being nerdy was cool.

I think its the same as when he starts telling me about some new recipe he wants to make me. He gets so passionate and excited in his descriptions that it turns me on a little. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be married to Bobby Flay?

Either way, we have been sharing links and having rousing discussions about the Victorian era for so many months now, it has become our norm.

It makes me wonder what the hell we talked about before.

Anyway, I am off to get back to writing, or researching. I will leave you with this part from Emmaline's Groom, where we first meet Wesley:

“I am not a baby anymore, Wesley,” she retorted and snatched the flask back from his hands, taking another drink before he had the chance to catch up.

“I can see that,” he answered, taking the flask back and tucking it to his side and out of her reach. “You were never a baby, even when you were. What has you tied up in knots?”

Her eyes burned with the remainder of her unshed tears. She would not cry in front of Wesley. He could seem sincere, but he had been her resident tormenter her entire life, she doubted much had changed. When she did not answer his question, he slipped an arm around her shoulders. She had begun to shiver as the damp, cold ground seeped into the seat of her pants. Now his arm around her made her warm, or it was further effects from the liquor. She allowed herself to lean her head on his shoulder.

“Have you ever been in love?” The question slipped past her lips and she braced herself for his ridicule.

Wesley made a rueful sound and took up the flask again. He took a healthy drink and passed it back to her with a nod.

“Doubt thou the stars are fire

Doubt that the sun doth move

Doubt truth to be a liar

But never doubt I love.” He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Emma let her mouth hang open as she stared back at him. “Are you quoting Shakespeare?” She let out a braying laugh as she brought the flask back to her mouth. The liquid had just breached her lips when he snatched it away from her, causing the alcohol to spill down the front of her.

“I am baring my soul and you laugh at me?” He threw his hands up in the air.

She could not decide if he was serious or pulling her leg. She also wondered how much he had drank before she came upon him.

“Does this have something to do with Lady Trimble? I heard she is expecting.” She ventured a guess, based on town gossip and the bits she heard from the staff.

“Ah, my dearest Lena,” he said with a sigh.

That confirmed her suspicions about Wesley being Lady Trimble's paramour before he fled to America. Not that she could blame Lady Trimble, the gossip in her social circles was that her husband was a social climber who blackmailed Lena into marriage. But she had the urge to defend her brother against this woman who took his love and broke his heart.

Emmaline's Groom is on sale now!

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