So, I figured I try making a holiday video.  And what better way than to put Tony, Debbie, Stephanie and Brandie in it?  I mean, you should always put the people who know where to find you in silly videos on the internet!    Happy Holidays, everyone.  🙂

It occurred to me earlier today that I was a clutz.  Well, I kind of knew it, but sometimes we deny certain things about ourselves.  When I dropped my computer mouse in my coffee an hour ago – there was no more denial.  I liked that mouse.

For some reason I flashed back to childhood when my mom taught me to read.  Well, she taught me to love reading and getting lost in a good story.  Being the wise woman she still is, she might’ve been trying to save my limbs from disaster.  I still remember the first Nancy Drew book she put in my hands while I sat safely on the sofa surrounded by nice, soft pillows.  If I fell, no harm done. 

As I grew up, I used to sneak into her romance pile and read those wonderful love stories.  Sometimes I still feel like I’m getting away with something when I find myself lost in a steamy romance.  Then the day came when I was old enough we could pass books back and forth.  She gave me one of Nora Robert’s MacGregor stories – and I was hooked for life.  Remember those?

And now, my mom has read my book.  I asked her if she thought it was too steamy and she said that it was wonderful.  Then she said, “Oh my.”  🙂  So here’s to our moms:  When they ensured we survive childhood, they may also have given us the key to a happy adulthood.  Thanks, mom.

So question: Who taught you to read and what book do you most remember?

I have fantastic parents who are still together after more than forty years of marriage.  And my dad wants to read my book.  Of course he wants to read my book – he’s my dad.  But…there’s sex in my book.  And not the closed-door, see ya in the morning kind.  My hero’s a vampire – the guy bites.

It brings to mind the one sex talk my dad and I had – sometime in high school when a girl in my class became pregnant.  My dad and I stood swinging nine-irons on the practice green behind our house.  It went like this:

DAD:  WHACK.  He hit to the green.  “So, I heard so and so was pregnant.”

ME:  Slice.  I hit the nearest tree.  “Yeah, I heard that, too.”

DAD:  Whack.  He put it right next to the hole.  “Follow through and roll your wrists.  Do we need to talk about it?”

ME:  Smack.  Closer to the green.  “No.  I need a new glove.”

DAD:  Whack.  In the hole.  “No.  You need to break your wrists faster.  So, about sex…”  Whack.  Dad hit the tree.

ME: Whiff.  I missed the ball completely.  “Not interested in sex.”  And believe it or not, I wasn’t.  I loved high school and my home town.  But I knew my freshman year in college would occur at a school on the beach, and no way was I missing out on that.

DAD:  Whack.  Who knew?  There was a sandtrap just beyond the practice green.  “Well, sex is your business.”  His voice kinda cracked here.  “But if you get pregnant, it becomes my business.  Point your left toe toward the pin more.”

ME:  “Okay.”  I rolled my wrists, broke them in time and pointed my toe toward the pin.  The ball rolled to within an inch of the hole.  “Nothing to worry about, Dad.”

DAD:  He blew out a breath and then hit the tree again.  “Good talk.  Want to get breakfast?”

So, I figure my dad’s been around a bit and knows that vampires bite.  Anyway, he’s promised me he’ll skim FATED’S  spicy parts.  🙂