WINNING VIRGIN PROMISES

Copyright © 2009

Chapter One

Constance waltzed into the Sabbat-owned club like she owned it. She might as well act the part. The Sabbat family made Agendas their home base and when it suited her, she wore the name Sabbat almost as proudly as she held fast to her Spenser birthright.

Smiling big, she flicked her wrist, offered a wave, and provided a verbal greeting or two. The bodyguards tripped over their own feet to hold the door open for her. They looked like bouncers, but they were in fact, Darian’s men.

Constance pushed her dark curls over her shoulders before shooting one of them a wink. “Better let him know I’m here and make sure you tell my brother-in-law I’m lethal tonight.”

The large man with ugly scars across his cheeks and chin, grinned. “I’ll follow your request.”

“I don’t doubt it for a minute. It’s why I suggested it.” She wanted to curse him under her breath for valid reasons. She bet whatever cash she carried in her purse that many of the men on Darian’s payroll knew of her father’s precise whereabouts.

Samuel Spenser, many believed, departed the world years ago. Constance and her brothers never stopped searching and since they had unlimited resources, they never would.

Most considered the Spensers vampire royalty, at least those who understood myths and followed legends. Reality crossed somewhere in the middle.

Constance thought of herself as a member of a new race. It beat the hell out of what mortals thought. Those who believed in vampires at all feared them and with good reason. They held an extreme power, a license to kill and get away with it.

She walked through the mirrored hallway and the display of laser-crossfire, the latest in security features for the more paranoid of the Sabbats. The oldest and the most dangerous of the lot, Darian, didn’t take unnecessary risks. When someone entered one of his clubs, he knew in an instant if mortals joined them or bloodsuckers were among them. Some of the poor, unsuspecting women who paraded through his doors in search of a good time instantly became bait once they walked through the check-point.

Constance stepped into the heart of Agendas and everyone recognized her. Heads turned and a few men here or there made the mistake of whistling. If Sebastian were around—her life mate—or maybe even Gabriel, the signal alone would lead to another man’s death call.

She took a quick spin around the room after she crossed over the threshold because if she made an appearance there, she might as well make sure everyone in Edinburgh knew it. She copped the kind of strut to make grown men twitch and vampire elders uncomfortable in their robes, if they even wore them. At times, Constance wondered if those on the panel did anything more than sit around and play with themselves all day, a decision she reached after observing the perverse orders they often handed down to their young.

She scanned the dimly lit dance floor and noticed some recognizable faces, one in particular. After she spotted him, she didn’t waste time moving toward him without so much as a break in her stride.

Darian headed up the Sabbat family and conducted most of his business from Agendas. He was the Sabbat she wanted to talk to most, but with her fast approach, she quickly observed his body language. He cautioned against the sudden advance when he turned his back and squared his shoulders. The Sabbats, much like the Spensers, never wanted their enemies to meet their women.

If the man in front of Darian was an enemy, she’d hate to see his friends. A mortal, no doubt, he looked good enough to eat and swallow with one delectable bite. Broad shoulders, tight chest, high cheekbones, lovely lips, and ..Constance.. couldn’t stand it. She had to see the rest.

She hurriedly scooted around the room so she could steal an even better peek. Sure as hell, right there in front of her, her suspicions materialized. He had one fine-looking ass. Best of all, she thought as she inhaled his scent, he was mortal, as she’d suspected. Life sugar-coated in blood-red sweetness.

Darian shot her a quick glance and his face tensed. The man quickly caught on and understood there was something or someone behind him and he turned around. By the time he did, Constance had moved onto the floor and unleashed a sexy little spin with her hips and arms draping around the first Dom she saw. Fortunately, he was a regular, so she didn’t put him at risk. He never paid her the first moment of attention and lucky for him, kept his hands to himself.

Evidently, Darian’s dirty deals reached far beyond their immortal world and when they did, he sought his equal on the other side. She watched him from the padded rail encasing the dance floor. She tried to do it without catching the gaze of the flesh hunk negotiating with Satan—yeah, Darian held a strong resemblance to the evil down under tonight. His whole body appeared rigid as he worked his way through the throes of an unpleasant discussion. She saw his arm flex forward and at one time, he placed his hand on the mortal’s shoulder.

Constance understood Darian’s unspoken signal. He marked him for a dead man walking if he stepped out of line. ..Constance.. glanced around the room and watched the flash of recognition as Darian’s crew moved closer. They slumped in the shadows, but lurked close enough to see their human target.

A shame, she thought, before she returned her focus to some of the other patrons. A death wish or two lingered in the air. The Doms of the club, the men who clung tight to their well earned position and the power it brought them, immediately eyed her with curiosity. Most of the regulars knew she belonged to a Sabbat, but she didn’t wear a collar to indicate her taken status. Those who looked for something more significant often stared.

Some of the Doms glared with new hunger and several with dark desire. Those were the men who grabbed her attention. They were the type who deserved it, kind of like the mortal who undoubtedly held a similar interest in her. His lips curved in a saucy invitation and he gave one of his guards a quick nudge.

“Uh-oh,” she muttered. “You’re bled dry now, buddy.”

Darian immediately turned around. Quick as lightening, he flashed his elongated teeth. If anyone saw, they might take a double take, but the gesture was private enough for Constance to understand.

She watched the man lean forward and nod in her direction. He was interested and moving toward his demise quicker by the second…definitely marked as a goner now.

Too bad, she was starting to like him, too. She decided to leave him alone. She wasn’t one to form attachments with mortals. They never lived long enough to suit her and any human dealings with Darian guaranteed a shorter life expectancy.

Constance shrugged and looked away. If Darian wanted to conduct the longest business meeting in history, she wouldn’t complain. She enjoyed everything about Agendas and didn’t need her brother-in-law’s attention in order to have a good time. From the music to the patrons who never found enough regardless of what they were after, the club offered something for everyone.

Usually, those with eclectic tastes found their thrills in Darian’s clubs. With the openly viewed sex acts in semi-public rooms, the Sabbat bars were well known around the world. Additionally, Darian’s staff took pride in providing the best drinks in ..Scotland.., and thanks to wide-spread media attention on occasion, many gained notoriety by patronizing the best club in all of ..Europe... Actors and actresses from around the globe frequented Agendas, but more notorious than the famous were the vampires that gathered there. The rumors around Edinburgh indicated it no longer hailed as the best kept secret.

Constance  dressed the part of a seductive vixen and it was one of the reasons she enjoyed stepping out. She didn’t have to go to the Sabbat clubs under false pretenses. In fact, she slipped into whatever role she wanted to play most whenever she visited.

For the night and the scene crowd, she fit in rather well. A red mini-skirt didn’t deserve classification as a short dress and her lace stockings led to the black pearl suspender clips just begging for a snappy release. Her shirt, if she really had one on at all, carried the weight of her chest but barely covered it in a halter-top design. The silk felt smooth against her skin and it proved to motivate her more with the constant reminder. She knew she looked damn fine. Hot enough to draw the devil’s brother out of hell and he would show his face. She was betting on it.

If Sebastian and her brothers were in town, they’d roar with rage. She dressed for the lifestyle when she left the confines of Spenser walls. With her vampire mate in the States, she decided to go on a search for answers. She knew which Sabbat brother she needed to see in order to find them.

Casually, she paced in front of the sidebar. Her fingertips ran over the smooth texture of the wood rim before her palm settled on the granite top. She stretched up and down on her tiptoes knowing if anyone watched—and they did—what her legs stopped short of showcasing. She impatiently narrowed her eyes in Darian’s direction. With a smug, somewhat forced smile, she turned around to see what décor changes spruced up the place since her last visit.

Nothing stood out as different. Maybe she was the most significant improvement there, and she liked to think of herself as a different woman. A year earlier when she first entered the doors of Agendas, she was twenty-one and looking for trouble. She found it. In her opinion, it jumped out and more or less saved her from herself, but trouble was a package deal. Something she didn’t realize when she first landed in bed with Sebastian Sabbat.

“Hey, Constance," One of Darian’s favorite girls approached her. “How’s my pet Sabbat?”

“Bored,” she complained. “How are you? It’s nice to see Darian is letting you work the tables.”

She grinned and batted her eyelashes Constance caught her drift. She serviced more than the front of the house customers. Poor thing probably thought she hit the big leagues when she hopped into Darian’s bed.

Darian’s business meeting wasn’t one she’d interrupt, even though she thought about it just so she could flirt with someone with meat in his pants and blood in his veins. Since Darian turned his back to her when he first spotted her, the men he spoke to were undoubtedly dangerous—perhaps even the kind of people who would love to have a Sabbat in their arms for negotiating power. No doubt about it, the leader of the trio had a certain fascination with her.

“Tell me something,” she asked Darian’s new cocktail of the month. “Who’s the guy with Darian?”

The gal laughed. “Did Sebastian’s short chain hit a snag somewhere?”

“No! Of course not,” she exclaimed, sighing in regret. “I guess I can’t inquire about strangers here, huh?”

“Not when they look like him!” She turned around and enjoyed the view too. “You should see his ass.”

The ass was the problem. The main reason she inquired further in the first place.

“Listen, Constance, Darian didn’t even want me around them. He’ll have a fit if you go anywhere near them right now. Whoever he is, Darian and his men prepared for him several hours prior to his arrival. They frisked all of those guys coming in. If I were you, I’d disappear until they’re gone.”

Disappear? Not a chance. She realized she toyed with an impossible situation, but she couldn’t resist flirting with the forbidden. Most of Sabbat’s enemies searched for a weakness because there were very few. It would only sweeten the pot if they discovered she was the daughter of the most notorious vampire in the world. The Spensers carried clout. The Sabbats collected enemies.

After glancing at her watch, she noticed she’d waited for over thirty minutes. She decided she should’ve walked up and demanded his undivided attention. She also realized her impatience had nothing to do with Darian and everything to do with his younger brother. Sure, she wanted to talk to Darian, but she could’ve arranged a meeting place outside of Agendas or she could’ve visited the Sabbat compound. No, she was there for something more.

Her ulterior motives for the visit and the ambiance of the club invited her to stay and enjoy her new freedom. With any luck, her second reason would soon show his handsome face.

The music blared with an assorted mix of some of her favorite artists. Since she’d been marked as Sebastian’s life mate, he’d insisted she stay out of the clubs unless he had her in hand. After a joining, it was pretty much expected for the vampire brides to stay out of sight. An elder or two who mismanaged his own life apparently put such an order in place.

Constance watched a few people dance and she searched for a competent partner. One who would show her a nice time on the dance floor but looked smart enough to let her walk off without expectations. It only took her a moment to rethink those sentiments. She decided if she danced, she would do any potential partner a favor by dancing alone.

Another visual sweep around the club and a quick peep at Darian and what the hell, since she found her way there, and Sebastian’s brother didn’t seem to have time for her, why not? Maybe Darian didn’t have a free second, but she knew one brother who would find several. If Gabriel discovered her there, he’d show her some attention.

She braced her palms behind her and arched her back. Who cared anyway? Of course they’d tell Sebastian she stopped by and she partied a little. So what? She stretched her arms over her head before she made it to the crowded hub where the bodies in motion removed all inhibitions.

She stepped out to the center of the floor and let the music sway over her. If they scolded her later, she’d complain her torso and limbs simply followed rules of their own—a specific agenda, perhaps—and did they ever.

The beats of a drastic force pumped through her veins with enough inspiration. Her arms dropped to her sides and her provocative moves turned every Dom-head in the club as she ran her fingertips up and down her hips.

By the time her body jump-started every twitching dick in the room, several men headed to the private suites for a piece of ass that would never satisfy. The piercing gazes from most of them proved it as one or two of them grabbed a prospect and started for the back wall.

Ah, yeah, she still had it. They all still wanted it.

If anything, the year she’d spent with Sebastian only prepared her for moments like these. His training helped her stay in tune with her body.

New music and retro tunes filled the area and with it came awareness. She bounced over to the rail, placed her hands on the side and worked out every twist and turn she had before she returned to the center. Seemingly, every man in the room followed her ass. She felt their eyes on her and craved even more. She wanted them to feel her even if they never touched her.

Sebastian would bite cement in half if he saw her. The music easily reminded her of him. Gerard McMann’s Cry Little Sister—their song—blared through the speakers. She missed her mate enough to stop dancing for a moment and considered leaving the club.

Sebastian would be more than a little upset once he received word. She really didn’t want to anger him because he knew how to punish her. He withheld the one thing she couldn’t live without—himself. He was a remarkable lover and she was completely devoted to him with an exception. She seldom allowed herself the opportunity to think about her weakness, but Gabriel Sabbat, her secondary feeder, was definitely it.

She closed her eyes and thought of Gabriel. It felt good to allow the rare indulgence. After Gabriel came to mind, he came to veins almost as quickly and once he did, she truly burned for him. The source of a damning pain, she cursed herself and then him. That’s when she realized why thoughts of him rushed in and surrounded her all at once.

She felt him there and her body tensed. She gripped her stomach before she doubled over in pain. Resisting it, fighting against it, her hand went to her neck then, too. Sebastian had been gone three days and she defiantly refused the supplements the family caretaker set out as an alternative blood source. She didn’t want to drink gunk. She wanted to go with Sebastian when he traveled, so he could supply her with what she needed. Now, with another secondary source nearby, her craving for nourishment became almost unbearable.

“Where are you, lover?” she asked, whispering.

She looked up at the eyes in the sky, and realized he watched. She thought of a distant day, an earlier time, and another brother.

She once lured Sebastian away from one of their control rooms. She felt confident she had what it took to bring out his brother. She smirked and then twisted off the urge to taunt him more. Well, for a second maybe, then her natural instincts kicked her ass and she let her body unwind just for him.

* * * *

Gabriel sat back in an executive recliner glaring at the monitors. He rolled the chair forward and hit one button after another until he had her right where he wanted her, in plain focus and larger than life.

He’d been notified when she walked into the club because she wasn’t supposed to be there. Sebastian made a point to let everyone know it. After he took the effort, Gabriel fully expected to see the defiant little wench. He knew his little brother’s absence was reason enough for her to come looking for him, searching for him where she realized she would inevitably find him. He wondered why Sebastian didn’t take Constance with him.

A seductress at heart, the little siren moved like silk sliding on butter as she floated around the room. Twice, she doubled over with a throbbing ache. He watched her curiously as he tried to figure out what to do next.

“Do you know I’m the only cure for your kind of pain, doll?” he asked aloud. “You know the stabbing sensation you feel is for me, don’t you?” He scratched his chin but not his itch. The prickling up and down his spine had a name—Constance Spenser.

Please note some of the excerpts posted are flawed after formatting to MySpace. You will not find these in the books purchased.

www.bookstrand.com/authors/DestinyBlaine
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Marriage is like a bar of chocolate

I just hung up the phone. Again. Seems when I go out of town and come back home, I always have a full voice mailbox. Keep in mind, I have many regular callers—three brothers and a sister, several aunts, a doting father who I don't talk to nearly enough and a mother who called several times to tell me she found someone who would like to have my furniture.

The messages I received from my mother were almost as great as the one I mention below because Mom found someone who wanted my old furniture. She called to let me know that they wanted to be sure the furniture was indeed free and they also wanted to know if I could deliver it to them too. Sure Mom. I'll get right on that. Right after I bench press five hundred pounds or so.  

This was the weekend for phenomenal messages and they were wide ranging. From the ordinary to the outlandish, I heard from everyone in one weekend. Okay, so Brad Pitt didn't call, or Johnny Depp, but they will. I just know it.

I didn't want for surprising, if not entertaining, messages. In fact, a friend of mine from "way back" as we sometimes say here in the south called to tell me that she "hated" being married. I know, imagine such a thought. Puh-lease!

Okay, so can I see a show of hands out there? Who knows what this woman is feeling? Sure, if you've been married for longer than twenty minutes, you qualify. If you married in Vegas after a drunken stupor, then you definitely feel her pain. Raise that arm high. In my humble opinion, after a few days with the same man, on occasion there is a fine line between love and hate. With hate being the stronger of the two when things don't go my way. Sorry honey, but after 17 years, you kind of expected me to feel this way—right?

In any event, she wanted to let me know that first of all, her mother-in-law was a (as she put it) "bee-atch" and if she'd "only been forewarned", she would've never looked at her husband in a "zillion" years. She even went as far as too say the "D" word loomed and if she ever broke the ties that "bind" that she would intentionally go through a dating service the next time around. She would find one where women were given an opportunity to meet their potential in-laws before they met the man in question.

The "second of all" comment followed thereafter and it was loaded with misguided blame. "Someone should've told me…you should've told me…that marriage wasn't what it's cracked up to be."

Her entire message took three "slots" to complete because the voice mail would cut off and she would call back to continue her rant. Each time she called, her words of fast wisdom left me with a few more laughs. By the time the third message sounded off, it was safe to say I was ROFL, yes that's text-language mumbo-jumbo for rolling on the floor. Teary-eyed and all, I had a good laugh.

By the time I waded through a little more voicemail hell, I heard my friend's voice again. This time, it was softer and held an edge of mysterious humor in it.  She said, "I just wanted to let you know that I talked to my father-in-law. He talked to my mother-in-law who has reached the decision that she is never going to talk to me again. Call me. This is good."

So, I called. In fact, I couldn't dial the number fast enough.

She sighed as soon as she heard my voice. "Yes, I hate marriage. I hate being married and I'm glad you were out of town because this is something I needed to work through on my own. You know, stand on my own two feet. Accept my fate as I determined it and take the good with the bad."

I knew what she meant. The good was the mind-boggling oogled-eyed sex she often chatted about and the bad was the "bee-atch" that she definitely knew well before she said "I do" but I didn't remind her of the obvious. Instead, I agreed with a "Yes, Well, I'm glad I was able to help you out."

My friend wasn't amused. "This isn't a laughing matter. This has been a very rough weekend for me. I was ready for a divorce and you didn't answer your phone, my brother said he'd win a bet if I divorced within twenty-four months so he offered very little help and that left only one option."

I couldn't wait to hear the lone choice.

"So I talked to my father-in-law. He reminded me that the grass is always greener on the other side but in marriages, any marriage, you have to look at the person you marry as just another nut waiting to be cracked."

I told her I didn't quite get it. The joke or whatever point she wanted to make just didn't quite "nudge me silly", or "get my goose," if you know what I mean.  

She continued. "Well, you see, my husband's father was married several times before he settled down to raise a family with wife number five. He said, after trying it five times, and reading everything ever written on marriage and relationships, he felt he was ready for the life commitment.

You know, the one that didn't include divorce.

He started off marriage number five by visiting countless marriage counselors. He also explained before he did, he sought and received information about living a celibate life. Now, he prefers literature about Viagra—though my friend doesn't understand why given his choice partner. Still, he said a long time ago, he decided marriage was a lot like chocolate. You love it when you bite in, but after you chew, swallow, and digest, the extra weight isn't always worth that first sweet bite."

My friend went on to say that there was a moral to the story and after typing this, I clearly understood. "If marriage comes with marriage counselors, books about happy relationships, Viagra literature which is obviously a good indicator there are certain issues to be addressed (when the only trouble is truly the partner), and a celibate-life consideration, then it's safe to say that marriages often are like a bar of chocolate…just full of nuts!"

Fortunately, this week, my friend stays dedicated to her vows and is much happier with the choices she made in a mate. Her mother-in-law still isn't speaking to her but that's okay because she understands better now. After all, she considers her a true pecan or maybe she referred to her as a walnut but it's not that important. After all, a nut is a nut, anyway you crack it. My friend's father-in-law thinks she hung the moon and her husband thinks his father is right…my friend is a lot like chocolate. After all, when my friend told her husband the story, the first thing he told her was the obvious. "And you think this is the first time I've heard this tale? Not quite peanut. Not quite."

Just something to blog (think) about: 

I have a question for authors and publishers out there. Editors and readers, feel free to hop in with your opinions too. I recently heard from another author who feels like simultaneous submissions are more or less "rude" because they are stating that you are in a hurry to find a home for your work. So, I'm curious. What do you think?

The truth is, I didn't make it my standard practice to put out simultaneous submissions. At least, not at first. Then, I went through starting over again. True, I pulled my books and stories from a publisher just days before the publisher closing but I more or less was caught up in the current because I had a lot of titles there in the first place. This was last summer and I still don't have all of those manuscripts back in circulation (in part, because of my own decisions).

When I began to "start over" with placing my books and novellas somewhere else, it made me stop and realize what I didn't have out there working for me so I looked for places to simultaneously submit. Now, I still do it. However, the novellas or novels I'm sending out on a simultaneous submission are more or less the exception and not the rule. For instance, right now I have a story submitted several places as a simultaneous submission but it is for a particular reason.

The "reason" this manuscript was sent out in "volume" was because of the nature of the story and a print marketing campaign I want to do for it this summer. Typically, that wouldn't place me on a rush status but I thought of a cheap way to advertise the story in print venues so yes, I'm excited about it and I did a "blast" of submissions. Okay, not really a blast but several submissions and queries went out.  

My question today is really two-fold. What do you think about simultaneous submissions and what publishers do you know that willingly accept them? Yes, I want to send them my blast-submissions. Okay, yes I am kidding (remember, I rely on Piers Anthony or Preditors and Editors for suggestions).

Wait! There's still more. I have another question. Publishers, if you don't accept simultaneous submissions, why? I'm curious.

Until next time, keep it sexy!

Destiny

This week I kicked out some writing! Yes, it's true. I'm officially a workaholic according to my teenage son. Whew, I'm glad he thinks so. This may mean I'm too busy for laundry.

Seriously though, I've churned out some new work, padded down my emails with queries and a synopsis here or there and waved good-bye. It felt pretty good. There's still work piling up and never mind edits but five submissions went out the door.

Yes, I did say FIVE!!!! The reason so many? One was previously published so I just had to read over it again and make a few edit changes. One was a short story (less than 15000 words). One was a novella that has been on my computer in dire need of an ending for nearly a year (translation: I finally wrote THE END by adding two more paragraphs) and the other two? I'm not even sure I can describe the earth-moving experience with those. I finished a novella that I actually forgot I started two years ago and I turned in a sequel for a new paranormal series that should've been out the door three months ago.

In any event, with all of the activity, I had time to reflect. After all of the genre hopping I've done over the last few weeks, yesterday I decided I have a new love. I love writing  westerns. Almost as much as casino-related stories. Must have something to do with the fact that I personally think that the sexiest men in the world are either gamblers or cowboys.

In any case, I decided that western erotic stories are my new choice flavor this week. Of course, last week, I tried my hand at a little BDSM and thought it might just take the cake and become a preference too. Before you get too excited, I'm talking about writing it and not…well, never mind. J My wings were clipped momentarily. Passing thought. Hmm…not really. Tie me up in a corner somewhere. Leave my hands free and a computer handy (so I don't get behind on work and checking in with everyone on MySpace) and oh yes, send me Apple Martinis on a regular basis hand-delivered by a cowboy or craps player. Dreamy.

BDSM proved fun to write. I loved the research. Again, don't get too excited. I did most of it online. The story is on the darker side of romance so stay tuned, I can't wait to tell you more and look for BDSM stories from me later this year. I'm going to like writing these.
 

For now, I have a question of the day and I hope to hear from you!

If you read, what genre do you like to read most? If you're a writer, weigh in with your favorite genre to write! AND publishers and agents, what do you like so much right now that you have an open call for submissions? Check in when you can!

Hugs!

Destiny

Okay, I admit it. I watch soap operas. Actually, I used to watch them but due to disappointing events and frankly poor writing, I dropped a couple of shows several years ago. Now, I watch one. I only have time to watch one. It goes without saying that when I watch my chosen soap, I'm deeply buried under laundry, folding my way out from under a pile of it while waiting for a rare and catchy storyline.  

I like General Hospital. I could love GH again but right now, I can't say I'm enthusiastic with it. I've watched since the early eighties but lately, I'm starting to find that the show lacks the ability to deliver. That is, until the Johnny/Lulu match-up began. However,

after today, I'm back to wonder whether or not the writers will be able to strike up the kind of quivering excitement they need to help Johnny and Lulu make it as a power team.  

Anyone who has ever watched a soap opera knows the power of super-couple. It's all about the chemistry. Either the couple has it or they don't. A prime example of this is Sonny and Carly. The first Carly (Sarah Brown) had phenomenal chemistry with Sonny. The actresses that followed her, while extremely talented, never had the earth-shattering chemistry that Sarah Brown and Maurice Bernard possessed in front of the camera.

The reason that a super-couple becomes classified as such is more than good writing, it's true onstage chemistry between the actor and actress. Julie Marie Berman (Lulu) and Brandon Barash (Johnny) can heat up the television screen but after today, I'm curious if the writers will develop what they've started. After a few episodes this week, I thought so but after today, I'm beginning to have a few doubts.

We've all watched this happen in the past too. At one time, Days of our Lives had Shawn and Belle positioned to become a larger-than-life couple. Truly, they did. Then, someone somewhere dropped the ball. In my humble opinion, they never managed to reach their potential but I don't know. That's one of the shows that I know longer watch even though terrific talent remains there.

The reason this topic is on my mind today is because I have a daughter who is just starting to watch General Hospital. I used to do the same thing when I was thirteen so I allow it. After all, soaps show less skin than what my kids find at the movie theatres. She brought up a good point just yesterday when Lulu went flying back into the arms of Johnny. "Wouldn't it be nice if they only had eyes for each other?"

Truth is, it would be nice. It would be fantastic if for once, the writers would just let this couple have a passionate romance from start to finish without the obstacles of someone like Logan to mess up things.

Now, for those Logan fans out there, I like Logan. He's easy enough on the eyes but I don't like him for Lulu. I actually thought that the writers should've paired an older woman (Skye) with him and they'd have a white-hot hit in the making (and possibly the makings of another super-couple). However, no one asked me. Sadly.

In any event, I wanted to hear from you today. What do you think about Johnny and Lulu and if you have an opinion, do you think GH has what it takes to fully develop them as a couple? AND do you think they have the potential to be as marketable as Luke and Laura? I do. It's time for another super-couple to light up our afternoons. This is a match made in heaven. My mercy, have you seen Johnny smile? And the way he looks at her? See, that alone is enough to melt Crisco, never mind every female heart on the planet.

"What cha reading?"

In my office, I have a bulletin board along with a dry-erase board for ideas and reminders and a dry-erase four-month planner. Keep in mind that the reason I have a four-month planner is because I refuse to plan out work-related projects beyond four months in 2008.

In any event, my New Years Resolutions are posted on my dry-erase boards. Yes, both of them. At the top of both boards is my number one resolution. In 2008, I'm going to grab some down-time whenever I can and the best way to do that is to read a book. I decided I'd read one a week. Keep in mind, I used to enjoy reading so much that I read far more than that but I just don't have time now.

Low and behold, my teenagers spotted my list of resolutions and my daughter decided that every single time I have a book in hand, I have free time to do something else for her. Generally, it's something simple. However, often it's something she could do for herself.

I set out on my book-a-week journey the week before Christmas. At first, she approached the idea of pulling me away from my books with ease. The "whatcha reading" tactic. You know the one. "What's it about?" "Who wrote it?" "Is it good?" And a zillion other questions.

Since I began reading again, every single time I open a book to read a few pages, here they come (my daughter, my son, or the kids they've brought in for the day). They rapid-fire with questions and ultimately lead to the demise of my goal. I'll close the book and either do something for them or go back to my office and work. Sometimes I think it's the latter they want most anyway. After all, even though I'm self-employed, when someone asks me who I work for, I always state the obvious. "My children."

In any event, I have to tell you about a recent event that may have put a stop to the reading interruptions. I think, I've found a solution.

Right after Christmas, I struggled to find the time to read a book I'd been dying to read through without interruptions. It was Turning Angel by Greg Iles. I knew it would be a fabulous book that I would want to savor.

I wanted to curl up in my flannel pajamas (yes, that's right, flannel PJs so I definitely wouldn't be the epitome of sex appeal), turn on the lamps and be left alone. It didn't happen. Suffice it to say, this best seller took me days upon days to read because I felt like I had to give a play by play report to three different people. So, I decided to handle things differently.

I opened up Dangerous Games by Lora Leigh one evening after working twelve hours on a speech for a client. I was tired, grumpy and totally frazzled. I just wanted to read. Two chapters in and I was hooked. I couldn't put the book down. That is, until I heard the dreadful question.

"Whatcha reading Mom?"

I saw the mischief in her eyes when she walked in the room.

"Why?" I fired back.

"I just wanted to see if I could have some friends over." It was a question more than a statement and this one had been used on me several times during the holidays. I had agreed, not once but twice, to sleepovers with an "uh-huh, sure honey" while turning pages in a book. It wasn't going to happen again. I was prepared. The ammunition was ready.

I glanced over the top of my book knowing what would be next. The sweet plotting of a thirteen year old.

"That looks like a good book. What's it about?"

I never laid the book down. I just started reading it verbatim. Lucky for me, the scene I read wasn't too explicit, of course I did "bleep" a few words here or there but it didn't matter. By the time I read one page, she was gone. I looked over at my husband and smiled.

"Nice." He commented.

"I thought so."

"I bet. So…" he began, "What's the book about?"

I slowly raised the book back up without peering over or around it. "Hot Navy SEALS  and a man who resists with everything he is the love he holds for one woman. It's so intense that I can almost see the abs, no wait, I can almost feel the abs on this guy…"

I heard the recliner move before a pillow slammed into my lap. "Nice." He commented once more.

I thought so.

So, my friends, what are you reading? As soon as I post this blog, I'm going to bed with Vince Flynn's Consent to Kill and yep, the flannel pajamas are on tonight!

Until next time, keep it sexy!

Destiny

The Barbara Walters Special

"10 Most Fascinating People" of 2007

I watched The Barbara Walters Special last night and couldn't believe her list of the 10 Most Fascinating People of 2007. I couldn't help but wonder where she came up with her list. While I agreed with some on the list (Justin Timberlake, J.K. Rowling and David Beckham), there were a few that made the list that didn't get a nod of agreement from me.

So, since it's been a few weeks since we've blogged together, I want to ask you to weigh in with your 10 most fascinating people of 2007. Give me your list or your lists along with your reasons but do let me hear from you! Who knows, if you come up with a fabulous top 10 and one that we can agree upon, I may just send you a copy of my upcoming novel.

Have fun with this one and give me your opinions because you'll definitely hear mine!

Destiny

Don't You Forget about Me—the song

Simple Minds. What can I say except that I love them? When I found the song on MySpace today, I nabbed it and didn't think twice about it. I've had some pretty awesome songs on my "space" since I started this site but today, I wanted one to take me back in time, to an easier place when things were just so "simple" and carefree.  Naturally, it made me think back to some all-time great events, music, people, books, and the list goes on. You know, things and people I never want to forget so I thought, "You  know, I bet I'm not the only one. I think I'll blog." Sounded like a good topic to blog about, don't you think?

My list of people, places, events, and things I want to remember would be far too long to include here but just this song alone brought back plenty of important memory-enticements so I thought I'd ask you to revisit the past too. Tell me something you want to remember for all time. A good book, an exceptional movie, something you know you'll only see once in a lifetime, just anything you can think of. Come on now, don't be shy. What is it that you know you don't want to forget or what is it that you don't want people to forget about you?

I want to remember a time when Robert Downy Jr. wasn't strung out on drugs and the character he portrayed in Less then Zero with heart-throb Andrew McCarthy was just that—a film character. It was a movie that came out when the worst drug kids tried in rural America typically wore a nickname such as Mary Jane rather than the Devil's Drug. I want to remember the first time I ever read the Little House on the Prairie books and how much I thought Laura Ingalls Wilder had the "better" life just because she had a cool loft bedroom. I want to remember all those faces that I've met throughout my life that inspired me in one way or another. I want to remember the greatest moments in sports, the best times in music, the biggest award winners at the Academy Awards and the list marches on.

Now, I'd love to hear from you! Tell me what you like to think about when you want to grab hold of your past and carry a piece of it with you into the future.

Until next time, keep it "simple" but always sexy,

Destiny