If I were his focus ...

I'd be internally Squeeeing.

That's my word when I'm excited.

I'm not sure if it's the look in his eyes, the small smile or the attitude, but it all works.

If I met him and he looked at me like that... I'd be a girly girl for sure and just giggle and swoon.

What about you?

You know, I'm starting to hate that camera

Ah! My favorite, a SPEAKING look.

*****************************************

There went Jenny, giggling and and hiding behind the gnarled oak tree, snapping pictures of her favorite obsession, Stan the Man.

*

Stan knew she was there and at first was flattered with all the action shots she'd take as he'd jog the park trails.

Lately however, he'd been hearing not only more giggles but whispers, like she'd passed the word to her girlfriends. They hadn't been as discreet or cute about it and today's behavior counted as the last straw.

*

Stan observed Jenny cringing behind her troublesome titian-haired friend, staring at the paintball gun in the girl's hand in horror. He watched as she lifted her tear-filled eyes to his. As she took in the paint-splattered seat of his shorts Stan saw dismay and regret cloud her eyes and it was then he realized that she'd had no idea what her friends had planned to do.

*

The stern look on his face spoke volumes, of recrimination and disgust, but the red-headed hellion brought up her own camera and aimed it at his stony face. Stan heard her crow to the others,

*

"Aren't guys cute when they have on that mad aggressive look?"

*

Stan zeroed in on Jenny, guaging her reaction. He was gratified to see that although she was young and giddy, she wasn't without knowing right from wrong. He watched her grab the camera away from her friend and toss it to Stan. He grabbed it in one hand and held the other up in a universal stopping motion when the troublemaker screeched in outrage.

*

"You, young lady, will get your camera back when your parents pay the laundry bill for cleaning the paint off of my shorts. If it doesn't come off, then you'll be having to pay for a new pair. As for my 'angry look',", Stan chose a few select pictures and hit the delete button. "I don't see a need for you to keep it. Do you?"

*

Stan turned to Jenny and held out his hand. "Care to let me walk you home?"

*

He smiled at Jenny when she trustingly walked towards him and put her hand in his, her eyes looking up at him in shy adoration.

*

"Okay, Officer Bencher"

*

Her friends' gasp of horror told Stan a bit more about young Jenny. She hadn't told her friends everything.

A Story From a View

There's something about a vein-roped arm isn't there?

A strong and large hand capable of strength and gentleness...maybe.

What about an aloof posture? Don't you feel it's a challenge to your femininity? How do you get him to turn towards you, to notice you?

What or who is he looking out towards?

Is it a deep yearning that he feels?

Is he contemplating doing something?

Or is his appearance for someone's benefit. Is he exposing his vulnerability in a most basic way to his heart's interest yet keeping that barometer of truth hidden?

I never could figure out how a picture could be worth a thousand words, but if a picture inspires you to write a short story, then I guess they'd be right.

So, how would you answer those questions in your story ?

If he were Were

Were what?

What would he be if we were to have him be a Were?

Jaguar is all I can think of.

Alpha for sure.

He's got a very potent look in his eye. Classic features and nicely proportioned torso that's not overdone.

A guy in shape without obsessing about it to the exclusion of all other pursuits.

Wouldn't you want one of the pursuits to be you?

Will you let him catch you?

Well, since I believe him to be Jason Mamoa..... *grin*

Spoiled Spoiler

I'm airing my dirty laundry here with regards to my opinions about a book I've read.
On A Wild Night by Stephanie Laurens.

SPOILER!!

I am spoiled by her depiction of the Bar Cynster men. Strong men written well. I guess she wanted to pass that strong trait onto her Cynster females. For me, it was too unbelievable. How can a 23 year old female virgin have the wherewithal to know JUST how to lead a man on, control her facial expressions in EVERY situation in order to discombobulate a man who has survived intrigues and delicate diplomacy dances in India? How can her eyes ever be innocent, guiles and "happy to see him" without undercurrents of plotting, scheming and knowledge??

Truly, I felt Dexter, the main love interest, was demeaned, written less masculine. I'm sure the intent was to make us more sympathetic ... the problem was ... I almost lost respect for him as a man. His very first entry into the arena was stimulating, promising and downright thrilling. But when we got into his head ... he was feminized!! ARGH!!!

When he stopped dancing to Amanda's tune..then we saw the MAN. But it took FOREVER!
Like I said in my comments on Brady's site ... it was a 406 page book that could have been easily 300 pages.

Amanda's plot just went on and on and on and on ... it felt plodding, full of info I didn't care to wade through. Although well written ... it was extra baggage the story didn't need. I. didn't need.

Remember, this is my OPINION. How it left me feeling after I read it. I did stay up until 1AM, determined to finish the blasted thing.

I DO intend to read Amelia's Story.
I do enjoy the Bar Cynster world that Stephanie as created.
I Did enjoy Luc's set up as the next potential victim.

It remains to be seen if it is all I hope it will be.

Vitriolic Spoiler

I can't say this on my other blog. I am NOT going to be nice.
I'm a spewing mad.

I waited and waited for this book that others have been raving about for weeks and weeks.
I finally get it yesterday.
I start into it today.

By the fifth chapter I knew.
I knew without a doubt.
I WAS GOING TO HATE THIS BOOK

Enter Phillip, Marquess of Roxly. Oh, I had an idea that as soon as Max says that she could never have a lover nor ever could get married, I knew.

Phillip was going to die.

WHY DOES EVERY CHARACTER NAMED PHILLEP OF A SUPPOSEDLY KICK ASS HEROINE HAVE TO DIE???? - (Remember Anita? Even LKH admits that she wished she hadn't done that.)

After the sixth chapter I skipped to the end.

Validation.

SHE KILLS HIM!! Because he was the weak link. JUST . LIKE. I. Expected.

I hate stories like that. I really do. Predictable and I refuse, absolutley refuse to get all emotionally invested in a character, a strong romantic lead only to have him off'd because it is going to be a series and she ultimately can't be tied down. I'm supposed to "feel her pain" ??? And even if she ends up with Max someday, I didn't care enough for Sir Stake-a-lot (the only cute thing I read) to even care that it may work out-- that he is her future mate. I consider how snarky he treats her ... out of character.. and I think that it is So .... So....

70's HARLEQUIN!!!

Ba! Hum Bug.

The Rest Falls Away.

I'm fallen and I'm not getting up.
Pah!

What do I tell her?

Edit: 2-12
Trent spied Celeste in the company of his bretheren as they headed his way down the hallway. She hadn't seen him yet and for that reprieve he was grateful.

In that moment anguish washed over him. How could he soften the inevitable blow? How could he tell her, someone he cared for, that she had no choice?
Oh goddess, she was everything to him.
His fisted his hands at his side; he would do what had to be done.

Trent stared intently at his future mate. How innocent she looked, how trusting as she was led towards him, the serpent in her perfect garden of life.
Yes, she was his but that wouldn't stop the neccesity of the ritual. It demanded it.
Her trust had to be tested in the most basic way.
The seed must germinate.

Realizing that she was coming close enough to see him, he donned a floor length duster made from snake skin to cover his nakedness. He left it hanging open and loose, ready for the change that would overtake him and eventually, her.

Usually, clothes were a hinderance but were necessary to the initiation ritual. He noted with approval that Celeste had on the ceremonial gown. As she came closer , he admired how the garment, studded with irredecent serpentine scales , sparkled colored rainbows as the folds brushed her thighs from the flow of her stride. Slit up to her hips, the volumous folds teased him with the smooth lines of her legs. His gaze grew heated with anticipation, knowing that the simple covering would soon be removed and discarded.
Unlike him.
She would never be able to remove him from her life or discard him for another.


Trent stepped forward and alerted Celeste' s scanning gaze to his presence. Her eyes found and locked onto his and she stumbled to a stop. In that electric moment, the first step of the exchange began. Her eyes widened with shock at the physical nature of his intense scrutiny. It burned and tingled whereever his look touched upon her body.

Celeste started to tremble with fear at the alien sensation but it slowly shifted to another more subtle movement. A sensuous swaying of her body started with her hips and graduated to her upper torso, her arms upraised in supplication. She found herself eager to reach him, to touch him. Her cheeks were flushed and she bit her lip in shy contemplation. He looked like someone you could eat and she felt herself becoming very hungry ... for him. Celeste dropped her arms slowly, enticingly to land on her upper thighs palms down. A soft step, then another, she advanced towards him in a serpentine slide. When she reached Trent, her hands slid under his duster to glide and caress the bare skin of his hairless chest underneath.
With a quick shove the snake skin garment fell in an unnoticed heap on the floor.

Trent hissed in pleasure as Celeste's trembling fingers made contact on his heated flesh. He captured her hands and pressed them firmly onto his chest, over his heart. He stared into her eyes, mesmerized, both unwilling and unable to let her go. Reaching and probing into her innermost thoughts he searched for the spark buried there. If he did not find it during the first half of the ritual, they'd both die. But he knew it was there, he was betting his life on it, on her. From the first moment she accidently brushed up against him at Walmart, he knew. She was his mate.
For her, he would die.
He just hoped it didn't come to that.

Alright, I admit, he was GREAT in Sahara!!