On cat barf and celebrating the small things

I woke this morning to the startling discovery that one of the cats barfed on the bedroom floor.

OK, that wasn't the startling discovery. We have five cats, so barf is an everyday treat.

This bad boy is on sale here for 99-cents!

No, the startling discovery was that Marine for Hire was sitting at #15 on Amazon's "Top 100 Paid in Kindle Store" list. Considering this book has been out since February 2014, and considering its previous best rank was around #132, this was big news.

I shared the news with my husband as I climbed groggily into the shower with him. "Congratulations," he said. "How are you going to celebrate?"

"Well," I said. "Since it's 5:30 in the morning, I'm going to start with a vigorous session of Pilates with my personal trainer, followed by a flight to New York to have brunch with my agent."

"Uh, what?"

"That's code for 'clean up the cat barf' and 'fold laundry.'"

He politely refrained from pointing out my code sucks, though he did point out something I hadn't realized: With About that Fling still hovering in the low 30s on the same Amazon bestseller list, that means I currently have two books in Amazon's top 40.

Quite an accomplishment for an author who spent the last four years seeing mostly mediocre sales, and the previous six or seven years before that hearing editor after editor say, "sorry, but romantic comedy just doesn't sell well."

I'd like to pretend my day's plans got more exotic from there, but the fact of the matter is that I'm up at 5:30 because I urgently need to write 6,000 words today for a book that comes out next fall. And my fervent hope with those 6,000 words is that at the end of the day, 1,000 of them might be salvageable.

That's kinda how it goes with this author gig. To the best of my knowledge, there's no magical moment where you stop writing drivel on a regular basis. You just get better at distinguishing the drivel from the good stuff.

And as far as I know, there will be no point where I stop having to plant my butt in the chair, sit down at the keyboard, and write until my fingertips are sore even when I'm tired or cranky or so uninspired that it feels like I'm wearing a fur coat while slogging through a vat of honey.

God knows I'm not complaining – I love this job, and I feel damn lucky that I get to do it. But I do think authors (along with a whole host of other people in different careers) need to do a better job of celebrating the mundane, day-to-day accomplishments. You got up this morning and put on pants? Good for you! Have a burrito! You got through your email inbox by noon or wrote 500 words or organized your sex toy collection in alphabetical order? You're a rock star! Pat your fine self on the back and feel good about it.

Now if you'll excuse me, that cat barf isn't going to clean itself. Well, not unless I let the dog have a crack at it. Hey, there's an idea . . .

How do you write humor? (And other questions I suck at answering)

When you're an author of risque romantic comedy, people like to ask you the secret to writing humor. I actually kinda wish they'd ask more about the "risque romantic" part of the equation, because I could totally nail a question on how to get your rocks off.

(Incidentally, did you guys see the video my husband and I did when we launched Protector for Hire? In case you didn't, here's how to get frisky in the forest):



But back to the original question about writing humor. I fumble a bit when I'm asked how to do it because it's not something I feel qualified to instruct someone in executing. While I'm comfortable teaching workshops on social media strategies for authors or how to remove your bra through your sleeve, I'm not sure I can tell anyone how to be funny.

What I can tell you is that I once waxed off my own eyebrow by mistake and then tried to draw it back in with eyeliner. I didn't realize until I got to work that I'd used green eyeliner.

I also went to a fancy luncheon once and spit gristle into my napkin, then forgot I'd done it and dropped the gristle into the designer handbag of the woman seated next to me. I got caught trying to fish it out, which was only slightly less embarrassing than the time I attended a different fancy luncheon and shoved a heaping spoonful of butter in my mouth because I thought it was whipped cream.

Are you sensing a pattern here?

Because the fact that I'm a magnet for absurdity is really the only thing I can point to as the secret to writing believable comedy.

The handy thing is that I can mine from my own life when it comes to writing my novels. There's a scene in my newesest romantic comedy, About that Fling, in which the hero and heroine attempt to have a private conversation in a video booth at an adult arcade. While I'm not saying real life unfolded quite that way for me, there's a reason I knew how things were likely to play out in their situation.

There's another scene involving a discussion about toilet paper, an incident that came straight from my husband's life (which I suppose you could take as a lesson that it's smart to marry someone who is also a magnet for ridiculousness, but I digress).

Reviewers for  About that Fling have also been zeroing in on the more serious undertones in my story. In their a starred review of the book, Publishers Weekly noted:

"There’s something wonderfully relaxing about being immersed in a story filled with over-the-top characters in undeniably relatable situations. Heartache and humor go hand in hand in this laugh-out-loud story with an ending that requires a few tissues." 

While the humor is undeniably mine, I'll admit the heartache is, too. Those of you who've followed this blog since its inception in February 2010 know how I cycled from happily married to unexpectedly divorced to dating again and eventual remarriage. Pieces of that experience make up the core of this book, and it's not all giggles and gropes. Sometimes, happily-ever-after doesn't happen the way you hoped it would, and there's a lot of funny, heart-wrenching stuff you'll encounter in your journey to get there.

So I'm not sure that answers the original question about humor, but it does fill up a whole blog post, so there's that.

If you haven't nabbed About that Fling yet, you can find eBooks, paperbacks, and even audiobooks here. In the four weeks the book has been part of the Kindle First program, I've been elated to see it peak as high as #2 on Amazon's "Top 100 Paid in Kindle Store" list, and anyone neurotically watching the stats (er, just me) would have noticed it's stayed pretty consistently in the top 10 or top 20 with one small dip to #22.

Considering the best ranking I'd previously had for any of my books was around #130, that's kinda impressive.

So go out there and grab the book. Then shove a spoonful of butter in your mouth and wax off your eyebrow. It'll make you funny, I swear.

So this happened...

For months, I've been dying to tell you guys my secret.

No, it has nothing to do with what's in the drawer of my nightstand (please...that's no secret).

My secret had to do with About that Fling, my romantic comedy slated for publication September 1 with Montlake Romance. The folks at Publishers Weekly got their hands on an early copy a couple months ago, and gave it a starred review, writing:

"There’s something wonderfully relaxing about being immersed in a story filled with over-the-top characters in undeniably relatable situations. Heartache and humor go hand in hand in this laugh-out-loud story with an ending that requires a few tissues." 

But that's not the secret.

The secret isn't actually a secret now, or at least it hasn't been since Saturday, August 1. That's when the book was released through the Kindle First program. What's Kindle First?

(Hey, it's okay to ask . . . I'll admit I had no idea until my agent started talking to me about it last summer).

In a nutshell, Amazon chooses 4-6 books per month to be Kindle First picks. One month before these books' scheduled release date, they advertise them as Kindle First selections and readers are allowed to choose one of the Kindle First books to purchase for $1.99. Amazon Prime members can choose one for free. At the end of the one-month promo, the books go up for sale at full price, but by then they've already got gobs of reviews and a 30-day track record of sitting on the Amazon bestseller list.

I probably don't have to tell you why this program was described to me three months ago as "life-changing for an author."

Or maybe I do. Here, let me show you a couple things from the last two days.

This is what I saw when I checked my Amazon ranking within a few hours of the book going live through Kindle First:

For those who don't check my Amazon rank as neurotically as I do (er, everyone) that's the first time in my whole career I've even cracked the "Top 100 paid in Kindle store" list. Two days later, I'm still sitting there in the #4 slot.

Not only that, but here's what I saw when I pulled up Amazon's list of the top 10 bestselling romance authors:

You might have to click the image to get a good look at it, but HOLY CRAP YOU GUYS, that's me in the #1 slot on a list that includes romance legends like Nora Roberts and Diana Gabaldon.

So, yeah. To say I'm over-the-moon about this Kindle First thing would be an understatement akin to suggesting I'm mildly fond of my husband's butt.

But aside from the reviews and the rankings and the book sales, there's something else at play here. I know I'm not supposed to admit this as an author, but no book I've published to date has as much meaning to me as About that Fling. For eons I've heard authors talk about "the book of my heart," and I always did a silent eye-roll and wrote it off as sentimental tripe.

Then I wrote this book.

Or more accurately, I wrote this book from the ashes of divorce and remarriage and all the heartbreaking, hilarious, heartwarming things that come from that process.

Those of you who've been following my books for a while will recognize my trademark humor in the pages of About that Fling, but you'll see a little something different, too. This book has some meat to it, and I'm not talking about the hero's beef bayonet or the heroine's fondness for riding the baloney pony. While there's sex in this book, it's much more understated than you'll find in my books for Entangled Publishing. And while there's humor in this book, it's a bit more sophisticated than what you've read in Making Waves or Believe it or Not or Frisky Business.

Here's what one Amazon reviewer wrote:

What I love most about Tawna Fenske's writing style is the waggish repartee that infuses the dialogue and descriptions. Though previously never have heard of her publications, I'd now read any genre written by Fenske. I delight in such fun back-and-forth and lopsided grinning word play, comparable to how WEST WING's snappy wit paired with emotional investiture made it a personal TV Series favorite. The sparkling humor, rolling passion, and risqué innuendo are not mere pinpoints in dross wording, however; the entire novel exhibits a warmness, a fluid narrative characteristic of a seasoned writer who goes beyond the subject matter and crafts her very presentation. Nor are the characters simple simpering fools. They are smart, suave, and, yes, outlandish, yet remaining very human at the core. And prepare for an ending that made even me get a bit of a burning around the edges of my eyes. Albeit hardly a regular Romance reader, I have certainly become a fan of Fenske, and enormously glad I decided on ABOUT THAT FLING for this month's Kindle First choice.

So if you haven't already grabbed it, now's a good time to get your hands on About that Fling from Amazon. But if you'd prefer to wait for the paperback or the audiobook, or if you'd just prefer to pay full price in September, you can do that, too.

Thanks for reading, guys! Now for a look in that nightstand drawer...

But what's in a name?

Being new to this whole parenting gig means I spend a lot of time unsure what I'm supposed to be contributing to the education of these two young people who now call me their stepmom (prompting me to look around wondering, "who the hell are they talking about?")

But one thing I feel confident sharing with them is my love of '80s music. After a road trip in which I introduced sugar-poppy favorites like Cyndi Lauper, Samatha Fox, and Suzy Q, I got the following text from the 9-year-old:

If that wasn't enough to warm the cockles of my heart, I don't know what cockles are. (Actually, I don't. What the hell are cockles?)

For those unfamiliar with Samatha Fox's delicious nugget of '80s cheese, it contains the classic line, "Samantha Fox is such a wild dame – huh, but what's in a name?"

Which leads me to the point of this blog post (and to the inevitable surprise that I actually have a point). Today is release day for Protector for Hire, my new romantic comedy from Entangled Publishing. Since this is my blog and I can say pretty much whatever I want here, I'll confess right now that this is my favorite of the four books in the Front and Center series (though if you haven't read any of the others, don't worry – I wrote each one to stand alone).

Reviews are already going up on Goodreads and Amazon, and I'm thrilled to see readers seem to share my fondness for this story. But one thing we don't necessarily share is a connection to the hero's name – Schwartz. At least half the reviews misspell it, and several more have remarked on how unromantic it is.

I can't disagree. But is that always a bad thing?

Technically, it's short for Schwarzkopf Alexander Patton. Those who've followed along in the series know all the kids in the Patton family were named for military generals, and while Sheridan, MacArthur, and Grant got the more normal sounding names, it makes sense the black sheep of the family would have the one that's a bit outside the box.

I'll freely admit "Schwartz" doesn't roll off the tongue (no pun intended) the way "Romeo" or "Ashton"or "Blake" might. But it does fit the character, a reclusive, curmudgeonly mountain man who's spent the last ten years hiding out in a remote cabin in the wilderness. There's a hint of "Beauty and the Beast" to this story, so having a hero with a slightly beastly name made sense.

How do you feel about the name Schwartz? Do you prefer your romance novel heroes to have more traditional names? Are we all now remembering the scene from When Harry Met Sally when Billy Crystal questions whether Meg Ryan could truly have great sex with a guy named "Sheldon?" Please share in the comments!

And please take a moment to click over and buy Protector for Hire! It's only $2.99 from Entangled Publishing. Also, I'll be over at Bitten By Books today from noon PST until late in the evening having a rager of a book release party, complete with prize giveaways and lots of book chat, so join us for that.

And last but not least, remember, kids: Naughty girls need love, too!

On hermit crab ghosts and why I shouldn't be left alone for the weekend

On Saturday morning, my 13-year-old stepson's hermit crab, Hercules, went to the great crabitat in the sky.

It was a mournful occasion marked with much wailing and moaning and donning of solemn black attire. But once I got out of bed, removed the crotchless teddy, and took a cold shower, there was the matter of burial to attend to.

Since the kids are with us only part-time and my husband was out of town, the funereal duties fell to me. My day's to-do list included planting our vegetable garden, so I decided to honor the deceased by allowing him to fertilize a tomato plant.

I dug a hole suitable for both crypt and fledgling tomato and gently shook the lifeless crustacean body from its shell into the grave. The odor suggested Hercules's demise may have been several days before the discovery of the corpse, but I opted not to amend the certificate of death.

I sang a few hymns, drank a bottle of wine in reverent communion, and planted my budding Oregon Spring tomato atop the sacred burial site. Then I set the empty shell beside the plant to serve as a tombstone until a more suitable one could be hand-carved from a nine-foot slab of Italian marble.

Once I finished up the garden, I went inside and spent the evening hosting a wake with the surviving hermit crab, five cats, the dog, and a black ghost knifefish the kids dubbed Jack Black. In the morning, I went outside to check the garden and discovered to my absolute amazement that Hercules's shell had moved ten feet to the opposite side of the garden.

Mystified, I picked up the shell and double-checked to be certain I hadn't mistakenly left a living creature inside. 

I kid. That's what a sane person would do. Or maybe the aforementioned sane person might assume a neighborhood cat or raccoon had moved the shell.

I, on the other hand, concluded the ghost of Hercules had decided he preferred to spend his eternal dirt nap beneath a daisy instead of a tomato. I took photos and sent them to my husband with an explanation about the ghost, likely prompting him to question the wisdom of his decision to marry me last fall.

After that, I went about my day like normal, which is to say I spent eight solid hours siting braless and unshowered in front of my laptop writing elaborate blowjob scenes for my next romantic comedy. Around 4:00, I went outside to check the garden again in case six bushels of tomatoes had magically sprouted from the consecrated remains. 

That's when I discovered the shell had moved again.

So I'm considering giving up romantic comedy in favor of writing crustacean ghost stories. If anyone needs me, I'll be at my laptop with a bottle of wine by my side and one eye on the door that leads to the garden.

Cover reveal for Protector for Hire!

If I had a nickel for every time I've been asked whether Schwartz will get his own story in the Front and Center series, I'd have....well, a lot of nickels. And then I'd be that awkward person taking all the nickels up to the counter at the wine shop, and everyone in line behind me would get mad and I'd probably get beaten up in the parking lot and I'd still have a black eye when book release day rolls around on June 30.

Yep, that's right – Protector for Hire will be released June 30, and it is indeed Schwartz's story. Well, Schwartz and Janelle. She's kind of important, too.

Those of you who've read the Front and Center series will remember Schwartz as the broody, long-lost black sheep brother of the Patton family. You'll also remember Janelle as the city-slicker younger sister of Anna (Grant's love match in Best Man for Hire).

If you haven't read the Front and Center series, you've got time to get caught up before the fourth and final book comes out (that's Protector for Hire). Each book is only $2.99 and you can find 'em all here.

In any case, the good folks at Entangled Publishing created this awesome video to reveal the cover of Protector for Hire. Check it out!

 

Cover reveal and a huge sale!

So this turned out to be a rather exciting week for me.

No, I didn't figure out how to hook the car battery up to those nipple clamps.

First off, I got official permission to share the cover for my September 2015 romantic comedy About That Fling. Isn't it lovely?

I have to admit, I was a little unsure how they'd manage to capture the vibe of this contemporary romance that has some darker, deeper edges than my usual rom-com fare. I'm super in love with it!

The book is available for pre-order here, and this is more or less what it's about:

As the top PR person for the Belmont Health System, bright, beautiful Jenna McArthur knows how to spin bad news and make it sound good. But when her adorable Aunt Gertie—a secret romance writer—urges Jenna to embrace her wild side, Jenna tumbles into bed with Adam Thomas, a guy she’s just met, for a fun and fantastic one-night stand. Too bad Adam is the one guy who’s totally off-limits.  

There aren’t enough clever words in the world to spin the story in a way that won’t wreck Jenna’s closest friendship or destroy her job. With the irresistible Adam always around her at work, wearing an aura of temptation like a fabulous cologne, Jenna has to hold tight to her senses to avoid falling for him. Will he take her to the heights of pleasure again—or will their attraction destroy everything she’s worked for?

Here's that pre-order link again if you want to see that on your Kindle first thing in the morning on September 1.

The second bit of exciting news is that Fiancée for Hire was chosen to be part of the Kindle Big Deal program. At the risk of sounding redundant, that's kind of a big deal in the author world. What it means is that they price the book at 99-cents for a limited time, and then they market the ever-loving-crap out of it during the sale period.

When they do it with a series book like Fiancée, it's a killer way to get new readers hooked so they come back and buy the rest of the series at full price.

Wait, I'm probably not supposed to reveal the sales strategy behind it, huh?

Well anyway, if you've never read Fiancée for Hire (or if you have read it and want to share it with someone else for only 99-cents) now's the time to nab it. Here's the link.

So that's my week in a nutshell. Well, that and the fact that most of my life is in boxes right now because we're moving. What's new with you? Please share!

But how do you do it all?

I got it again yesterday.

Not "it" in the sense that you're thinking (though I suppose that's true, too – I'm a newlywed, after all).

No, I'm talking about the question I hear about five times a week from colleagues, fellow-authors, and the homeless guy watching me pick up dog doo during my morning walk:

How do you do it all?

While the homeless guy might have a different context for his question, most people are asking how I manage to balance having a day job, a personal life, a family, and writing career that's gone a little nutso in the last year (four romantic comedies published in 2014, and four more on the agenda for 2015).

I know a few of you are hoping I'll offer up the recipe for a secret formula I drink each morning to magically add an extra six hours to each day. Sadly, that's not the case (though the opposite may occur when consuming large quantities of Chianti).

Magic potions aside, here are a few things I can point to that buy me extra tidbits of time or give me the tools I need to balance this whole crazy mess.

No boob tube

I'm not talking about tube tops (though for the record, I can't wear those without looking like a misshapen hot dog). I'm talking about television. I can't actually recall making a conscious decision not to watch it, but about seven or eight years ago, I quit flipping the TV on to catch nightly reruns of Friends or the evening news. I was never a big TV fan anyway, and I never had cable, so this wasn't a huge hardship. Even so, it was eye-opening how much free time I suddenly had.

Not-so-coincidentally, that's about the time I got serious about writing.

Do I miss it? Not really. I still get together with girlfriends for an occasional tipsy viewing of The Bachelor, and my husband buys boxed sets of TV series like Dexter and Breaking Bad that we'll chip away at for a year or two by watching an episode on laundry folding night.

If the idea of giving up the boob tube makes you weep, don't feel bad. Everyone needs little indulgences, and if that's yours, rock on with your TV-watching self. Just look for other time-sucking elements to cut from your life. A pal recently gave up Facebook and said he's astounded by how much extra time he has now that he's not flipping through his phone every five minutes to see who commented on photos of his dinner.

Multi-task like a boss

I'm very rarely doing only one thing at a time. When I walk the dog, I'm also catching up with my mom on the phone. When I'm on the phone with my agent, I'm clipping my toenails. When I do the dishes, I'm thinking through plot details for my next book. When I join my husband in the boudoir to build the beast with two backs, I'm thinking through the choreography of a sex scene I'm preparing to write.

I probably shouldn't have admitted that last one.

This blog post was written over the course of several lunch breaks at the day job. I brainstormed most of it in the car on my way to Barre class, dictating ideas to Siri on my phone as I drove. Incidentally, this post nearly contained the phrase, "nice turn signal, asshole!"

Whether you're struggling to build a writing career, or just trying to juggle a sane person's existence, multi-tasking is your friend. Just don't let me hear you peeing when we're on the phone.

Figure out where to flex

Despite all my meticulous planning and time-saving strategies, life happens. On Monday, "life" was a puking kitten and a vet visit that took up more than two hours of my precious writing day.

That's why I always build extra cushions into my writing schedule. I mark my calendar with word count goals for every day I'll be writing. Then I try to keep myself 2,000 words ahead of that so when I'm derailed by vet visits or unexpected meetings or  lunchtime quickies  or computer trouble, I don't have as much ground to make up later.

Make plans and set goals, then take a step back. Think about where things could go off the rails, and set yourself up so you're not totally screwed if that happens.

Accept the ways you suck

There are many ways I suck, several of which are not suitable for sharing on this blog. One of the things I suck most at, however, is keeping track of my eyeglasses. They're a requirement for me to read or write, but I'm constantly losing them. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you I lose or break about 20 pairs a year.

So I have a choice here: I can get pissed off at myself and spend half my day searching for lost glasses and the other half insisting I'm going to change my sucky ways, or I can accept that this is who I am and work around my own faults.

Then I can go out and buy 15 new pairs of prescription eyeglasses from Zenni Optical for $6.95 each and scatter them everywhere in my home. Problem solved, self-flagellation avoided, and hours that would have otherwise been spent searching for eyeglasses are now diverted back into writing.

Got a bad habit that's eating up your time? Find creative ways to work with or work around your faults instead of expending the energy fighting yourself.

Don't let the big picture freak you out

When my gentleman friend and I were planning our wedding last summer, we had a whiteboard for all the pressing items on our to do list. As the big day approached, our list grew to the point that our tiny wording required a magnifying glass so we'd know how to spend our weekend.

I hated that whiteboard. I still do.

That's why I like having two kinds of to do lists: The one that shows the big picture of everything I need to tackle in the coming weeks or months. Then I have a second one that includes the most immediate, pressing tasks, along with an assortment of minutia I include for the satisfaction of crossing a few things off the list.

Because nothing's more satisfying than checking off "take a shower" before noon on a writing day.

Play nice with others

One of the most important lessons I've learned is that I can't do everything alone. Not only can't I do it, but I shouldn't.

Promoting yourself as an author can be tedious sometimes, but joining forces with another author to make puppet sex videos? Well that's just good, clean fun.

Same goes for picking up tips from people who are smarter than me. On Facebook last week, author Katee Robert shared a photo of her Erin Condren life planner. When I commented asking about it, Katee and authors Jessica Lemmon and Robin Covington immediately chimed in with organization tips and even a coupon code. My new life planner is on its way to me now, and I intend to be fabulously organized within the week.

Or I'll just play with the stickers. Whatever.

In any case, don't be afraid to solicit tips, buddy up on projects, or find other ways to rely on the collective experience and creativity of your peers. It makes life more fun, and it's nice to shoulder the burden with others.

Give yourself a break

Next to the "how do you do it all?" question, the second most common inquiry I field is "when are you going to quit your day job?" My usual answer is that they'll have to grab me by the hair and forcibly drag me from the building. It's partly because my day job involves getting paid to snowshoe or go standup paddleboarding or take journalists out to drink beer, but there's another reason, too.

About four years ago, I had a nine-month period where I did the stay-at-home author thing full-time. It was the least creative nine months of my life. By not getting out to interact with humans and experience life, I turned off the tap that allowed my creative juices to flow.

This is less about having a day job and more about maintaining some diversity in your day-to-day activities so your brain doesn't shrivel like a testicle in ice water. Take your kids to the park. Have beers with friends. Enjoy a nooner. Go for a hike. Make time for a paw in your butt crack.

Above all, don't get so wrapped up in your pursuit of a goal that you forget to fuel your soul and your mind.

How about you?

So that's my long answer to a short question, but I don't claim to have all the answers. How do YOU manage to do it all? Please share in the comments!

Puppet sex, sloppy smooches, and a chance to win a signed book

These days, authors have to get pretty creative when it comes to book promotion. When Best Man for Hire came out two weeks ago, I covered my body in peanut butter and ran screaming through my neighborhood wearing a yellow fedora and a set of nipple tassels printed with scenes from the novel.

But the tassels kept getting stuck in the peanut butter, so people were reading the scenes out of order and learning the major plot twists before they even got to the first blowjob scene, which made several people angry enough to chase me through the streets with two-by-fours.

I narrowly escaped with my life.

To simplify things a bit, I decided to try a different form of promotion. I also partnered up with my fellow author Melia Alexander, since we shared the same release day and she's really good in a fist fight.

With the aid of my super-talented video producer husband, we created a series of four videos that made the rounds on Facebook and Twitter and YouTube over the last couple weeks. In case you missed them (or if you just wanted to check them out again) here's a roundup.

Oh, and uh....you may not want to watch these with young children or judgmental co-workers in the room.


Video #1: How to get ready for a New Year's Eve kiss





Video #2: Why you should leave your mistletoe up all year long





Video #3: Puppets perform a sexy scene from my book, Best Man for Hire





Video #4: Puppets perform a sexy scene from Melia's book, Merger of the Heart




So there you have it – the promotional alternative to peanut butter and nipple tassels. Which one did you like best? Tell me in the comments and I'll enter you (wow, that sounds filthy) ahem! I'll enter you in a drawing for a signed copy of one of my other romantic comedies (your choice between Making Waves, Believe it or Not, and Frisky Business).

Anyone else feeling squishy or vain?

"Isn't it time for your annual women's exam?"

These were the tender words my husband spoke to me the other morning. The fact that he knows the timing of my yearly visit to the crotch doc is either an indication he pays close attention to my health and well-being, or that he takes a vested interest in my hoo-hah.

Whatever the case, I was hesitant to answer. "Kinda."

"Kinda?"

"Well, yeah. I mean I've made my appointment in January every year for the last couple decades, but I was thinking of changing it up this year and aiming for March. Or April. Or maybe May. June's nice...."

He was eyeing me skeptically at this point, which probably would have been a good time for me to offer up some logical-sounding explanation about a new medical study citing a need to coincide one's yearly exam with the blooming of the lilacs.

But I'm not a very good liar, nor do I have any interest in syncing my lady bits with flower petals, so I was forced to admit the truth.

"When I go to the crotch doc, they weigh me," I explained. "And when they weigh me, it's part of my permanent medical record. And when they do that in January – following two months of gluttonous holiday feasting – plus you figure my clothes are heavier in the winter and they always have me get on the scale before I dress down, I end up weighing five or ten pounds more than I would in the summertime."

By now he was staring at me like I'd just announced my intent to give up romance writing so I could campaign to be the next pope. "Are your medical records posted on your blog?"

"No," I admitted.

"Does anyone besides you or your doctor see them?"

"No."

"So let me get this straight," he said. "You'd rather die of cervical cancer than have a scale tell you what you weigh in January?"

I had to think about that for a minute. "Maybe?"

He's right in calling me out for a level of vanity I wish I didn't possess. I swear I'm not like that in most aspects of my life. I can run to the grocery store sans makeup and wearing pajama pants. I buy all my clothes at thrift stores. I consider it a major accomplishment if I run a brush through my hair or wash it more than twice a week.

So why this hangup about seeing the doctor's scale with a number that's a few pounds more than I want it to be? I'm not sure I can answer that, but at least I know I'm not alone. 

Last week I met up with some girlfriends at a local wine bar. As we sat studying the menu, the conversation turned to the inevitable winter weight gain we'd all experienced.

"I'm glad I can talk about this with you guys, because I don't want to mention it to my husband," one or the women confided.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Guys tend to rate discussions of weight gain right up there with conversations about testicle piercing."

"Well, yes," she said. "But also I'm thinking he might not have noticed, so I don't want to point it out and have him start noticing."

Across the table, another woman who'd just informed us she's training for a half-marathon sat nodding in agreement. "I don't complain about my weight to my husband because he'll get excited to have an excuse for the two of us to run more."

What's the deal? What is it about weight that makes perfectly sane, perfectly attractive, perfectly healthy women go a little nutso? I'm asking for real here. What's your theory? Do you find yourself feeling fretful about a few holiday pounds, or do you have bigger fish to fry?

Mmm, fried fish....that sounds good. Maybe with a side salad?

After I call my doctor, of course.