I think my body is gearing up for the dop in temps we’re supposed to see tomorrow. I can’t get warm, and it’s driving me nutty. That combined with the need to leave a clean house this afternoon is making me jittery. Okay, it could be the need to eat that has me jittery, and to be fair, it’s not that the house is messy. The kids have been gone for a week and CIS and I have been too busy working to clutter it up. But you know how tap dancers used to sprinkle salt or sand on the floor to make that sound when they danced? Well, thanks to Slightly’s puppy adventures the last several days I don’t have to work to get that sound effect. I’ve swept the floors, but only a good mopping is going to address it, and I hate to mop. LOL, maybe I’ll get lucky and come home to find that it’s been done for me, but I’m not holding my breath.

I can enjoy the fact though that the rest of the house is cleaned up and when I leave here in a bit for a wekkend writer’s conference I leave knowing that my desk is cleared off and all but 7 emails have been answered. And those emails require more time than I have. And speaking of emails, here’s my OCDC Tip for the week. Answer things as they come in and they tend to pile up less. I also use Microsoft Outlook and have created tons of rules to sort my emails for me into folders. The biggest help is that yahoo group emails go into their own appropriate folder and all those bulk emails I get go into another one. This makes it much easier to focus on what must be done more immediately than other items.

How do you manage your emails to keep them from becoming too overwhelming?

A writ by definition is a formal legal document ordering or prohibiting some action. While the tips I will put here are by no means laws, they should certainly be taken into account.

Today’s writerly writ comes from the workshop I just taught for the Houston Bay Area RWA on behalf of Candace Havens. If you aren’t familar with Candace, check out her books and her website. She’s brilliant and one of the most giving people I know!

And the Writ!

“Attitude is everything in the publishing business. It’s filled with rejection and hearbreak, and also joyous moments that send you soaring. if you stay on an even keel and have a positive attitude, you’ll go further faster.”

And another…

“Fear is our biggest enemy. It’s the nasty ugliness that feeds our insecurities, and you have to beat it down with a great attitute.”

Amid the chaos that was my life the last two weeks I’ve played with some new features that I’ll be doing more of on the blog. There won’t be a set schedule, but each feature will have a specific focus (of sorts.) Today is the first in Laundry Lane. Laundry Lane is where I’ll talk about everything from friends to family life to toe woes of losing wieght (which doesn’t go so well when you eat junk food and stop working out) to chatter about fave TV shows or movies or even updates on the puppy (because I know that last one is what you all are burning to know about. lol)

So, Friendship.

Have you ever had the kind of friend who you could call on for any thing at any time and know they would be there for you with no qualifications? Or a friend who every time they hugged you, you got all squishy and warm inside? Or a friend who had a habit of wearing a really fabulous perfume that one brief sideways hug was all it took to cover you in the scent and have you thinking of them all day? Friends who you love to see their name on caller ID because you know that regardless of what the conversation topic is, one of you will laugh at something before it’s over? A friend you miss terribly when you go days without speaking or emailing or IMing?

I had friends in school, and I cherish my memories of them. Unlike CIS and a few of his friends though, we lost touch. I don’t know if our relationships would have turned into what I mentioned above, and I would’ve liked to find out. However, I wouldnt’ change the friends I’ve only recently (in the last year or so) found.

New and not as new, I have recenlty found myself surrounded by women that I respect and look forward to talking to. Women I can reach out to just as readily as they can reach out to me.

For the women in my critique group, The Bloody Pen Sisterhood, that means I can send an email with only FERRET in the subject and they know that’s my 911 call for help. (Yes, it’s an inside thing that will likely be explained later. lol) I hit a mini wall in my story tonight, I shot off the email and they bounced back with more questions and ideas that got me moving again.

Another friend recently cried FERRET, only she said HELP! The result of that plea is that I’m driving to Houston tomorrow morning to teach a workshop I’ve never taught before. Fortunately, I’ve taken the workshop many many times and know what it’s like to go through the process. The workshop is Candace Havens’ REVISION HELL. She changed my writing life first and quickly became one of those friends whose hugs make you all squishy and warm and take you to the brink of tears just from the love she pours into them. How could I not help her, with all that she’s done for me?

So tomorrow evening I will be in Houston, teaching for the Houston Bay Area RWA. Here are the details should you be in the area and interested:
Kirkmont MUD Building
10102 Blackhawk Road
Houston, TX 77089
Meetings are held on the third Tuesday of each month, and begin at 7:30 PM, with social time starting at 7:15 PM.

Tell me, what friends mean the most to you? Why? Have you told them they’re important to you?

Come back Wednesday for a Writerly Writ from my Fab Feature!

My good friend Shayla Black has a new book out. Give it a try if you dare.

DELICIOUS
Berkley Heat
ISBN: 978-0425232422
Release Date: March 2
BUY NOW: Amazon | B&N

BLURB:

He can’t control his desire.

Luc Traverson’s entire future is planned out—but there is one very sexy obstacle in his path: Alyssa Devereaux . She’s a former exotic dancer turned strip club owner and restaurateur. Recently, Alyssa and Luc shared one night of wild abandon that left Luc terrified by his loss of self-control—and Alyssa desperate for more.

And that’s just the way she wants it.

Fulfilling a promise, Luc is the guest chef for Alyssa’s restaurant debut. The sight of her makes Luc wild, so how can he survive a week without letting loose and ravaging her—especially when she’s begging for it? Luc’s desire for her explodes when he realizes he isn’t the only man desperate to have her. But one of the others is deadly. And that’s not the end of Alyssa’s secrets…which are as dark and mysterious and enticing as her fantasies.

Excerpt (Rated Really Hot ):

Until Alyssa Devereaux, had he ever gotten stone hard just by looking at a woman from across a room? Luc didn’t like the answer.

He didn’t have to wonder what was under that little skirt; he knew. Sleek thighs surrounded by garters in some color designed to drive a man wild. A lacy thong that would reveal far more of her assets than it concealed. And under that . . . The feel and taste of her slick, swollen folds dive-bombed his memory and revved him up, as if he’d injected rocket fuel in his bloodstream.

And he had to work beside her for a week. Hell. How was he going to prevent a recurrence of the event he wanted to forget—yet couldn’t?

You’re a professional. Cook and keep your hands to yourself. Besides, it wasn’t as if he had nothing else to think about. Negotiations for his cable TV show were nearly at an end. He had a bit of editing to do on his latest cookbook. There wouldn’t be that much downtime this week, but what little there’d be, he would fill.

Clearly, Alyssa had a way to fill her time as well. The huge slab of man at her side whose cheek she’d kissed a moment ago wore a Sexy Sirens T-shirt stretched across his enormous chest. A bartender? A bouncer? Whoever he was, the guy slanted a possessive glance at Alyssa that Luc couldn’t miss, then glared at him.

Tamping down his irrational anger, Luc reminded himself that if Alyssa wanted to fuck her hired help, that was her business.

The violent urge to dismember her employee would pass.

Alyssa took a step toward Luc, then another.

“Mistress Alyssa,” a female called over the speakers in a saucy vamp voice. “Your turn!”

She stopped. Closed her eyes. Sighed. Bracing herself?

Then, as if the hesitation had never been, she flashed him a cool blue gaze, pointed at a chair in front of the stage, then turned away and strode backstage. Luc couldn’t help himself. He watched her walk away, the sway of those curvy hips a siren call. Damn.

If they had been alone, there was no way Luc could have prevented himself from touching her. Period.

Unless he wanted another brush with his uncontrollable wild side, he needed to forget his reckless promise to her and get out of this job. Now.

Reluctantly, Luc sauntered to the front of the stage and sat in the chair Alyssa had indicated. As soon as she finished whatever the hell she was doing and talked to him, he’d tell her all bets were off. Hell, he’d pay her for her inconvenience.

Because if he stayed, his dick would get him into trouble. He’d have her naked and be between her legs in two minutes. Or less. And that would be bad. He was looking for Mrs. Right, someone uncomplicated who wanted children as much as he did and would help him keep his beast at bay. Alyssa Devereaux, stripper divine, was definitely not that woman.

Suddenly, music pounded through the speakers, blaring with a naughty beat, a wicked slide of horn. Every note suggested sex—the hot, sweaty, no-boundaries variety.

The type he’d had with her and wanted again.

Pulling his loose shirt over his lap to cover his erection, Luc watched as Alyssa strutted onto the stage. She’d piled her straight platinum hair into some wild arrangement on top of her head and donned a sequined bolero jacket in red. He was dying to see what she wore underneath. The way she moved was an invitation . . . and a promise.

She planted her stiletto-clad feet in front of him with a decisive step, then swung her hips, making a sensual circle. She flattened her palm across the bare skin of her tanned abdomen—and began lowering it. She reached down . . . so damn slowly. Luc’s breath caught in his chest until, finally, she touched herself. Oh, hell.

Her fingers glided between her legs, and she tossed her head back as if she was in utter ecstasy.

Luc swallowed. And started to sweat.

With a jerk of her head, Alyssa snapped her gaze back to him, her eyes like focused blue lasers jolting him to his toes.

Damn it, his nine weeks of dating church secretaries, interior decorators, and elementary school teachers showed. Not one of them had incited an erection. During that time, he’d awakened in the middle of the night more than once, sweating, his dick in his hand and Alyssa’s name on his lips. Now, after less than five minutes in her presence, he felt ready to explode.

He had to think about the right F words—future and family. Unfortunately, with Alyssa near, the urge to fuck her again kept killing his good intentions.

In the next moment, she released the soft strands of her hair, which hugged her shoulders, clung to her breasts, flirted with her waist. Then she peeled off the little jacket and left it carelessly on the floor, exposing a tiny half top Luc could swear showed the shadows of her areolas. She stepped over the jacket and strutted toward the pole in the center of the stage. When she gripped it with both hands and undulated against it, pressing it to the juncture of her thighs, Luc damn near choked.

And still she continued to stare as if she danced just for him.

The music swelled, wailing with sensuality and suggestion. Alyssa upped her game, sticking a finger into the wet cavern of her mouth and sucking. More blood rushed to Luc’s cock at the memory of her mouth around him, her tongue slick across the head, inciting a sizzle that burned his whole body. Even months later, he could feel the lash of her tongue, the hot silk of her mouth. He shuddered.

With a kittenish smile, Alyssa popped her finger from her mouth and drew the damp fingertip down her cleavage. Then her palm took over, smoothing her right breast with an invitation to pure sin on her gorgeous face.

Dear God, no wonder she’d built herself a little empire here in Lafayette. The woman was a walking wet dream and did her job well. No red-blooded, heterosexual male could withstand such intense teasing and stay sane.

Out of the corner of his eye, Luc saw Alyssa’s employee, the one she’d touched earlier, sidle closer to the stage. With a quick turn of his head, Luc quickly saw that the mountain in the tight black T-shirt was tense, panting, and sporting a bulge that said he wanted to get busy.

Luc wished he could say that didn’t piss him off. But he’d be lying.

Then, as Luc’s stare returned to the stage, he damn near forgot his own name.

Alyssa turned her back on him and bent at the waist, staring at him over one mostly bare shoulder with a fuck-me look that stunned him. Luc gripped the arms of his chair, willing himself to stay in it, not charge up on the stage, lay her flat, and get inside her again this instant.

The spaghetti strap of her little top was falling down her arm. And that indecent skirt . . . With her bent over, the hint of the bare ass cheeks flashed from beneath the black silk. Her garters were a come-hither red. Her thong—he could see only a scrap of it—matched.

Soft fingers teased their way up her shin, her thigh, and disappeared under that little skirt. Her eyes half-closed, her sultry mouth parted on a silent moan of seeming self-pleasure. His entire body tensed.

He had to get the hell out of there.

Her hands swept up her undulating hips, gathering the skirt with them. She tugged at the little black garment, and it fluttered to the floor. The tanned halves of her backside, bisected by a bit of red lace, crashed fresh lust into his chest, making it damn hard to breathe.

Alyssa had a gorgeous ass. But he’d known that. Luc squeezed his eyes shut so the visual temptation of her bare flesh didn’t taunt him. Memories of tunneling into her ass pounded him instead. Her perfect willingness to take him any way he’d wanted. The tightness of her damp, musky body clasping him. The sweat dripping off of them as he’d thrust deep. Her moans.

Christ, the burning lust had to stop—at least long enough to tell her that he wouldn’t be staying.

Praying the torture would end soon, Luc opened his eyes. And sucked in a breath.

Alyssa flashed him a naughty smile of invitation as she ripped her small top right down the front to reveal a red demi bra that barely covered her nipples. Hard nipples. Pink, melt-in-his-mouth nipples he remembered all too well.

Luc squirmed in his chair—and nearly went off like a teenage boy. Beyond aroused, his cock was so sensitive, the feel of denim sliding against the head nearly had him coming.

He had to leave. Forget the polite conversation; he’d send her an e-mail with an explanation. Because if he stayed, he would shove his long-term goals aside and fuck her senseless.

As he stood, Luc mentally reviewed a list of chefs—female ones—he could pay to assist Alyssa this week. A short list, but a few durable names. He’d send idiotproof recipes . . .

The red bra dropped to the ground at Alyssa’s feet.

Her large breasts were as golden as the rest of her body and swayed gracefully with her every undulation, every step. Those nipples he remembered so damn well beckoned, Taste me.

Turn away! he demanded of himself.

His legs didn’t move.

Alyssa danced her way down the stairs, holding her breasts up in offering. She pranced past her aroused employee and shot the man a mirthful smile as she caressed the side of his face. Luc tensed when the beefy guy tried to snatch her up in his arms. But Alyssa was too fast and spun out of his grip, toward Luc.

The damp spot at the front of her thong kicked him in the gut. He clenched his fists as she danced closer, closer . . .

She dropped to her knees before him and looked up. Their gazes locked. She panted. Hard. Despite his jeans, her hot breaths caressed his cock. Release broiled in his balls, and he hadn’t touched her once.

There was no way he could stop himself from reaching out to tangle his fingers into her hair and bringing her mouth closer.

Welcome fellow Samhain Author Fiona Jayde!

I love reading. Good thing, since I’m a writer . I’ve always loved reading - even as a kid in Russia. We came to the United States when I was eleven, and I had about ten of my favorite books with me to reread. Luckily my Grandmother sent me more with time - I was going crazy rereading the same stories! There are only so many Hans Christian Anderson fairy tales a girl can reread! And while there probably were places we could have bought books in Russian, we had no idea where such places were or if we could afford them.

When we came to California, I discovered that America also had public libraries. I had just discovered them in my home town in Russia- a place which has millions of books to borrow!. Imagine my delight to find that United States had the same thing! And in the public library - I discovered romance novels.
Hundreds of them. With scandalous covers…. And well… sex!

I would devour these novels - I loved anything by Johanna Lindsey or Virginia Henley. I couldn’t pronounce the world “breasts” but I knew what they were! (I am just glad my Mom couldn’t understand English - I don’t know if I would be okay with my teenage daughter reading Virginia Henley!).

I also discovered Nora Roberts contemporary romances and fell in love. Aside from being an amazing writer, Nora gave me a way to experience American culture through the eyes of her heroines. I fell in love with words, with phrases, with cadences. I fell in love with the English language - and this after hearing from my relatives how English couldn’t compare to Russian in terms of words or “color” or phrasing. Nora’s prose - so deceptively easy, but so smoothly potent - could hold up.

I honestly believe that I learned English - not just the words but the culture behind them - from Nora Roberts. (Well, Nora and Growing Pains!) Someday, I hope I’ll be able to thank her in person. Her, and the bookstore owner who shoved the first two In Death books at me a few years later and told me I HAD to read it and that I could bring it back if I didn’t like it, but I simply had to give it a try… And I still keep Naked In Death/Glory In Death on my favorite re-reads shelf

To The Readers: Do you have favorite authors which made you into life long readers?

“Pas de Deux” by Fiona Jayde
Genre: Contemporary Romance, Red Hots!
ISBN: 978-1-60504-937-3
Publication Date: March 2, 2010

One wrong move, and she could be dancing on her grave…

Two years after an injury put her dancing career on hold, Lynnrina Kovaleva is determined to reclaim her place on the stage. On the eve of her comeback production, she takes the edge off her nerves with a one-night stand in the strong arms of celebrity bodyguard Mateo Rivera.

Ex-cop Mateo is celebrating one hell of an anniversary: eight months since he was declared unfit for duty. When a delicate beauty boldly propositions him in a bar, he chooses to lose himself in her body rather than lose his mind to alcohol. This choice comes back to haunt him when he’s hired to protect a prima ballerina who’s been receiving threats.

Despite her shock at seeing him again, Lynn must not allow their intense attraction—or any creepy fan letters—to undermine her performance. Mateo can’t reconcile this coldly focused dancer with the passionate woman who seduced him. Yet he sees fire under the ice, pain hidden by the smooth mask of perfection.

The vivid memory of their entwined bodies wars with the job at hand, but he must keep Lynn safe—regardless of the cost. The most difficult challenge, however, will be keeping his hands to himself.

Warning: Contains jetés, pliés, a chilling touch of danger, and the boiling heat of an unwanted attraction that combusts into passionate sex.

Here’s a question for you. Do you work … or have you ever worked … in an office? Secretary, computer programmer, executive vice president … receptionist? Well, I did, for quite a few years. Since I’m pretty sure my boss isn’t reading this, I can go ahead and confess: a lot of that time, my mind was wandering. I daydreamed. I occasionally shopped online. I talked on the phone (short calls only, really!) I listened to the latest gossip about the hottie in accounting.

Of course I did my job too. But if you’ve ever worked in a cubicle, you know what I’m talking about when I say I had to do something to make the time pass. Since I’m an erotic romance writer, is it any wonder my mind wanders in some interesting directions?

Enter: “Training the Receptionist.” Out today from Samhain Publishing, it’s an erotic novella about a girl who gets her naughty dream job at the firm of Cowell & Dirk … if her two sexy bosses are satisfied with her performance.

Here’s the blurb:

“Training the Receptionist” by Juniper Bell
Genre: Erotica
ISBN: 978-1-60504-949-6

Length: Novella

Price: 3.50

Publication Date: March 2, 2010

Cover art by Scott Carpenter

Eager to escape her miserable existence in Low-Life, Long Island, street-wise Dana Arthur jumps at an entry-level position with the consulting firm Cowell & Dirk. As her training period begins, she quickly discovers she’s required to do more than take messages and order office supplies. Her job description contains some deliciously naughty duties that give receptionist a whole new meaning.

Simon has almost given up on finding the right woman who will please his clients as well as his demanding partner and mentor, Ethan Cowell. No one measures up—until Dana. Her inner fire and fearless nature are perfect for the job. No matter what wicked punishment he devises to chastise her for her on-the-job mistakes, she accepts with a relish that leaves him wondering which one of them is really in control.

The last thing he expects to discover is that she’s a perfect sexual soul mate he can’t bear to share. But share he must—it’s part of his business agreement. Unless he makes Ethan the deal of a lifetime…

Warning: This title contains explicit sex, bondage, ménage, ingenious use of office furniture, lingerie, and the occasional sex toy. Oh, and did I mention the package delivery guy?

When it came time to write a dedication for this book, it was easy. This book is for anyone who’s ever fantasized the hours away at an office job. Sure, you may (or may not) like the work. You appreciate the steady paycheck. The benefits are sweet, especially if you get health insurance. But sometimes, like on a Tuesday when you’ve got the whole week ahead… you want a little naughty fun.

What about you? Do you have office job experience, and if so, what’s your favorite way to pass the time at work (besides work!)

Comment here today, and in celebration of the release of “Training the Receptionist,” I’m offering a free download of your choice from my backlist.

You can purchase “Training the Receptionist” here. You can also download my Free Read, “Thanking the Receptionist,” which features the same characters.

Happy Tuesday!

Juniper Bell
JuniperBell.com

And for your reading pleasure, an excerpt!

I snatched the application and plopped myself into a leather chair. I didn’t have time for random idiocy, I needed a freakin’ job. Quickly, I filled in all the usual information.

Dana Arthur. Age twenty-two. Previous experience: various crap jobs, some waitressing. Two-year degree from Long Island Community College. Strengths: motivated, hardworking, willing to do just about anything to move out of my house. (Okay, so I didn’t actually write down that last one.) It didn’t ask about weaknesses, but I don’t mind saying them. No tolerance for boredom, restless, problem with authority, a couple of hidden piercings and not-so-hidden tattoos, one or two DUIs. Or three.

I attached my resumé to the application and handed it to Bizarro Girl. Showing absolutely no interest in it, she slid the papers into a manila folder and stood. Something flashed into my eyes, and I realized, after recovering my vision, that she’d taken a Polaroid of me. While I was still blinking, she popped it into the folder and left the room.

Alone in the lobby of Cowell & Dirk, I seriously debated walking out right then and there. What kind of place took a Polaroid of you without so much as letting you get the McMuffin crumbs out of your teeth? But I let it go. For one thing, there was something very relaxing about that lobby. It was so quiet, like a super-secret, soundproofed vault. Not a single sound came in from outside. The colors were all bland and soothing. Beige carpet, black leather armchair and couch, blond wood receptionist’s desk. The overall look was what I would call Corporate Zombie. I could totally picture the people who worked there—pudgy-bodied, dull-eyed, combed-over drones in yellow ties and brown dress shoes. Every Friday they went out for after-work drinks at the nearest T.G.I. Friday’s. Mondays they spent the first few hours recounting their wild weekends, consisting of football games and blind dates who wouldn’t go down on them unless they paid for dinner.

Shows what I know.

When the door opened again, the sexiest man I’d ever seen in my life came toward me. My nipples got hard the instant I set eyes on him.

I still can’t put my finger on exactly what made him so hot. He was good-looking enough, with eyes like chips of green stone and black hair. Black Irish, I think that look is called. He had a rolling, in-charge kind of walk, as if he were walking onto the deck of his own personal pirate ship. The pirate comparison wasn’t half-bad, he even had a scar on his cheek, a thin, white crescent around his mouth.

His mouth might have been the sexiest of all. Surrounded by a slight stubble, it curved in a way that implied I know you and I know what you like. He was the kind of man who looked like he had a lot of secrets, secrets you might regret learning. The kind of man any normal mother would never allow anywhere near her daughter.

But my mother was long gone, and I hadn’t listened to my stepmother from day one.

“Ms. Arthur. Thanks for coming in.” Those eyes of his were mesmerizing. Half-hypnotized, I barely noticed he was patiently holding out his hand to shake mine.

I got to my feet. But instead of shaking his hand, I stuck out my chin. “And you are?”

“I’m Simon Dirk, Executive Vice President.”

He could have said, “I’m the King of the World,” and I wouldn’t have argued. I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.” Was there some kind of extra electricity when our hands touched? I can’t be sure. I was too bewitched by his eyes. From closer range, they looked more forest than grass-green, more cool than hot. They were slightly narrowed. This man was taking me in. Assessing me. It made sense, of course, he was considering whether or not to hire me. But, in retrospect, I know he was assessing me for something else.

He looked down at my application. “So, you’re interested in the receptionist job.”

Something told me he wouldn’t mind a cheeky attitude. “Yes. It’s a lifelong goal.”

Right away his gaze darted up to meet mine. He gave me a long, cool look. “Do you plan on greeting clients in that manner?”

“Absolutely not. Clients will get my complete and undivided servitude.”

“I see.” After another long look into my soul, he pulled my resumé from the folder and scanned it. “Interesting job history.”

I couldn’t help a wince. “It’s a tough economy.”

“Yes, but two months at The Lotus Circle? Six months at Chuck E. Cheese? U-Stuff Taxidermy?” He looked up from my resumé, the most endearing frown making a dent between his eyebrows. Oh, how I wanted to feel that crease in his flesh.

“Only one month there.”

“What do you have, Job Attention Deficit Disorder?” Those eyes sent me a sexy green sparkle.

“Undiagnosed.”

A smile tugged the corner of his mouth and I watched the scar retreat up his cheek. Without the scar, his face would have been almost too pretty. But the scar, and a bump on his nose that I knew meant it had once been broken, kept him on the rugged side of fucking gorgeous. And then there was the animalistic heat he gave off. Quite a feat, under his crisp business suit.

“Well, Ms. Arthur, I have a feeling you’d fit in well here.”

I wasn’t entirely sure that was a compliment, given the Corporate Zombie decor. “Thanks.”

“Can you start on Monday?”

“Uh…sure.” I inwardly danced a jig. Hired! At last! That meant I could skip my Monday appointment at the hospital to participate in a blood sugar experiment that would pay me fifty dollars. “But…silly question, I know, but what is it that Cowell & Dirk does?”

“We’ll get to all that during the training period.” Simon Dirk frowned. Had I asked something inappropriate? “Oh, and we’d like you to wear this on your first day.” From behind the receptionist’s desk, he produced a white box with a fancy department store logo I didn’t recognize. “If, that is, you’re serious about working here.”

What did I need to do to convince him? “I’m serious. It’s either that or sell my blood by the pint.”

He chuckled. I hoped I would be answering to him personally.

Little did I know how personally.

I had this two part poem sent to me today. My friends crack me up! Thank you ladies for the smiles and laughs on my birthday!

There once was a writer named Nikki
Who not only loved BUT dreamed of writing of the dickey
Liked her so much I roomed with her
Has a southern accent smoother than butter
fast friends we became, took me under her wing, so heres the thing
How do I tell her that her book made my mind and my loins tingle
You think she will no longer room and want to mingle?

I do really think she’ll room with you
She knows there’s no telling what you’ll do.
You say it like it is quite easily
When first we met you truly scared me.
Now, I think you’re just a sweetie
And those who know you love you freely.
But just one thing I do suspect
Of Nikki’s own loins she’ll surely protect
From the horn dog call Joy
She’ll only offer them to her own CIS boy.

I’m blogging today over at The Samhellion about The Birthday Rule. Come chat with me!