Ann Wesley Hardin's Erotic Romance Comedy: Booklist, Excerpts & News

The Sherpas Will Go No Further...

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 23:18:00 +0000

"There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man...

On the advice of a friend, I recently signed up with yet another online dating site. I'd basically taken a break from dating, wanted to learn more about myself by spending time alone, doing things with myself as my partner, braving the world with only me to rely on. Finally, a few weeks ago, I felt ready to date again. Just date. No destination in mind, enjoying the journey, getting out and meeting new people. Specifically men.

Did I have love in mind? Sure! Who doesn't? Did I want a relationship? Sure! Eventually.

But did I want it now, now, OMG NOW? Not necessarily.

It is a dimension as vast as space and timeless as infinity...

Five days after signing up, I opened a new email. The first word in it was Wow. That got my attention. I might've even patted my hair or adjusted my bra. Dunno. I probably wiggled a little. Or at least wagged my tail.

Stop laughing. Something in that Wow spoke to me. Hey. I'm just a girl!

I eagerly read more. I really like your profile and I'm interested in alot of the same things that you are. History, particularly American history, especially the Civil War...

Besides the impressive grammar and the ability to speak in full sentences, I liked that he added "(not a re-enactor)" because that kind of thing just takes interest to a whole 'nother height. 'Nuff said.

It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition...

...If you like what you read (and see) in my profile, maybe we can talk a bit.

I liked the see part. A realistic guy. And a man who obviously liked what HE saw, or else he wouldn't be talking to me via email. Yeah baby. Pump a fist for the old broad. I took a gander.

And liked what I saw! Really liked what I saw. And read too. Yeah, read. Because reading is important, ya know.

and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge...

We arranged a date. It lasted five hours. No more deets for you!

The next day he called and asked me out again. On date two he said he'd been aware of my profile for a while. I asked him why he didn't contact me sooner. He said it's because he thought -- kinda, maybe -- that I might be The Real Thing. Took him a few days to wrap his brain around that.

My first thought upon seeing him was: there's my boyfriend, and, concurrently, something that's better suited for between the sheets of one of my books.

No more deets for you!

This is the dimension of the heart...

We didn't begin this journey with a destination in mind. Just see in each other a good travel companion. And, since the guides have abandoned us, I guess we'll stick together until we reach a sensible stopping point, junction, or, the end of the road.

Who knows? After all...

It is an area we call...

the Love Zone."

Because Bev Asked

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 09:14:00 +0000

Me and the momster under the dragon at Uwajimaya.

Happy 83rd!

Just When You Thought It Was Safe To Come In Here

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 00:09:00 +0000

Ya'll know I'm cheap. I've confessed it ad nauseum before. Part of my cheapness is an outright refusal to pay $100/month for cable TV. It's insane. I won't do it. The only show I watch anyway is Dexter.

Yet, I missed channel surfing on a lazy night and finding a random and interesting show. So, for $8.99/month, enter Netflix. Not only do I get as many movies as I want, I can also watch selected TV shows instantly, on the computer. Here are a few of my latest addictions:

Who else can't get enough of Jim, that irrepressible prankster? Or Michael -- so delusional, so damaged. A man without any emotional boundaries whatsoever. Yet so caring of all his employees...except Toby. Hehe. And Dwight? Has a more richly drawn, odd-without-being-entirely-ludicrous character ever been written or portrayed?

It's one of those shows you can watch over and over and still pick up new stuff. Oh, and laugh til you pee.

Testosterone fumes, ahoy! This show is like crack to me -- to the astonishment of my nearest and dearest. Hey. Why not? Alpha men doing manly things under fierce conditions? What's not to get hot and bothered about?

Edgar Hansen of The Northwestern is a fav. His sarcasm and mischievous, slightly psychotic wit floats my boat. But he's married and thus banned from the crush list. I'm nothing if not practical with my heart -- Jonathan Hillstrand of the Time Bandit owns those rights!

The other day I told the boss of my tiny, three person office that I was gonna write and ask him to help research an erotic romance, with a crabber hero.

"I'll hold your job for you!" she shrieked.

I'd do it, too, if I wasn't sure to be sucking my thumb in a closet at the first howl o' the Bering Sea wind.

This one took a while to start loving, but as the first season progressed and the characterizations deepened -- as well as the satirical laughs -- I got hooked. Besides, it reminded me of those early days in the Belfry, when we'd line up a chat and brainstorm like crazy. Cap't Hillstrand aside, there's nothing like the creative high of a writer's room!

What about you? What are your favorite shows?

Got any cheap addictions?

Seattle Girl's Weekend, 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 14:54:00 +0000

It all began at 5:30 am at Newark International, February 11th, 2009. I'd purchased a non-stop ticket on Alaska Airlines. I always get in to Seattle at 11am PacTime. By noon we're always at Hill Top Ale House.

I cherish this ritual.

When I arrived at the terminal, I went eagerly to the Departures Screen and scanned it for my flight.

USAIR...Flight 1009...SeaTac...Gate 17...Departing 0700...Terminal A
USAIR...Flight 100987...SeaTac...Gate 184...Departing 0701...Terminal M
USAIR...Flight 10098786...SeaTac...Gate 1,947...Departing 0702...Terminal Y
USAIR...Flight 666...Anyone'sGuess...Gate Pi...Departing Never...Terminal Hell

No Alaska Airlines listing. Nada. Zip. Maybe I got off at the wrong terminal. I go outside and check the signs along the Unloading Zone. Sure enough, Alaska Airlines. Go back inside, follow the All Gates arrow while checking every single Departures Screen along the way. No posters, no brochures. Absolutely no indication whatsoever that Alaska Airlines even exists. I check my boarding pass. Yup. Yup. Alaska Airlines.

The TSA Agent assures me I made the right choice by going through his line. But I'm suspicious. Maybe he's a little bored this morning and wants to taunt someone into flipping out. It happens.

I get to the tiny rotunda of gates. There are some small, but significant, signs of life -- a coffee cart, a handful of snorers. Yet, a quick glance around confirms that I'm still deep in USAIR territory...

but wait...a sheet of looseleaf paper taped over a sign at the ticket desk. There's writing on it. Warily, I move closer. The writing says: Alaska Airlines.

Relief washes over me. But where are the planes? I look around at the smattering of people already there. Do they look like eccentric Northwesterners? I'm inspecting for clues when a 200 pound rottweiler bounds over and lays down across from me.

Two men and two women follow him in and sit down. I make eye contact with one of the men. "Does he get his own seat?"

The man smiles and says, "No. He squishes down on the floor."

I nod and glance away as if this happens every day.

A pug trots by.

A woman passes, carrying a little tote. There's something white, fluffy and alive inside.

Yup. Yup. I'm in the right place.

The flight starts boarding. From behind, a wave of tawny hair prances to the front of the line. An Afghan Hound. By now I'm texting the children, and my best girl Megan.

"The rottie snagged a window seat!" I write, to gales of texting laughter. "Must be the Westminster Dog Show," Meg shoots back. Turns out, she's right.

When I finally get to my seat assignment, it's next to a teen plugged into his iPod. Smart guy, I think. This might be a noisy flight. But I was wrong. You could hear a pin drop around these dogs. I snuggle in. There's an empty seat between me and my mate, I got an aisle to stretch my legs. What could be better?

A Giant Schnauzer makes a last minute run for his seat. The doors are sealed.

My teenmate starts singing...

Loudly.

More like howling if you ask me.

I frantically search for another open seat, and text Meg: "Fuck! Now I have to change seats. You know what happens when you change seats -- certain death in the inevitable crash. Fucking airplane singers!"

But we made it in one piece. At 10:45 am we soar over the Cascades under

The bluest skies you've ever seen
In Seattle
And the hills a-greenest green
In Seattle

Every year FabDame and I fight over credit for the first line of that song -- the theme to that old TV series, Here Come The Brides -- because every year we manage to choose the ONE sunny weekend that occurs in Seattle between October and May.

I cherish this ritual.

This year, because she chose the dates, and, of course, because I feel sorry for her because she was sick, I'll let her have credit. But don't tell her! And whatever you do, don't tell her that when I spotted that sparkling, snow-cap of hair in Baggage Claim, I could've fallen to my knees in gratitude.

This trip we did nothing but shop, eat and celebrate. Oh, and snap our yearly pic under the dragon at Uwajimaya.

I cherish this ritual. Here's to many, many more.

Whoa!

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 11:22:00 +0000

Did the threats work? Blogger let me in on the first try! Hmmm. Maybe I'll be here a while longer after all.

Well, come on now. It's dusty in here. Help me clean up!

Unfortunately

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Sun, 22 Mar 2009 13:40:00 +0000

Since Blogger seems intent on NOT fixing these sign-in problems, I'm going to have to shut this blog down and relocate somewhere else. Hate to do it, have loved it here, and it's going to be a giant PITA. But I have no choice.

Will keep ya'll in the loop!

Hallelujah!!

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Wed, 25 Feb 2009 11:25:00 +0000

Blogger let me sign in!! Was locked out for two weeks. Let's see how long this lasts...sigh

A Celebration!

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Tue, 10 Feb 2009 02:22:00 +0000

Last year, we didn't know if we'd have another Seattle Girl's Weekend. But...

She beat the beast within, and this coming weekend, we are going to rock the town!

Watch out Seattle. Here we come!

The Long Awaited, Much Anticipated, RT Review for BONDED!

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Mon, 02 Feb 2009 15:47:00 +0000

BONDED by Ann Wesley Hardin RT Rating: Category: EROTICA Publisher: EREDSAGE.COM Published: January 2009 Type: Erotic Romance, E-book
When a sassy female challenges an alpha male head-on, he uses subterfuge to win her over in this laugh-out-loud short comedy. The pacing is brisk, the characters appealing and the sex titillating. Summary: Sela Wilson reluctantly goes on a fantasy weekend with her friends, who immediately find their designated dates. Using the worst possible disguise, Daniel Bond, the billionaire owner of the hotel, substitutes for Sela's gothic date when the missing man calls in sick. Sela dumps her "date," electing to stay in her room for the duration. Fascinated by the elusive Ms. Wilson, Daniel assumes another disguise in an attempt to charm her. With each costume, he gets closer to her sexually, but he reaches a roadblock when he tries to reveal his true identity. (EREDSAGE.COM, dl $2.99) *—Donna M. Brown*

The Little Stray Puppy

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Sun, 25 Jan 2009 23:13:00 +0000

Ok I lied. I do have something to say. So sue me. Ya'll know that the minute I publicly declare myself unavailable, and no one complains, I come back. There's something vaguely sick about that, but we won't go there just yet.

Anyway.

Ever have a stray dog follow you home? Or come out of the grocery store to see a puppy sitting in the passenger seat of your car?

My grandmother got two long terms dogs the same way. Every day she'd take a walk to the post office in Clovis, New Mexico to get her mail. Moochie, a brindle, female mutt with epilepsy, followed her home one day in the...I wanna say early 60s? Not sure when but it was probably the early 70s when she died. Can you help me here oh Fab one?

Within a year, maybe less, Lady, a cocker spaniel mutt -- who also happened to be pregnant as we discovered when she was taken for a hysterectomy -- followed Grandma home from the post office. She died too, as dogs have a tendency to do, but I can't recall when. It was close to ten years later, though. I think...

I've heard stories of dogs literally jumping into open car windows while people sat at red lights. I've also heard the grocery store scenarios. They fascinate me, these tales. Some mysterious force drives them to choose their owners. If they could speak, they probably couldn't explain it. It just is.

Like two horses standing together in a field. They don't say anything to each other. Communication is unnecessary. They just stand there and it's fine.

Or like Denali, The Wonder Dog, making eye contact with me across a crowded kennel and I knew...

I recently made an acquaintance that metaphorically feels like this. Not sure which one of us is the puppy, but, in the end, it doesn't matter. It's a friendship that feels on some level child-like, or animal-like. We seem at peace in each other's air space, just being.

What's up with that?

Have you ever been chosen on instinct? Have you ever done the choosing. On a feeling. A whim? What do you think this force is?

This is Bad

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Sat, 24 Jan 2009 05:06:00 +0000

Hey, guys, I see you coming in here, looking for witticisms or pics of Audrey Hepburn (who knew her pic would draw 17,000 visitors? Not me or I'd have posted it years ago). But I am so overwhelmed with Being in The Moment and other crap, that if you truly, truly want to know what I'm doing, either sign into Twitter and follow me, or join Facebook and friend me.

I can't do more than sound bites right now.

BUT, I loves youse!

Happy 2009!

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Thu, 01 Jan 2009 00:18:00 +0000

Wishing you all the best in the new year!

Merry Christmas, the whole Christmas Season!

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Wed, 24 Dec 2008 22:03:00 +0000

As Seen On TV...

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Wed, 17 Dec 2008 23:42:00 +0000

My name is Ann and I'm a nostalgic sap.

This is my "new to me" Kirby vac, vintage 1964. Note the rockin' attachments. Please. I paid muy extra for them.

Everything is metal!

So what if the headlight doesn't work. Shiny!

Behold the most giant, vacuum bag of awesome the free world has ever seen! It drives like a Mercedes, costs less than a plastic Dirt Devil from Target, makes me want to wear pearls, heels and a frilly apron, is friendly to the environment, smells like grandma's house...

and, a year from now when you see me out by the dumpster, beating the bag clean, remind me of all this awesomeness.

Kthxbye.

More Reviews for Bonded

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Sun, 14 Dec 2008 22:30:00 +0000

Romance Junkies gave Bonded 4 1/2 stars, and Romantic Times gave it 4 stars!

Unfortunately, only members can read the RT review online until two months have passed, or in the magazine when it arrives in the mail. I'm not a member anymore :(

If there's anyone out there who is, and would kindly forward me the review, I'll post it here and love you 4evah. Promise!

Pssst, kid. I got sumpthin' for ya...

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 16:24:00 +0000

I really, really wonder who his fence is...

Man charged in theft of 77 books

Posted in News on Monday, December 8th, 2008 at 10:17 pm by Bill Devlin

Brodous J. Peterkin 48, may or may not be a bookworm, but Upper Moreland police said the Trenton man certainly is a book thief.

They have a bag of 77 books to prove it.

Peterkin was arrested Saturday in Abington after police said he fled the Barnes & Noble bookstore on Park Avenue in Willow Grove without paying for the books valued at $1,578.45.

According to police, Peterkin entered the store with an empty gray bag and walked throughout the store. A store manager became suspicious and followed Peterkin. When Peterkin left the store an alarm sounded.

Another Barnes & Noble employee told police that Peterkin got into a van with a New Jersey license plate. Abington police stopped the van on Old York Road and The Fairway, and the store employee was brought to the scene to identify Peterkin.

Peterkin was charged with a felony because he had two prior convictions for retail theft. Peterkin, who was placed in Montgomery County Prison, will have his preliminary hearing on Monday in Willow Grove.

Weekend Wackiness

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 03:14:00 +0000

Been catching up with High School friends on Facebook!

Join us and friend me if you haven't already.

Being In The Moment

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Thu, 27 Nov 2008 01:28:00 +0000

I've made one New Year's resolution that stuck. I like to imagine that's one more than anyone else in the world. If you can best me, speak up! I'd love to hear about more disciplined people than I...so I can shoot you in your sleep.

I'm serious.

Anyway. What happened was this: I turned forty. And no, I'm not gonna tell how long ago that was. Suffice to say, the resolution I made that year has stuck, and I'm incredibly happy and content because of it.

After FabDame got sick I made another resolution. While not technically a New Year's one, it happened close enough to almost count. I decided that henceforth, I was going to live in the moment. Neither thinking of the past or the future (with the exception of a secure retirement portfolio, so sue me) only the NOW. After all, now is all we have. Truly, it is. As soon as you blink its gone and there's only, guess what? Another now.

I have to say I've been pretty good at it! Was kinda surprised since for the last several years I'd been caught up in the dream of getting and staying published...future living at its best! The dream that might never come! The pot of gold over the rainbow.

But I've lived in The Now for quite a while and have come to love the details you notice while in it--things like the changing light throughout the day, a laugh with an unpleasant stranger, the sound of a dead, skittering leaf, the musty smell of a vintage vacuum cleaner (which I'll expand on in another post), a glass of ice cold water, an elephant bell, a camel bell--any bell. Friendship bracelets given to me by Elizabeth Gilbert. Even the mundane puzzle of engineering a hundred dirty glasses into an undersized dishwasher.

Don't look at me like that! Did you expect me to say raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens? Ya'll know me better than that. But, hey, we could learn alot from that song.

These are the things that make up our lives and if we can't engage with them on some level, we'll never enjoy very much.

So, I've lived in the moment. Problem was, I haven't written a damn thing. Not. A. Damn. Thing. For almost a year. And it pains me to publicly admit that, even though ya'll know I haven't even blogged much. I've been too busy in the moment! The moment, people!

Another reason I heven't written is that the project I'm aching to write is so huge and intimidating I got paralyzed. Not blocked. Paralyzed. Catatonic. Frozen in fear.

But guess what? Tonight I met DIP at our coffee shop for a writing session. Beforehand, I made him painfully aware of my dilemma: I haven't been writing, don't know if I'll ever write again, I need to write, love to write, but have no will, blah blah whine blah blah blah-dee-fucking-blah.

Yet, in one hour I wrote a normal day's word count -- on the huge, honkin' kick-ass scary project I've been avoiding for about two years now.

How did I do this? Hell if I knew. Until I suddenly paused at the keyboard and looked over at DIP. "I'm living in the moment with my characters."

He nodded. "I was just talking about that with my crime writer friends."

I did it by being in the moment. By not thinking about the future, or how many words I had to write, how many plot points to hit, characters to introduce, facts to keep straight, research to do, who to market the story to, if I'd need an agent, if I could even write something this big.

I did it one word at a time. Living in my heroine's moment. How the sun felt, the growing humidity, a silky dog's fur, a fleeting fear, suspicion, lust, worry, disbelief. A toothbrush. A can of Barbasol. Some OCD.

One moment at a time.

That's how all stories get written. How are you gonna write yours?

This One Time in Band Camp...

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Wed, 05 Nov 2008 23:37:00 +0000

So my friend Meg and I met these hilarious guys the other night -- cry-laughing, side-splitting, fun-a-rama, wanna-see-them-again-so-bad kinda guys.

We had decided to go "out of town" for the evening, in other words, hit different places, shake things up a little. Our town is small. We see the same people every. single. weekend. It's boring after a while, you know?

Anyway. We cruise down to a pub a few miles away, drink a beer, have some food. Meg attracts the eye of a cutie across the bar. As soon as I go to the bathroom -- because God forbid he'd have my penetrating blue stare upon him -- he makes his move and exchanges numbers with her. We're stoked as we walk out to her car. See what going out of town can do??

Full of ourselves, we decide to stop at another pub on the way back to a local bar we've never been to together. We find a parking spot, park (d'oh) and head in. All of a sudden we hear a voice bellow, "We just got kicked out!" I turn and spot what looks like two frat boys hulking in the parking lot. Big frat boys. Mentally, I dismiss them. But...

Is it the writer in me? The asker? The wonderer? Do I always have to acknowledge people when spoken to? Will my curiosity someday kill me? Am I too nice to ignore two sauced idiots in the parking lot of Houlihans? Or did I have a feeling...

Obviously all of the above. Or at least one.

"Why?" I ask, turning and taking a step toward them.

"There's a wedding party in there," one of them says. He looks older up close. Something tells me he's about my age. The other one looks younger. And hotter. And younger. As it turns out he is, but not by too much.

"Who the hell has a wedding party at Houlihans?"

Meg laughs.

"I know!" one of them bellows.

"I'm not going in there if there's a wedding party."

"Where are you going?"

I name the diviest bar in town.

Meg falls down laughing. Literally.

They follow us up there. Wind up being two responsible, thoughtful, smart, funny, sexy, gainfully employed, funny, and did I mention sexy, guys?

We end up having the. most. fun. we've had in years. Literally. Hours of playing pool, aching laughter, dancing, high school antics, phone calls that night to make sure we got home ok, a day later, declarations of we have GOT to do this again -- how they'd been laughing and reminiscing about meeting me and Meg.

Romance? Maybe. Who cares? It was so. much. fun.

All with these two guys who picked us up in the parking lot of Houlihans. And how we let them.

A feeling. A risk. Taking a chance on fate.

This one time at band camp.

What's yours?

Current Events

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 13:27:00 +0000

Here are a few gut reactions from recent days:

To: Friends up and quitting their jobs:

Are you mad, people? In this depression, I mean economic crisis, WTF?

Monday Secret: To The Nice Dental Hygienist:

You asked me why my gums were so much healthier than last time. I told you I'd been flossing more. I lied to please you. The truth is, I'm less stressed. I wish I had told you that!

To: Some male friends telling me I'm too emotional, and others telling me I'm not emotional enough:

Come closer, then, bite me.

Re: Dexter:

Serial killers make the bestest boyfriends evah.

wie Sie tun Sie, gehen zu sagen der Abstand auf Deutsch?

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Thu, 02 Oct 2008 16:03:00 +0000

Oh mein Gott! Going The Distance has been released in Germany. Take a gander:

Going The Distance

Here's a literal translation of my author bio: “ANN WESLEY HARDIN buildup on Long Iceland as a daughter of a pilot and loves since then aviation. As a child it conversed” with the secret natures in the walls of its children's room “plentifully fertile soil for the writer career.

No wonder I've had 17,000 website hits from Germany these past couple of days *gg*

Say It Ain't So...

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Sat, 27 Sep 2008 19:36:00 +0000

A powerful spirit has moved on. Kinda unreal. Sounds strange but to me he seemed like a super-human who would go on and on. Thanks to celluloid and his amazing charity work, he will.

Wow. I'm seriously going to miss his presence in the world.

All A-Twitter!

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 13:19:00 +0000

I've gone and joined Twitter! Now ya'll can sign up for inane snippets of my daily world. How about that?

Go see!

http://twitter.com/annwesleyhardin

Rent-a-Rant

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 00:05:00 +0000

For the second time in two days, car rental customers have accused me of not disclosing some of the terms of the rental agreement. K, fine.

You didn't listen to my spiel in person the same way you don't listen to a greeting on the phone. You're too impatient to get out and go about your all important day to understand that we're giving you the keys to a 30,000 dollar piece of equipment. You're also too dumb to realize that you do have to answer some questions and prove you will bring it back before we'll surrender it to you.

K, fine.

Now, I've been in some sort of service job my whole frickin' life. I know how to defuse most explosive situations. But what I've got here, lately, is a whole different ball game.

First let me tell you how both of these men, YES MEN, accused me of not telling them A) that the collision damage waiver fee was 15.00/day, and B) that the fee for an additional driver was 2.00/day.

We have a speech. A speech. A written speech that we memorize. If we don't memorize it and recite it exactly as written, we, the agents, are responsible for any financial loss to the company resulting from that oversight. You think I don't know my speech? You think I'd risk my rent on not saying it? If you do, you're an asshole and I can't help you.

Understand?

K, fine.

But apparently I didn't recite the speech to these two men.

One year, 1500 hundred customers served the same bat speech, same bat tone, same bat time in the process. Yet for these two whiny bastards, I mean men, I didn't recite the speech.

And here's what they told me, "I know in my deepest heart of hearts, Ann, that you never told me I would have to pay for collision/extra driver"...

...giving birth in the front seat/blowing my brains out in the car/shattering the headlights/stealing the tires/keeping the car an extra day/shredding the upholstery/using it as a kitty litterbox...Wah. Wah! You didn't tell me. Nevermind that I put my signature on the legal contract while saying "yeah, yeah I know" to your speech. You didn't tell me. You didn't stop me from signing and make me understand what I was doing so therefore I am not responsible for what I did....

"In my deepest heart of hearts."

They actually used these words. Both of them.

Men. MEN!!

"In my deepest heart of hearts."

Is there something in the air? A full moon that I missed? Am I prejudiced? Sue me. No real man would say that about two extra bucks a day. Did they think I'd soften? Were they trying to appeal to the woman in me? The romance writer in me? Non. Because when that didn't work, they bullied me.

"I want this done now, Ann. Make it go away now, Ann. Get me your boss now, Ann."

In your deepest wet dreams, bud. Words are my life. Truth is my life. Combined, words and truth are something I'd probably die for.

You, young wimpy man, are a liar! Liar liar pants on fire!!! Burn bastard burn.

There.

I feel better now.

No one calls me a liar. And lives.

What punches your buttons? Do tell.

Eight Million Stories, and I've Written Six

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Wesley Hardin) — Thu, 25 Sep 2008 09:12:00 +0000

Over at the Red Sage blog I've revealed the top-secret mind processes that spawned Bonded.

Later on this week, my editor will be blogging about the reasons she decided to publish it. And no, no bribery was involved, unless you count the fact that she had to fill me up with beer at RT 2007 to get me to understand that she wanted me to submit a story to her. Yes, I can be a dodo. And yes, I was schmoozed! I still can't believe it (the schmoozed part, not the dodo... nevermind)

Anyway, check out The story behind the story: Bonded.