Guest Post by Gabrielle Kimm, author of The Courtesan's Lover

First of all, thank you so much for inviting me onto your blog!

Your question – ‘how does one become a courtesan?’ did make me smile.  I wondered at first how a classified ad might read:

Career Opportunities for the Broad Minded:

Thinking of making a fortune, and hoping to retire in luxury?  Do you have style and charm, sex-appeal and courage?  Is your sense of timing immaculate?  Prepared for anything?  Yes?  Then you might just be standing on the brink of an extraordinary and highly lucrative career as … a courtesan.  No formal qualifications required, though experience is preferred.  Lack of moral scruples advised.  Enthusiasm is a must. 

Being a little more serious, though, many Renaissance courtesans were in fact introduced to the profession by their mothers, who had most likely been courtesans themselves, and had hopes of being kept in their old age by their offspring in the lavish style to which they had become happily accustomed.  As it happens, Francesca, my eponymous courtesan, is an exception to this rule – as a devoted mother to her two daughters, she expresses her disgust at the thought of maternal procuring at one point in the book:

“Unlike me ,” she says, “(I discovered this life late, compared to most),  most courtesans are born to it - born into harlotry - like that little snake, Alessandra Malacoda, who, if I am to believe the Neapolitan gossips, was introduced to the delights of the bedchamber at the age of ten by her pimping whore of a mother.  No doubt La Malacoda has made her mamma proud of her.  And she plans, so I have been told, to be just as proud of her own daughter.  Hoping she’ll be kept in luxury in her old age, no doubt.  The child is four.  God! - the very thought makes me retch.”

In contrast to the more lowly street-walking prostitutes (or puttane), the courtesans never worked for pimps.  Those who had been introduced into the profession by their mothers would have had patrons procured for them by those mothers; others would have worked with, say, a manservant, and provided their own clientele.  Unwanted patrons were quickly dismissed, and so, to a large extent, a courtesan’s diary was filled only with those men she was happy to see and entertain.

Even within the luxurious world of the high-class courtesan, though, there lurked the threat of danger and disease.  The great Veronica Franco, probably the best-known of the Renaissance Venetian courtesans (and subject of the film ‘Dangerous Beauty’), talked about this.  I include a quote from Franco before the start of The Courtesan's Lover.  She says:

“  To expose yourself as prey to so many men, with the constant risk of being despoiled, robbed or killed; with the chance that one man, one day, may take from you everything you have acquired with many, over a long time;  to say nothing of the other dangers - of insult and contagious, frightful disease.  ”

Yes, it’s true that a courtesan in Renaissance times might not have faced the grueling terrors that an enslaved and drug-addicted modern sex worker is forced to face every day, and the courtesans may have lived lives that others might see as luxurious, but the bottom line was that they were selling sex, with all the inherent dangers that such a lifestyle brought with it.  On top of everything else, too, at this period in history, there lurked the terror of damnation – the courtesans knew that what they were doing, in the Church’s eyes, was a mortal sin.  Towards the end of The Courtesan's Lover, at a point at which Francesca’s life seems to be falling in on her and crushing her, she says:

“Behind all the tawdry trappings, I have to face the fact ... that I’m nothing but a whore.  I earn my scudi on my back.  Strip me of my finery and I am no different from any street puttana.”

What was the difference between a mistress and a courtesan?  This is a difficult one.  In  many ways the courtesans were businesswomen – astonishingly independent, acute, even feminist, businesswomen.  They may have slid into emotionally-charged affairs from time to time, and become to all intents and purposes mistresses of whichever man it happened to be; they may have become allied to one particular patron, to the exclusion of all others, for a protracted period; but in the end, they were at heart professional lovers.  I suppose you could sum it up by saying that any courtesan could be a mistress, but not every mistress could be a courtesan.  Does that make sense?

It’s been great fun exploring the world of the courtesan and discovering how extraordinary they were.  I suppose, that in our comparatively liberal, sexually-emancipated world, there is no need for creatures like courtesans any more, but I can’t help thinking, having spent such a lot of time in their company of at least one of them over the last couple of years, that life is perhaps a little less colourful for their loss.

I do hope you enjoy The Courtesan's Lover – and thank you again for inviting me onto the blog!

Gaby x

Buy: The Courtesan's Lover

Reviewed by Lynn Reynolds

Book 5 “A-Tac” series

Dee doesn’t’ waste any time. The mystery and suspense start right away. It starts with a young woman named Sara Lauter. What does her A-Tac team have in store for us this time around?

Hannah Marshall is seen wearing a wire. Harrison Blake is their unit’s computer wiz. Their operation doesn’t go as planned. They then get pulled into Sara’s mystery which brings back memories for Harrison.

In amidst the evil, two friends take it to the next level. You can also picture this book as an episode of Criminal Minds. I don’t know what type of research Dee did for this book but I’m in awe of how realistic everything is. She shows you the difference between a good author and a great author.

She keeps your attention from beginning to end. You don’t want to put it down until you’re done. And then you’re disappointed that it’s over. If you love dark stories that have plenty of mystery and suspense, Dee delivers on all counts. She also knows how to keep the adrenaline going.

Her male characters are ones that want to take care of their women. Her female characters are women who know how to take care of themselves and can kick some serious butt. One more thing I love about Dee is that after keeping me hooked on the suspense, she has me smiling and chucking at the very end.

You will absolutely want this book as part of your collection. It will also get you excited about having “Last Chance” series coming out in reissue this summer. You may also want to catch up on her “A-Tac” series.

Rating:

Buy: Deadly Dance

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Reviewed by Sandra Scholes

The girl next door is every man's dream, but for Rod Summers, it is a reality. Bethany Briggs is the sort of girl who never found love where she wanted it, and got men she would rather pass up when it came time to let them go. She never had any luck with the opposite sex, but when she meets Rod, she thinks he can't possibly be the one to break the chain of failures in her life - or could he?

He knows she isn't the type of woman he would normally go for - he picks the bad girls, the tramps, the ones who are no good for him. Rod understands soon enough that she is the most different woman he has ever met, and the reader will wonder if he will be able to get her to trust him even though he is a rogue.

At 75 pages, this is a short story for Karen, and it is great for those who don’t have enough time to read as they had hoped. Rod is the wild man in leather, while she’s the cute one in lace he comes to love albeit with a lot of problems. Karen’s description of Rod is an amazing one:

There were three things Rod Summers looked for in a woman: good responsive breasts; the enjoyment of kissing and cuddling with or without sex; and the desire to have lots of babies.

It makes him sound almost the perfect man, as women tend to want foreplay, but not all women want lots of children to look after, so once she hears the gossip about him, it makes her pause. As she thinks Rod is a man who is used to getting what he wants, including women, she feels he would not understand her needs for not being taken for granted by him. He has had so many women; she thinks he might not give her the benefit of the doubt. There are other aspects of his personality that trouble her, but she would get through them if she takes her chances and decides to date him.

There is another man in her life who tries to warn her off Rod, as he is seen as too much of a lothario in that part of town, but as Rod is a persistent character, she might not be able to resist him for much longer, not when he sends her flowers and knows how to please a woman so much.

Karen can write tense romance novels, and this short is interesting to read.

Rating:

Buy: Gypsy Road Series, Book 1: Leather & Lace

Brief Overview: Against all odds, Katniss and Peeta survived the Hunger Games and became the first ever dual victory. A little hope is a good thing, but too much leads to disaster. President Snow is not happy and he lets Katniss know it. But Katniss has already put her foot in it and alienated Peeta, so there’s no help from that corner. Then the Quarter Quell (every 25 years there’s a special version of the Hunger Games) is announced and it seems once again the rules are changed specifically for District 12’s starcrossed lovers. They’ve got to go back into the arena and this time it doesn’t look like either will be allowed to win.

Fandom Comments:

Team Peeta or Team Gale?

No contest. Team Peeta.

Gale never stood a chance.

Peeta killed Gale’s chances in Hunger Games and then wiped him off the map in Catching Fire. You got to love our boy with bread!

Side comment – Capitol sensibilities sound like the Romans’ again with their feasting parties where it’s natural to puke to make room for more gorging on the provided banquet of food. A tour guide called the Roman “puke rooms” vomitoriums when I was at a Roman site in Turkey last year, but I think they had the wrong word? Because the definitions I find online of the word mean an opening that allows a hoard of people to fast exit a building. Anyway, back to the point, Romans (and the Capitol) lived to eat and Katniss and Peeta are horrified by that, because to them, you should eat to live.

What I didn’t like – Katniss and Peeta’s show and tell with the Gamemakers. Really? Peeta, I get to an extent because he can paint like nobody’s business, but why Rue? Rue was Katniss’ friend and not his. I also think Katniss should have shot the arrow at the Gamemakers again through the force field chink, even if doing so messed up the setup for the Quarter Quell. She was smart enough to do it. Why a dead dummy of Senaca Cane? Honestly.

My Top 10 Favorite Scenes from the Hunger Games:
Not necessarily in order (either by preference or in sequence with events in the book)…

1. Katniss can shoot! When all the tributes watch her with the bow and arrows during training and then want to team up with her for the games. Pretty funny, especially because Katniss doesn’t want the victors who could help her win, she wants the rejects.
2. Rooftop Picnic. And cuddling on the train. And hungry kisses.
3. Finnick Giving Peeta CPR. Katniss thought he was kissing Peeta and is so confused. Haha.
   

   I pull an arrow, whip the notch into place, and am about to let it fly when I'm stopped by the sight of Finnick kissing Peeta. And it's so bizarre, even for Finnick.

4. Katniss realizing Haymitch lied about saving Peeta:
   

   “We had to save you because you’re the mockingjay, Katniss,” says Plutarch. “While you live, the revolution lives.”

   The bird, the pin, the song, the berries, the watch, the cracker, the dress that burst into flames. I am the mockingjay. The one that survived despite the Capitol’s plans. The symbol of the rebellion. It’s what I suspected in the woods when I found Bonnie and Twill escaping. Though I never really understood the magnitude. But then, I wasn’t meant to understand.

   I think of Haymitch’s sneering at my plans to flee District 12, start my own uprising, even the very notion that District 13 could exist. Subterfuges and deceptions. And if he could do that, behind his mask of sarcasm and drunkenness, so convincingly and for so long, what else has he lied about? I know what else.

   “Peeta,” I whisper, my heart sinking.

5. Peeta and Katniss on the beach.
   

   “Because I don’t want you to forget how different our circumstances are. If you die and I live, there’s no life fore me at all back in District Twelve. You’re my whole life,” he says. “I would never be happy again.”

   I start to object but he puts a finger to my lips.

   “It’s different for you. I’m not saying it wouldn’t be hard. But there are other people who would make your life worth living.”

6. Before the Quarter Quell when Katniss knows she will grieve Peeta, if he dies.
   

   “No one really needs me,” he says, and there is no self-pity in his voice.

   It’s true his family doesn’t need him. They will mourn him, as will a handful of friends. But they will get on. Even Haymitch, with the help of a lot of white liquor, will get on. I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me.

   “I do,” I say. “I need you.”

   He looks, takes a deep breath as if to begin a long argument, and it’s no good, no good at all, because he’ll start going on about Prim and my mother and everything and I’ll just get confused. So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss.

7. Peeta’s nightmares:
   

   “Peeta, how come I never know when you're having a nightmare?” I say.

   “I don't know. I don't think I cry out or thrash around or anything. I just come to, paralyzed with terror,” he says.

   “You should wake me,” I say, thinking about how I can interrupt his sleep two or three times on a bad night. About how long it can take to calm me down.

   “It's not necessary. My nightmares are usually about losing you,” he says. “I'm okay once I realize you're here.”

8. When Haymitch says to Katniss…
   

   “You know, you could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve him.”

9. Katniss against the World, Protecting Peeta. She knows she has to kill Peeta to keep him from being tortured by the Capitol, after they’re taken out of the arena. When she comes across Haymitch and he says…
   

   “So it's you and a syringe against the Capitol? See, this is why no one lets you make the plans.”

10. Peeta’s interview on TV. He’s so good at these.
    

    “But I have to confess, I'm glad you two had at least a few months of happiness together."

    I'm not glad," says Peeta. "I wish we had waited until the whole thing was done officially."

    This takes even Caesar aback. "Surely even a brief time is better than no time?"

    ”Maybe I'd think that, too, Caesar," says Peeta bitterly, "If it weren't for the baby.”

What are your favorite moments from Hunger Games?

Rating:

Buy: The Hunger Games, The Hunger Games Trilogy Boxed Set, The Hunger Games Trilogy (digital)

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Karen Kelley: Hello and thanks so much for inviting me to your home on the web!

Keira: We're happy to have you here! What is your favorite scene in Where There's Smoke?

Karen: Wow, hard question. I think as a writer you connect with the characters so much and the story becomes a part of you that it’s difficult to choose one specific scene. That said, I would probably pick the scene where my hero lifts the veil that hides Destiny’s past. Here’s a snippet of what happened after he saw her life play out in front of him:

Chance gasped as the vision was swiftly swept away. He went to his knees, trying desperately to fill his starving lungs with air. He’d taken Destiny’s pain and made it his own, he’d felt the demon’s breath on his face, burning him, and it sucked the life from him. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t draw in enough oxygen.

He shouldn’t have let her life play out that far. It had been too much. The nephilim were never supposed to hear a bargain made with the Devil.

Never.

Too much.

It was too much.

Suffocating darkness closed in around him.

Keira: Talk about opposites attract! A demon and an angel?

Karen: Not exactly a demon yet. Destiny is a demon-in-training. Except she was kicked out of Hell and can only attain demon status if she steals a soul. Chance isn’t actually an angel, either, only half. He’s a nephilim, the offspring of angels who mated with mortal women.

Keira: So is Destiny less demonic than she thinks?

Karen: Life threw Destiny a lot of curves. She doesn’t think she has a choice except to become a demon. Besides, she deserves a better life, even if it’s in death.

Keira: Is Chance less angelic than he thinks? **Waggles eyebrows**

Karen: LOL Only when it suits him—and it usually doesn’t. Nephilim don’t play by the same rules as everyone else. Chance is no exception. Sometimes he makes up his own rules. But when he clashes with Destiny, all hell breaks loose.

Keira: How did you pitch Where There's Smoke?

Karen: I didn’t just pitch one book, but a series. The following are my original pitches:

 Book One: A sexy wannabe demon is kicked out of Hell and given a week to reach her quota of one more soul, but a nephilim, who isn’t your typical robe-wearing, bright light surrounding him angel, isn’t going to let that happen, especially when it’s his soul, his body, she wants.

 Book Two: Stood up for the last time, a plain Jane prays for a miracle that will take her from dowdy to dazzling.  She never expects an unconventional nephilim, who thinks he’s God’s gift to women, to show up on her doorstep telling her he can teach her about sex.  Yeah, right.

 Book Three: A lady cop meets her match when she arrests a man who claims to be a nephilim, then can’t shake him once he makes bail.  The guy belongs in a mental ward with all his talk about how she’s going to get shot during a burglary, but then it happens.

The titles were changed so I didn’t include them. The last book has changed somewhat but it’s pretty much the same. I knew editors liked series and I had read a few online pitch sessions Deb Werksman conducted and she always asked about other books. I believe in being prepared.

Keira: How do you define love? (romantic/true love/soul mate - as one or separate ideas)

Karen: For me, it’s all one that grows over time.

Keira: Are you watching ABC's new TV series GCB set in Dallas, Texas? (Had to ask, you live in Texas... lol) What do you think?

Karen: I rarely get the chance to watch TV and had to Google this one. Gee, thanks *frowning* LOL  Now I want to watch it. The only TV I watch is American Idol and I’m hooked! Philip Phillips is my favorite if you want to know.

Keira: What's next for you?

Karen: Two more books in this series, Where There's a Will in Sept 2012 and When All Else Fails early 2013, then we’ll see. There will always be another book brewing inside me. Writing is like breathing. I can’t do one without the other.

You can find out more about my books and my contests at www.authorkarenkelley.com

Buy: Where There's Smoke

Reviewed by Susan S.

A riveting story that’s freaky-creepy good! I haven’t rooted this much for star-crossed lovers since reading Romeo and Juliet’s sonnets. Let’s hope that Kipp and Tess circumnavigate tragedy and defy all odds…soon!

Summary: Frostbite Series, Book Two Tess Jennings (heroine) is working with Memphis police detectives on a decade old cold case. Because of her “special” gifts, she’s an invaluable member of the police department. Tess can see and communicate with ghosts. Discarnates popping in on her may be a constant annoyance occurrence, but at least it’s an expected one. Now a malevolent demon? That, that’s completely unexpected!

Yes. There’s a great deal on her plate. Her ghost lover (Kipp) is missing, she needs to banish a demon, and let’s not forget- locate a girl who’s been dead for 10 years. Can Tess do all of the above? But can she do it without being…demonically possessed?

Review: I’m going to begin at the end. Those of us, who’ve read Supernaturally Kissed, are going to have a jaw-dropping reaction to book two’s ending. Talk about leading me down that garden path. Clever! Very clever. I can’t wait to see how the author plans to tie up that loose end, or if she ever will. We can only hope!

Demonically Tempted may be darker than book one, but no less wonderful. Stacey Kennedy gives me that soap opera feeling. I liked what happened this time, but oh my gosh! What’s going to happen next?

Recommendations: This novel will attract readers who loved the supernatural TV drama Medium and the show Paranormal State. It’ll call to those who walk the darker streets of paranormal romances. And if you ever saw the movie Constantine and loved it-then you really must read this novel. It includes suspense, mystery, and it’s sure to give you plenty of fear-inducing piloerections.

Disclaimer: I received this novel free of charge in exchange for my honest review.

Others in the Series:

Supernaturally Kissed (Frostbite, Book One)

What’s Next?

Mystically Bound- Book Three (Fall 2012)

Book trailer http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XXL2rueMVpg

Review-O-Meter Rating:

Buy: Demonically Tempted (Frostbite)

Self published, Copyright 2012, Urban Fantasy/Paranormal Romance, eBook, 167 Pages, ASIN# B007TB5ZF8, ISBN# 978-1-4763-4187-3.

Guest Blog by Sharon S.

We all just love our romance covers. Why? Smexy man taffy*, duh! There are some popular trends out there when it comes to what body part appears on a cover. You can have just a head shot, which isn’t one of my favorites because I am an OMGABS kind of girl. So, a cover with just a torso or the whole man are my favorite. Jacki Burton has a contemporary romance series called Play-by-Play. Each book is about a different kind of athlete. Her latest release is a hockey story called Taking a Shot. The model on the cover is Jason Vendryes.

I had the pleasure of interviewing him on my blog and he is one of the most charming and sweet personalities you will ever meet! This is what he says about himself:

I'm an American actor and model. I've appeared on shows like The Beautiful Life: TBL, Big Lake, Bravo's Fashion Hunters, Dr. G Medical Examiner, Dog Bites Man, and Disney's Ultimate 10 as well as a few films such as the recently released W.E. On the modeling side, I've been in multiple fitness magazines, walked runway for Nike and Adidas, and shot print work for several swimwear and underwear companies.

He can also be found on the cover of Prince of Wolves by Susan Krinard, once again showing off those fabulous abs. When he isn’t working, traveling or enjoying outdoor adventures he is involved with charity work. Some of his favorites are Give Kids the World, Dreamflight, and the Make-A-Wish Foundation.

Yes, my friends he is the whole package! He even has a sense of humor. And I will give you a tip on how to get his attention…bring sour gummy worms.

So, when it comes to man part covers. What kind do you like to see?

Go here for the original interview: http://ismellsheep.blogspot.com/2012/04/sheep-interview-cover-model-jason.html

Jason Vendryes Website: http://www.jasonvendryes.com/

*Man taffy compares an alpha male to a piece of taffy. It can be hard, but once you warm it up, it becomes all soft and chewy.

Keira: Twins! I love twin romances. Are they some of your favorites too?

Amelia Grey: It seems like the first “twin” romances I read were Jude Deveraux’s Twin of Ice and Twin of Fire. Of course the heroines were the twins in her books and in my books the heroes are the twins, Iverson and Matson Brentwood. I’ve always found the idea of twins intriguing. After twenty years of writing and twenty-five books I thought it was time to do “Twin” books.

Keira: Sounds like there's trouble when you use your father's name as your nom de plume. How much trouble?

Amelia: Oh, yes, my heroine Catalina Crisp gets herself into big trouble when she starts finishing her father’s work for him. Catalina’s father is a well-known writer, but he’s a wastrel whose disappearances continuously put the family close to destitution.  She knows something drastic must change, so it is with quill in hand, that Catalina completes her father’s latest parody of Iverson and Matson Brentwood’s spectacular arrival in London.  When the story hits the newsprint, the darkly handsome Iverson is at her door, looking for her father, but of course, he finds Catalina.

When she see the dashing rogue in the flesh, for a bewildering moment, dallying with the rake seems like the perfect fictional escape—and it’s all she can do not to give into the madness of the intriguing man.

Keira: Doesn't Lord Iverson Brentwood have a sense of humor? After all Catalina wrote a parody right? *wink*

Amelia: It’s hard for Iverson to have a sense of humor about the parody because it casts a slanderous light on his mother’s good name. It suggested that his mother had an affair while married and the twins were the result of the affair and Iverson found no humor in that.

Keira: If your characters were real and you could talk to them, what would you tell them? What advice would you give?

Amelia: I would probably tell Iverson to lighten up which of course he does toward the end of the story as he falls in love with the lovely Catalina. He is a very intense man and doesn’t take lightly someone besmirching his family’s good name. I love stories in which the heroine helps to soften the bad boy hero. As for Catalina, I would have told her that she should have confessed that she had finished the story for her father the first day she met Iverson. But, I think it is human nature to put off doing something if we know it’s going to be unpleasant. I know I certainly do.

Keira: When you're not writing you are... (fill in the blank)

Amelia: I’m traveling. My husband and I love to travel to places we’ve never been before. We’ve seen most of Europe and we even spent a couple of days in St. Petersburg, Russia a few years ago. I do have to say the highlight of all the places we’ve gone is on a safari in Tanzania, Africa a couple of years ago.  We hope to tour Australia in 2013.

Keira: What do you love best about the Regency period?

Amelia: I love the time period itself because men were gentlemen and women were ladies.  The clothing is stunning and delicate with fine linen chemises, silk stockings, wispy bits of lace, brocaded gowns, and jeweled hair pieces.  I love seeing the pictures of gentlemen wearing perfectly tied neckcloths, cutaway coats, Hessian boots polished to a sexy gleam, and carrying an ivory walking stick.  I would love to ride in a glossy black barouche pulled by six white, spirited horses. I love the expansive marble floors, and wall scones that flicker candlelight in corridors that are perfect for a romantic rendezvous between an innocent young lady and a handsome gent, or star-crossed lovers. And the added touch of royalty is very intriguing to me.  We have little knowledge of the concept of a king, queen, duke, or an earl, but to me it’s fascinating.  And servants... I don’t have much knowledge of servants, but I think might enjoy having someone pick up after me—for a few days anyway.

Keira: What is the strangest manner rule you've come across in research?

Amelia: That a young lady was seldom left alone in a gentleman’s company. Even widows and married ladies needed a companion with them when they went out of the house to remain respectable. We are so free in our society that it’s sometimes difficult to relate to this strict rule. And it also makes it very hard to come up with ways for the hero and heroine to be alone so they can share a kiss or two—or more.

Keira: What are your current projects?

Amelia: I am currently finishing the second twin’s story with the title yet to be determined. Here’s a short synopsis of the next “TWIN” story:

Matson Brentwood has finally met the woman of his dreams. The lovely, red-haired Sophia Hart heats his blood like no other lady.  Her alluring countenance has stopped him dead in his tracks. But no matter how attracted he is to her, he can’t give into his desire to possess her in every way because she is the ward of the man he’s sworn to hate.

Newly arrived in London, Miss Sophia Hart is in need of a husband, but not just for herself.  She has twin, spinster aunts and one of them has decided she wants a man. Sophia agrees to help her aunt by allowing older gentlemen to call on her and then make sure Auntie spends more time in the gentleman’s company than Sophia does. But when Sophia meets the darkly handsome and intriguing Mr. Matson Brentwood, she knows that for the first time, she in danger of losing her heart.

But there’s more than just an adversarial guardian and a long list of beaus standing between Sophia and Matson. Sophia promised her dying father she would honor his lifelong plan for her as an heiress and marry a titled gentleman. Matson isn't titled so she must deny her love for him and make up to her father for costing him the love of his life.

However, Iverson Brentwood’s story comes first in A Gentleman Says "I Do" which is currently available at your favorite local or online bookstore.

I love to hear from readers. Please contact me at ameliagrey.com, ameliagrey@comcast.net, or find me on www.Facebook.com/AmeliaGreyBooks 

Buy: A Gentleman Says "I Do"

Guest Blog by Donna Del Oro, author of Sonya's Midlife Crisis

Although my novel, SONYA’S MIDLIFE CRISIS, is about a forty-two year-old woman’s marital dissolution and her emotional meltdown—told in a humorous way, I might add—the actual phrase is a misnomer, in my opinion.  Some people have multiple crises at various points in their lives. Any time we face a sudden, dramatic change in life, our emotions go into a tailspin, especially if it’s a dramatic change for the worse. Our fractured mind then searches for solutions and, perhaps much later, searches for reasons why this change came about in the first place.  After all, we all like to have a bit of control over our lives.

For example, many people experience all the symptoms of a “midlife crisis” after their children are born and reality hits them. They are no longer free to come and go as they please, no longer free to leave a dissatisfying job, and—yes, dare we say it—no longer free to leave an unhappy marriage.

Or at least not as free as they once were. In my experience, these I’m-stuck-for-the-duration revelations can knock people on their rear ends. Some people I’ve personally known have resorted to rebellious behavior, like affairs which tend to end badly. Others have switched careers, taken up a new sport or hobby, lost or gained weight, or simply abandoned their families. I’ve known a few people whose childhoods were irreparably scarred by a parent who simply fled the scene, never to return—the ultimate betrayal of trust. You don’t have to be forty to realize you’re stuck and want out, but fortunately the more mature among us “man up” and stay in there.

In Sonya’s case—SONYA’S MIDLIFE CRISIS—her husband of eighteen years is the one who bails. Her reaction, though predictable, is both sad and funny. While passing through all of the grieving stages over her loss, Sonya ultimately finds the crisis beneficial. She gradually heals by pouring her heart into expanding her mural-painting career, all the while refueling her depleted emotional reservoir with her adopted daughter and her good, male friend, Scott. What she learns, that it’s never too late to wake up and wise up, is more life affirming than what she has lost.

It’s a lesson I’ve learned, myself.

BOOK BLURB SONYA’S MIDLIFE CRISIS

Sonya Barton, an art teacher and muralist, has an emotional meltdown at a family BBQ. Her husband tells her he needs a divorce so he can marry his pregnant girlfriend. And all along, Sonya had no clue! So, how does the worst day of her life turn out to be the best thing that could ever happen to her?

Sometimes your destiny happens on the road you take to avoid it. And one forty-two year-old woman learns it’s never too late to wake up and grow up!

Buy: SONYA’S MIDLIFE CRISIS

Excerpt from SONYA’S MIDLIFE CRISIS

Chapter One

“I need a divorce,” said Earl, “So I can marry my girlfriend. She’s pregnant.” He added in a rush, “See, it takes six months and she’s going to have the baby in about six months.”

“What?” I asked, spearing another hotdog with my barbecue fork. Not a funny joke, I decided, impatient to get all the hotdogs done before the buns burned to a crisp. The smoke was burning my eyes, so I turned away from both my husband and the grill. I rubbed my eyes on my arm and made a kind of gagging sound.

“Uh, I need a divorce…so I can, uh, marry my girlfriend.”

This time he was hesitant.

My husband stood there, wavering back and forth, a near empty bottle of beer in his hand. His face looked silly and boyish, like he’d been stuck in adolescence for twenty years. Of course, isn’t that what had appealed to me seventeen years ago? His bleached blond hair stood up in short spikes like an aging, wannabe surfer dude.

“Very funny, Earl. Get the barbeque sauce from that table for me, would you please? I need to add a little more to these hamburgers.”

It was the family reunion, a thirty-sixth birthday party for Earl’s younger brother, Scott. Earl was forty-eight going on fourteen, and as usual, was the life of the party.

That is, until he walked over to me with that strange look on his face. I wiped my forehead with my arm, feeling the heat of the grill strike me in aromatic waves, not in the mood for any of Earl’s horseplay or practical jokes. The party preparations had exhausted me, but Scott was a special brother-in-law. He was my friend.

“Sonya, you don’t understand. I’m not joking. I need a divorce.” Earl looked around at the relatives standing near the grill, waiting for their dinner, and lowered his voice. “I hate to break the news here and now, but Jennifer said the best place to do it would be a public place. Guess this is about as public as you can get.” He chuckled and threw his head back as he downed the rest of the bottle.

Was he drunk, I wondered, or was I? Did I hear him correctly or was the heat and smoke affecting my hearing? I looked up at him and stared. Sure, Earl was drunk or at least on a loud buzz, but his expression was serious. Just then, Scott approached the grill. Evidently, he’d overheard what Earl had just said.

“What’s the matter with you, you idiot? This isn’t the time or place for chrissakes.”

Like an automaton, my head swiveled and my eyes met Scott’s. My brother-in-law, the man I most admired and liked in Earl’s big, sprawling, fun-loving and raucous family, looked at me with blue eyes filled with shame and humiliation. And anger.

Was it true? What Earl was saying?

My throat burned and clogged. I couldn’t speak for a full minute. If Scott was looking at me in that way, then he knew something I didn’t. Somehow I eked out the words, “W-who’s Jennifer?”

Earl’s head dropped, his eyes raking the ground like a kid who’d been caught stealing from the emergency-money jar. Like all the times he’d disappointed me in the past, all the minor and major infractions of marital trust he’d committed over the years. He’d hang his head like a little boy and expect forgiveness. Like I owed him. Like the world owed him. Sure, he was drop-dead gorgeous, a dead ringer for Brad Pitt and the Bartons’ Golden Boy, but this time he’d gone too far.

“S-she’s my…uh…girlfriend.”

After that, something exploded in my mind. I recall seeing colors, like fireworks shooting off in my head—red, yellow, orange, Pepto pink, then finally—mercifully—black.

What happened was the strangest thing. I’d later call it my nervous breakdown. It was like my mind left my body and watched from above as this woman in a two-piece swim suit, wielding a long-handled fork, chased a man in shorts around a pool. During the chase, somehow the grill ended up in the pool, Earl made a big belly splash, joining the floating hotdogs and soggy buns. People reached the crazy woman in the swim suit and held her down. Scott pulled Earl out of the pool and dragged him out of the backyard in a headlock. The mad woman screamed, then went limp.

Floating above the fracas, I watched as Earl’s two other brothers carried her inside the house, my feelings aroused more by curiosity than by concern. I do recall thinking why that woman was being so mean? Hey, maybe she deserved it if she’s so crazy. Maybe she brought it upon herself. Mostly, I was detached emotionally. Like I was watching a French farce from the rear of the second balcony. Or like watching a train wreck from a safe distance. Strangely comical and yet terrible.

When I came back into my body—I don’t know how much later— I was lying in my darkened bedroom. All the shutters were closed, the only sound was the ceiling fan which whirred softly. Two shadowy bodies lingered nearby. My eyes began to focus. Earl’s younger sister, Connie—the baby of the family—and her husband were sitting at the end of the bed, looking worried. The patio area was quiet, the house as silent as a morgue.

“Omigod, did I kill someone?” I asked, trying to swallow back a sob. I suddenly had an image of me wielding the BBQ fork like a knife, sharp prongs slashing downward. But there were no police officers standing nearby with handcuffs dangling from their belts.

I looked at my hands. No blood.

Owen Bronski, Connie’s accountant-husband, attempted a small, reassuring smile.

“No, but you went a little nuts for a while. We couldn’t get the fork out of the wood post, it’s buried so deep. Sorry about that, but maybe you can hang a pot from it and no one will notice. Anyway, it missed Earl’s back by a long shot. That was when he took a dive into the pool. You were going to go in after him, but we grabbed you.”

“We got all the food out,” Connie offered, patting the bedspread sympathetically, “Fed the dog the hamburgers, too. They floated pretty well and we managed to save all the hotdogs. The kids thought it was a game, so don’t worry about them. We told them, you know Uncle Earl, he’s a cutup. And Aunt Sonya’s just pretending. Then when you passed out, we told them you got heatstroke. Not a far cry from the truth, is it? It got to the mid-nineties, can you believe it? What a scorcher for June! Especially for the Bay Area.”

Connie was talking so fast, she reminded me of a windup action figure. I kept waiting for her battery to run down, then I realized she was nervous. Did she think I would attack her, too? I wondered, horrified at myself. I was usually calm and rational. Did I have a psychotic break and turn into a homicidal maniac?

Inside, I was calm. No, numb. It was a bizarre state, I thought, considering I’d just tried to stab my husband with a barbecue fork. But there I was. Absolutely numb.

“Anyway, everyone ate while Scott drove Earl to her—well, to a friend’s house. Then Scott came back to blow out the candles on his cake, the cake you decorated for him. He really liked the scuba-dive theme. He’s been waiting in the living room ever since.” Connie was wringing her hands. “I hope those pills I gave you will help. I’m so sorry for this whole mess.”

“I don’t understand.” Tears began to stream, unbidden and unwelcomed. I’d never been a weeper, always the stoic, strong one. I’d learned to suck it in since I’d been married to Earl. I could take anything, but humiliation of the public kind cut me deeply. To the very core of my being. Pills? Connie gave me pills? I didn’t remember taking them.

“I don’t understand,” I repeated, like my vocal chords were stuck on that phrase.

I must’ve slept for a while, knocked out by Connie’s pills, because my head was foggy and leaden. I felt like I was in a bad dream, and if I held still long enough, I’d wake up and everything would be as it was before. Closing my eyes, I said a prayer to God: Please let things go back to the way they used to be. Please. I can’t deal with this. I don’t want to deal with this. Not now, not ever.

I opened my eyes. The room was still dim and Connie still looked stricken and nervous. God, did I look like the head-spinning girl from The Exorcist?

“Did you know about Earl and that-that girl?” I asked, summoning the nerve to face the wreckage of my marriage.

Connie couldn’t hide the guilty blush that colored her face. “I suspected, Sonya. Betty at work said she saw them together at the movies one night. That was the week you were visiting your family in Texas. During your spring break. But I think he started acting more than his usual strange self around Christmastime. Scott tried to make him end it, but you know Earl. He’s foolish and selfish—”

She broke off as though she suddenly felt like a traitor to her blood. Owen shrugged in agreement. Yep, everyone knew Earl and they knew what our seventeen years of marriage had been like. Yet, I loved Earl with all his human failings, just as I had thought he loved me in spite of mine.

Owen pushed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. “I think it all goes back to his business failing. He loved being the boss, y’know. The bankruptcy hit him hard. When he was back to being a contractor’s foreman again instead of the head honcho, I think it did something to him. His self-esteem, y’know. His self-respect.”

Yes, that was it, I thought, clutching onto a straw of insight. Anything to avoid admitting to myself that it was my fault Earl had turned to another woman. But was it really that simple? Or had something been missing from our marriage for a long time and I was just too preoccupied to notice?

Still, seventeen years of marriage was a long time. Didn’t the average American move every five years? Wasn’t the divorce rate among Americans like fifty percent? Weren’t we a restless nation, always looking for something better on the next horizon? Wasn’t it always greener on the other side of the fence?

“B-but he said he liked his job,” I suggested, desperate to understand what went wrong. “He seemed happy.”

The last part was lame, even I had to admit. Earl was always the family clown, the joker. If I, his wife of seventeen years, couldn’t see beneath his mask of mirth, what did it say about me and our relationship? Connie, closest to her brother in the Barton clan of six siblings, had sensed something was different. Earl had fallen in love with another woman, evidently, and I was just one big cliché—the wife was the last one to find out.

“Y’know Earl,” continued Owen, “he puts up a good front. Always has, as long as I’ve known him.”

“But how does having an affair and getting another woman…pregnant”—saying it was like getting peanut butter off the roof of my mouth—”how does that solve his self-esteem problem?”

Both Owen and Connie looked at each other, then back at me like duh…if I couldn’t figure that one out, then I was totally clueless.

While dabbing at my wet cheeks with the edge of the sheet, I grew silent. They knew something about Earl that I didn’t, obviously. They had the key to his soul or heart. They understood him, I didn’t. Maybe I didn’t understand men, period.

Yes, that was it. I’d lost all understanding of men. Or maybe I’d never understood what made a man tick. Relationships had always been secondary to my greatest passion—art. That’s just how I was made. I resolved that would change. Just as soon as I had this nervous breakdown over and done with, I’d start to learn what made a man tick. What made him want to leave his loyal, faithful wife of seventeen years for another woman. What made him want to start a whole new family and have a baby at forty-eight.

Then maybe I’d learn enough to win him back.

Yes, just as soon as I finished falling apart and going crazy, I’d study that. Maybe the answers were right there, but I was just too much in shock at the moment to see them.

I sank back into the covers and buried my face in the pillow, my eyes closed tightly. The dark room was comforting, the silence even more so. Thank goodness it was the beginning of summer vacation. No lesson plans to make, no student art work to grade, no parents to call. My daughter, Evita—rather, my sister’s daughter that Earl and I had raised as our own—was doing an internship with State Senator Villalobos in Sacramento.

Evita! What would she think? What would she think of Earl, the only father she’d ever known? Already I was feeling her pain, her disappointment.

Nevertheless, a part of my practical brain took note. I had over two months—until September—to have a nervous breakdown, study the problem and win back Earl. Make it up to the Barton family for somehow failing one of their sons. Make it up to Evita for driving her substitute father away.

“We’ll stay for a while longer, hon. Just until you feel better,” Connie said softly.

Feel better? Mostly what I felt was numb. In shock, kind of numb. My mind was working, though, churning through the problem, looking for a quick solution. There was one out there, I was sure of it. I just had to withdraw from the world for a bit.

Maybe for more than a bit. Maybe for the rest of my life.

The world intruded again five minutes later. Owen and Connie were replaced by Scott, the birthday boy. My friend.

“Sonya.” He camped on the edge of Earl’s and my kingsize bed. He nudged my foot, then my shoulder. I was buried in my blanket-cave, thinking I might hibernate there all summer.

“C’mon, Sonador. Little dreamer, talk to me.”

Scott was the only Barton who called me by my full Christian name, Spanish for “dreamer”. My parents, third-generation Mexican-Americans born and raised in Texas, thought it a romantic name for a girl. The only dreamy part of me was thinking thirty years ago that I could become a great painter. Instead, I became a high school art teacher—a career I loved, mind you, but quite a bit lower on the prestige level than a Rubens, Monet or even a Diego Rivera or Frida Kahlo.

“Go away, Scott.”

“Let’s talk.”

“No.”

The entire Barton family made their living by talking, it seemed. For them, it was a competitive sport. Scott wasn’t a successful owner/broker of a realty firm for nothing. The guy could never take no for an answer. He could cajole an adamant “No!” into a “Maybe…well, yes!” in two-minutes flat.

This time, however, was different. He knew I could be as stubborn as he was persistent. I was a rational, sane person most of the time, but not today. Today my tempermental side, usually well restrained, had erupted. That poolside explosion might have been just a prelude.

“I really liked the cake you had made. The scuba diver, all the undersea creatures, the wreck. I know you designed it—it was terrific and I loved it. Glad it didn’t end up in the pool. Tasted good, too. You know, I really like banana filling. Thanks, Sonya. For the party, too.”

In spite of myself, I managed to smile. From underneath the covers, I mumbled, “I’m sorry, Scott. Earl ruined your party. Guess I did, too.”

There was a moment of silence. Another pat on the shoulder.

“Earl has that knack, doesn’t he? Listen, it’s best if Earl doesn’t come around for a while. You need to do what you need to do to come to your senses and move on with your life. Earl—well, dammit, Sonya, we both know Earl’s beyond hope. He’ll do what he damn well pleases. You know it and I know it. Mom and Dad feel bad about it, feel bad for you, but you know how they’ve been with him. He’s the oldest, their first-born, the golden boy. In their eyes, he’s never going to do anything wrong. They’ve excused him all his life, so nothing’s going to change now.”

I thought I heard a big sigh following Scott’s resigned, resentful tirade. But Scott was right. I could expect no help from Mom and Dad Barton. The entire clan would close around Earl like a protective Marine platoon. All except maybe Scott.

“I’m going to spend the night in your guest room, Sonya. If you need anything, call me, but I’m not letting you stay alone tonight. Got that? At some point, you’ll realize you’ve got to move on with your life. But for now, you just need to rest.”

Move on with my life? Is that what Scott just said? How can I move on when I’d just died? Or something had died. It certainly felt like something or someone had died. I felt like it was me—and I was attending my own funeral. And Scott was my only mourner.

I said nothing. The silence wore on. I felt another pat on my shoulder—more of a pitying caress—then the bed raised. The door to our—my—bedroom closed, leaving me to my tormented thoughts. Fear. Guilt. Shame. Rage. They were all there, crouching like demons inside my skull. Waiting to pounce when the numbness wore off.

Nuts to that, I thought.

I rolled over, saw Connie’s bottle of pills on the bedside table, took one and then plunged back into my cave. Counting down from twenty, I got as far as eight…then blissful nothing.

Buy: SONYA’S MIDLIFE CRISIS

Guest Post by Carla F.

GLBT romances are becoming more and more popular. I love reading them! They fall into as many categories as the m/f romances (Contemporary, Regency, Paranormal, etc.) so there is something for everyone. Below is the list (in alphabetical order) of my favorites.

1. Bad Boyfriend - K. A. Mitchell - After Quinn Maloney is dumped by his closeted boyfriend of ten years, he decides to approach a twink in a club and ask him to accompany him to the christening of his ex-boyfriend’s baby. Eli Wright turns out to be much more than just a date. Mitchell is a solid writer whose books always contain such great characters.
2. Dance with Me - Heidi Cullinan - Ex semi-pro football player Ed Maurer and dance instructor Laurie Parker have conflict over the separate classes they are teaching at the community center. In a bargain, Ed agrees to be the assistant in Laurie’s ballroom dancing class. Ed’s neck injury and Laurie’s pressure from friends and family to perform on stage once again cause problems in their relationship.
3. Death of a Pirate King - Josh Lanyon - I couldn’t make a list of GLBT romances without including Josh Lanyon. Death of a Pirate King is the fourth book of his Adrien English series. Adrien and his closeted-ex Jake have been broken up for two years, but are thrown back together when Adrien sits next to a man at a dinner party who dies while at the table.
4. Fair Game - Josh Lanyon - In this one Lanyon also writes about estranged lovers and an investigation. Elliot Mills, a former FBI agent but now a professor, is asked by a student’s parents to investigate the disappearance of their son. Elliot’s ex, Lance Tucker, is the FBI agent assigned to the case.
5. Frat Boy and Toppy - Anne Tenino - He always thought that he was straight, but Brad is slowly realizing that he is indeed gay and is extremely attracted to Sebastian, the teaching assistant for his history class.  This one had me laughing out loud because of Brad’s thoughts as he processes his real sexual orientation, his coming out to his family and friends, and his clumsy attempts to get Sebastian’s attention.
6. Handle with Care - Josephine Myles - This one has a one has a diabetic hero who is on home dialysis and is waiting for a kidney and pancreas transplant. He finds himself attracted to the purple-haired skateboarder who delivers his regular orders of DVD porn.
7. Moving in Rhythm - Dev Bentham - Mark Apostolos is cripplingly shy and cannot find the words when he is speaking to strangers. In fact, he tends to avoid people whenever possible. (He even teaches online courses.) When he accompanies his pregnant sister-in-law to dance class, the handsome instructor, Seth Miller, makes Mark want to overcome his shyness.
8. Muscling Through - J. L. Merrow - This is a funny and sweet book about a man, Al Fletcher, with a low IQ who falls in love with a Cambridge art professor, Lawrence Morton. I like that the story is told through the eyes of Al.
9. Pricks and Pragmatism - J. L. Merrow - Luke Corbin is an English student who like many students doesn’t have a lot of money. He trades sexual favors with rich men in order to keep a roof over his head. When Luke’s latest throws him out for another man, Luke’s friend gets him a place to stay at Russell’s house. Russell is not rich and he is a total nerd. He is also saving himself for someone special.
10. Regularly Scheduled Life  - K. A. Mitchell - I reviewed this one here.
11. Retreat From Love - Samantha Kane - This one, a part of the Brothers in Arms series, is a ménage a trois story of Frederick Thorne, Duke of Ashland, and his love for wounded soldier Brett Haversham. Freddy finds out that Brett is in love with Anne Goode who was Freddy’s first love. Since Brett resists Freddy’s attempts at seduction, Freddy decides to push Brett and Anne together.
12. Scrap Metal - Harper Fox - Since the death of his brother and mother, Nichol has come home to help his grandfather on the sheep farm. They are close to losing it because of debts. One night Nichol catches a man, Cam, breaking into his barn. Everything starts to change. The amazing thing about this story is that the cold, wet, sheep farm and surrounding area become a third person in the story.
13. Stolen Summer - S. A. Meade - Evan Harrison and Colin Williams’s relationship turns from best friends to lovers right before Evan goes off to Pakistan on a journalism assignment. There he is taken hostage. Once he is freed he has trouble dealing with what he went through, and it threatens his and Colin’s relationship.
14. Strawberries for Dessert - Marie Sexton - This was the first GLBT romance that I read. Accountant Jonathan agrees to a blind date with globe-trotting twink Cole Fenton. After a disastrous first date, they try again and eventually decide to enter into a casual relationship and get together whenever Cole is in town.
15. The Only Gold - Tamara Allen - In late 19th century New York Jonah Woolner is angry and disappointed to be passed over for promotion by newcomer Reid Hylliard. Jonah is sure that Reid’s methods will cause problems for the bank, and Reid’s attempts to be friends with Jonah don’t work.

Do you have a favorite GLBT book?

Photo Credits: Nephelim (www.nerobizzarro.com)