for another week or so. Keep readin’!

Western romances, that is. All those hard bodies and amazing profiles.

Now, when writing about cowboys, the author never needs to find a reason–or a gym–to explain the hard body. These guys ride horseback, wrestle steers, rope calves and all the rest. Even if they do drive pickup trucks.

And smart romance writers write series. I started my reading with Logan Creed, then to Dylan Creed and ended with Tyler Creed who still lurks on my kindle. In fact they all do, all the LL Miller heroes.

My kindle: the essence of immediate gratification. I finish Logan Creed and two minutes later: Dylan Creed. I just need to turn it on, turn on the wireless, type in Montana Creeds: Dylan and it appears. I press the button and within thirty seconds, it appears on my Home pages, ready to read.

I want…bingo! I get…all the tall, hard-bodied men I want. In a way. Continue reading →

I have to eat it. It’s a kind of magnet, an eye-see, hand-do kind of thing. Just suppose I was one of those sex-o-maniacs! See-a-guy, put-my-hand-on-‘im. Or a drinks kind of person.

Wait–I was a drinks person. Gave it up. so why not give up the candy, the peanut butter chocolate pie, the Chocolate-covered raisins? (Covered with dark chocolate–very healthy.)

See–that’s the trouble–dark chocolate is good for me. Also red wine. But one leads to another; in particular the glass of wine leads to a few more.

No can do.

It’s difficult though. Dark chocolate and red wine are good for a person. I guess that person isn’t me.

But it’s funny. People see you with a candy bar and smile at you. They understand. If family and friends  saw me with a glass of wine…general confusion and worry. No. I’ll put it all behind me.

Do you think it weird to have a plastic pill bottle full of your gallstones in your bathroom cabinet? After I had my gall bladder out forty years ago, I wanted to see what caused the trouble.  What is so creepy about gallstones is that the are greasy. And they aren’t really stones, but made of…

Enough.

After my operation, some friends stopped by to see how I was doing. Proud of my cleverness, I showed them my gallstones.

Elinor! How could you do that! That’s something my grandmother would do, a friend said, relegating me to the ancient grannies.

I was demolished. Not that I let on that I was anything but pleased with my medical decision.

I forgot them after that until the day I cleaned out the bathroom cabinet. they had crumbled to small pieces. Disgusting. I threw them away.