No Sex please, We’re Regency Readers! by Giselle Marks


One of the less talked about problems of writing Regency Romances is many of the traditional readership of the genre disapprove of anything more than a chaste kiss between your exquisite heroine and gorgeous hero. Many older readers feel nothing more should happen until they have visited the altar together and even after the ceremony and they have benefit of clergy, that any rumpy-bumpy action should be conducted behind a closed bedroom door.

This readership hope new Regency and other Historical Romances will be written to the same formula as Jane Austen or Georgette Heyer and are disappointed when modern writers include bedroom scenes. Georgette Heyer refused to write sex scenes even though she overlapped her writing time-span with Ian Fleming who included some fairly tame sex scenes by today’s standards. Her middle class up-bringing and respectability made the idea of writing sensual scenes anathema to her.

However many younger readers feel short-changed when there are no sex scenes in their Regency romances. They also expect a lot more emotional input than either Georgette Heyer or I include about my characters.  I argue my British aristocratic heroes and heroines will keep their feelings to themselves and not create embarrassing scenes. I find over emoting a bit wet.

I also think the sex should be right for the characters involved. Books where virgin heroines behave like well-trained courtesans seem unbelievable to me. If the heroine was a widow or former courtesan, then that would be immodest but just about acceptable.  But a well brought up girl would not behave so.

Regency women did not get much of a sex education before their wedding nights and then they were frequently told to submit to their husband’s desires and basically grit their teeth and endure. I have read a number of modern Historical Romances where the sex scenes dominated to such an extent; there was virtually no space for a story for them to cling to. Most of those so-called historical romances miss out almost all facts and details from their stories. When they do include “period details” they are often wrong and anachronistic!

So how should an author unite the two groups of readers with their different hopes and expectations?  I cannot state categorically that either side is right or wrong. The readers are our customers and it is up to writers to provide them with books they want to read. However as writers we must decide what we wish to include or exclude in our stories. If writers are not comfortable writing bed scenes then they should not be pressured into including them in their books. I suspect many writers discover their raunchier books get more sales which will encourage more writers to add them.

I am definitely a traditionalist about getting the details right historically in my Romances, so you might expect me to feel strongly that raunchy scenes should be excluded from Regency romances. I adore Georgette Heyer and have no complaints about the absence of sex scenes in her books, because she was writing from a more innocent point of view.  However I feel the world has moved on a little and if she was writing today, I believe she might well have included slightly sexier scenes. But I have used that argument with serious Heyer fans before and I got shouted down as my views failed totally to convince them.

Yet in modern Regency Romances I have no objection to such scenes, if the storyline requires sex scenes and they are well written; then they need to be there. The behaviour of the hero and heroine during those scenes should be in character with their established personalities. They should be tender and romantic if at all possible and should emotionally affect both hero and heroine. But if you are going to get your hero and heroine to do a strip tease, then the author had better get the details of the costumes they are removing accurate. And if she is wearing a corset and has back buttons, then he’ll need to help her redress!

My first Regency romance “The Fencing Master’s Daughter” has no direct sex scenes and the most my lovers get up to is cuddle and kiss before marriage. So if you do not like sex scenes in your Regencies it is a book that should please you. My reasons for not writing sex scenes in the book were not because they destroy books’ integrity but I felt in the specific case of “The Fencing Master’s Daughter” any sex scene would be inappropriate. My heroine Madelaine fell in love with Edward’s loyalty and determination rather than his handsome looks or sexual prowess. She took some time coming to terms with the idea of physical intimacy and her erstwhile groom understood her fears and was prepared to be patient.princess final

“The Marquis’s Mistake” is slightly more explicit but the heroine still reaches St. George’s, Hanover Square less innocent than most Regency brides but definitely a virgin. My reason for the different level of sexual cont
ent between the books is not because I am gradually building myself up to writing erotic scenes. When my Fantasy series “The Zeninan Saga” emerges later this year, you might realise I am not prissy about writing sex scenes and that I have written a large number of them.  However, I did not consider a full on sex scene right for the plot of either story. I am writing more Regency Romances and some will have sex scenes and others may not, and how raunchy they are will depend on the characters and plot. Regency romances ought to be given a rating according to their sensual content so those who do not want to read such scenes can avoid them.

If you read Regency Romances then you should reach your own conclusions as to whether you want erotic scenes included in the stories you buy. If what you are looking for is straight erotica then there are many historical erotica books available for you to select from. If you are seeking romance, perhaps you might consider reading well written stories that tell a love story with accurate historical details and allow yourself to use your imagination for how they consummated their romance?

Draft cover for Princess of Zenina by Sarah J. Waldock


“The Marquis’s Mistake” and “The Fencing Master’s Daughter were published by Front Porch Romance which has just closed

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Margo Bond Collins – Cover Reveal “Legally Undead”

FRBT Badge Template 800 (2)




Legally Undead


A reluctant vampire hunter, stalking New York City as only a scorned bride can.


Elle Dupree has her life all figured out: first a wedding, then her Ph.D., then swank faculty parties where she’ll serve wine and cheese and introduce people to her husband the lawyer.


But those plans disintegrate when she walks in on a vampire sucking the blood from her fiancé Greg. Horrified, she
screams and runs–not away from the vampire, but toward it, brandishing a wooden letter opener.


As she slams the improvised stake into the vampire’s heart, a team of black-clad men bursts into the apartment. Turning around to face them, Elle discovers that Greg’s body is gone—and her perfect life falls apart.



Margo Bond Collins is the author of a number of novels, including Waking Up Dead, Fairy, Texas, and Legally Undead (forthcoming in 2014). She lives in Texas wit
h her husband, their daughter, and several spo
iled pets. She teaches college-level English courses online, though writing fiction is her first love. She enjoys reading urban fantasy and paranormal fiction of any genre and spends most of her free time daydreaming about vampires, ghosts, zombies, werewolves, and other monsters.


Connect with Margo

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Twitter:  @MargoBondCollin


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My latest four poems


At the end of each day

I write a mental list

Of the things I have done

And those that I’ve missed.

The list never grows less

But I try to justify to myself

I’ve made good progress.


I always want to do more

I always over-estimate

There is so little achieved

Perhaps it is my fate

To always feel that it’s not

Enough. I should have worked

Extra time striving hard to

Write on and not have shirked.


I feel guilty for things not done

Why not relax and have some fun?

Perhaps because I feel my life

Was wasted by being a wife

And mother. Yet I am proud

Of what my children have become

Feet set well on the path begun

So I shouldn’t be glum!

This summer I reach another decade

Time rushes on, stopping for no man

So if I hope to make the grade

I must work, so I can span

The wasted years. God has blessed

Me with talent I must not waste

So that remains my hopeful quest

So I strive to make every haste


To learn, improve and do whatever I can.

Yet much is lost and much is missed

Worrying whether my poetry will scan

Friends and lovers should be kissed

Life should be lived and wishes wished

Perhaps I should be driven to fill

My hours with pleasure and fun

For while I sharpen my quill

My time may almost have been run.


Clouds And Seagulls

clouds and seagulls

Seagull sat on a chimney-pot

Unmoving watching the world below

Kind of comic standing as if it’s got

Knowledge of where the winds blow.

Arrogantly posed like a handsome man

Expecting to be admired.


Clouds decorate the sky behind him

Moving so slowly they appear still

Promising weather dark and grim

The seagull looks like he could kill

The clouds and rule the world

For centuries to come.


The gull moves from one pot to another

Still poised ignoring the clouds at bay

Standing sentry for wife or mother?

Uniform smart of white and grey.

Yet ominous as a harbinger of bad

Weather long expected.


Another seagull flies and he follows

Is she late, getting ready for your date?

Swooping, soaring above like swallows

Acrobatically turning a figure eight

With pride and dignity they wheel

Dismissing my insults.


My car is decorated with their love

Precision bombing from above

The clouds will soon soak the scene

And leave my car sparkling clean.

Do the seagulls know I wish them gone

From my vicinity?


Yet I am jealous as they soar high

Do they despise me stuck here on earth

And wish me a special goodbye?

Or consider me of so little worth

They dance in the sky for simple joy

Ignoring my existence?


No poem todayRonnie O'Sullivan

I won’t write a poem today

I have not got enough time

Or anything much to say

That is worth making it rhyme!


The poems I’ve written recently

Are really not my best work.

I should sit and write my Regency

And not just stare and shirk.


On Saturday, Guilt I penned

Seagulls and clouds came next

Not sure if they’ll ever mend

Perhaps I should stick to writing text.


But the lads tempt me to have fun

And watch them with their cues

No-one can please everyone

I try to resist, I really want to refuse


If I succumb to the lures of the baize

My heroine will not become a bride

The hero with love will never blaze

My dilemma, please do not deride


Me. Most days I work really hard

And write whatever they tell me to

But today I fear being tarred

With feathers for what I want to do!


I know I should stir my witch’s brew

And let my characters fly or swim

But temptation lurks, I can’t pooh pooh

The longing to succumb to a whim.


So please forgive me if I am torn

With desire to watch snooker on TV

Rather than write lovers forlorn

But I can see Ronnie’s on a spree!



Mystic MistMannanan mac Lir

Mannanan son of Lir has woven his magic brought the mist

The Isle now blanketed, with a single flourish of his wrist

No birds cry out in shrouds of bandaging white

The sun cannot reach through and is lost from sight.

Houses, cars, roads, people, all have vanished

Sounds are muffled, the island banished

Into fae, as Mannanan shields us from the day.


Five nations should be seen,

From Snaefell’s pinnacle

Surrounded by a sea of green

Now none are visible.

All the land that is in sight

Is draped with air of ghostly white

Sight and sound are locked away

Now we are descending into fae.


If fairies danced right in front of me,

I would not doubt what I did see.

But beg to be allowed to follow

To dance along, risking no tomorrow

Let the magic drag me far within

The dance would swirl me in a spin

Of time passing Oh so slow

I would follow I would go.

I would leave this plodding world behind

Treading a measure with fairy kind

Family, friends I don’t even wave farewell

Knowing fae will sound out my death knell

Yet I have no desire to fight

Or hide from those fairies’ sight.

To enter fae and know it’s real

To see, to touch, to hear, to feel

Even though I will never return

To tell the world what I have learned.


Wave your magic over me today

Or let the sun brightly burn away

Your foggy mist and leave the Isle

To bask is sunshine for a while.

If your magic is that strong

Let me hear the music of your song.

Or flee foul God back where you belong

You must accept that it is wrong


Of you to bring the magic of the past

Into the future, let this be the last

Time you veil our glorious land

With the magic you have fanned

Making us desire your mystic skill

Tingling our skin with imagined thrill

Only to leave us in reality once more

Dive into the ocean, depart our shore.

Never return for never more

Sink back into your days of yore

Don’t tease us with magic from long ago

Which you won’t reveal or let us know

Keep your secrets, stay deep below

Hide your cards so they don’t show

Or offer delights we must forego.

















Guest author Rosanna Leo

I’d like to offer a big welcome to Rosanna Leo, my guest author! Rosanna Leo is a multi-published, erotic romance author with Liquid Silver Books who lives and breathes paranormal romance. Several of her books about Greek gods, selkies and shape shifters have been named Night Owl Romance and Two Lips Recommended Reads. When not writing, she can be found haunting dusty library stacks or planning her next star-crossed love affair. 12957 (167x250)   KEEP ON KEEPIN’ ON!” I’d like to offer a big thank you to Giselle for hosting me today. It’s a pleasure to be here. Recently, I had the pleasure of launching my tenth book, Predator’s Claim, Gemini Island Shifters 4, the latest addition to my shifter series. In writing this book, I couldn’t help but look back and muse about my personal writing journey. Once I was first published in April 2012, the ball rolled swiftly, although it felt as if it was a long time coming. I was fortunate to find a publisher who believed in my very rough work. The staff at Liquid Silver Books nurtured and encouraged me. However, before that amazing day of acceptance, I got my share of rejections. This can be so disheartening for a writer. One crafts a piece, as well as one is able, only to see it turned away. I understand now I was initially rejected for a reason: plainly speaking, I wasn’t a good enough writer. No matter how much I read and studied, my first drafts were badly structured and had a lot of holes in them. Nevertheless, we love our children, warts and all. It’s terrible to know others don’t see their charms. I could have stopped with those rejections but something told me my stories had an audience out there somewhere. I just had to improve on them and locate that audience. Easier said than done. My advice to new writers is pretty much always the same. Read voraciously. Absorb criticisms, but don’t let them scar you. Become familiar with the market in which you hope to sell. Make sure your story has the right elements for that market. And don’t give up. That acceptance letter might be around the corner. LSB Cover Art Template for PhotoShop   Predator’s Claim  – Gemini Island Shifters 4 For years, wolf shifter Bart Cairo has harbored secret feelings for his co-worker, Charlotte Moffatt. Even though he thinks he’s been discreet with his affections, everyone at Gemini Island’s Ursa Fishing Lodge knows he and Charlotte, a fellow wolf shifter, are meant to be mates. Everyone but Charlotte. Charlotte could not be less interested in mating. A free spirit, she wants nothing more than to succeed at her new career in the big city and leave small-town Gemini Island behind. However, she can’t deny Bart stirs up unwanted emotions inside her. Emotions she swore she’d never feel again. The occasion of Bart’s family reunion compels him to assume new responsibilities, and to consider a role he never envisioned for himself. Family tensions rise to the surface as a new Alpha is proclaimed in his pack. And when old grudges escalate, Bart must stake his claim. Charlotte resists as he stakes a claim on her as well. But when he begins to employ sexual tactics of temptation, she wonders if the only solution is submission to the enticing wolf man. Can she trust her heart again? And can they find their happy ending before an enemy cuts their story short? Excerpt from Predator’s Claim He pushed aside one of the suitcases in his way and backed her up against the sitting room wall. He put his hands on either side of her head, closing her in, and leaned toward her. Soaking up the scent of her talc-scented skin and her womanly heat, he inhaled deeply, knowing she was hot for him. “Did our kiss mean nothing to you?” She blinked. As she stared at him, tears threatened, pooling at the corners of her eyes, but she banished them with another punishing series of blinks. “Nothing.” Oh, she was good, but he was better. No kidding a kidder, after all. He wet his lips and pinned his gaze on hers, which were now trembling ever so slightly. “You’re fooling yourself.” “I’m not,” she said on a gulp. “I’m not…” “Oh yes, you are,” he warned, his voice low and deep. “But that’s gonna stop here and now, Charles.” He moved his face closer to hers, bent his head, and dragged his tongue up the length of her neck. When she gasped, he felt her hold her breath and moved his tongue as slowly as possible. He ground his hips against her, and his cock thumped violently against her belly. She slammed her hands against the wall behind her, clearly trying to get purchase on anything but him. Even still, her hips rolled against his in obvious invitation. “I want you to stop,” she cried. Her chest jerked as the plaint escaped her, and her tears finally tumbled down her cheeks. He moved away, just millimeters so she could breathe. Cupping her face, he stared her right in the eyes. “Say it again, and maybe I’ll believe you this time.” “I want you to…” she squeaked. “What was that? I can’t quite hear you, princess.” Her lips wobbled and her eyes crinkled in what could only be agony of the worst kind. “I want…Oh God! I want you.” He let out the breath he’d been holding and shots of heat radiated through him. Yes! He took her mouth in a savage kiss, meant to illustrate his dominance over her. He nipped at her lips, none too gently, and felt them swell under his touch. Good. That’s how he wanted her. Plump and overcome and ready for him. Always. As he drove his tongue into her mouth, tangling it with hers, he heard her groan. Ecstasy made his cock riot in his pants, and he would have done anything in that moment to strip her of her clothes and plunge into her sweet moisture. His Charlotte. His woman. He’d make her his in every sense of the word, and soon.   Predator’s Claim is available at , ARE, Amazon, Kobo and other e-outlets.

The Circle of Life

By Giselle Marks Yes

I wrote this short story for the Charity Anthology for J.A. Mes Press which has the theme of Re-birth.

shield_wall_bigI wake again from another dream of my death. In every direction around the muddy field are bodies piled high, bloody and hacked to pieces, crows cackle wheeling high in the sky, before plunging down to feed. The stench of blood and ordure lies over everything and I try to cover my mouth and nose to shut out the smell, with little effect. A few of the bodies groan, trying to crawl away, but even my bewildered glance knows that they won’t last long. Women search through the bodies, some for the bodies of their men, but most to strip whatever they can steal from the corpses before they rot. More than one soldier is given their blessing with a simple knife thrust to send them on their way to their heavenly rest. I search with them trying to find my body, to see how I had looked in life, but I never find it. I am whisked away from the battleground and back into waking, unsettled once more by the vividness of the dream.

When I first had these dreams I feared they presaged some violent end to my very boring life, but now I try not to dwell on them when I wake. But I still wonder how I could have been a heroic warrior in so many lives, dying in violence on some battlefield far away and yet now I am getting ready for my and now be a clerk in a big name bank, a little cog in a giant clock. No explanation is forthcoming.

Travel on the tubes is packed and uncomfortable as usual, crammed standing against the bodies of other travellers. I smell the mingled perfumes and body smells of those packed close around me and listen to the beat of their hearts. For a few seconds I am back in the shield-wall, then the doors are opening and we are pouring out, speeding on our way, without talking to each other as we rush to our places of work. I am no different from the rest of the herd of commuters who struggle into town every weekday. My walk is short and I am allowed in, greeting my fellow workers, hanging my coat and making myself a coffee before the doors open for the day. I wonder once more why I am persecuted by these dreams of a epic bloody death. No-one could be less heroic than I.

I take my place as the door open for the day. Customers trickle in and I serve them automatically, counting and ticking off money being paid in, paying out cash and organising statements and new standing orders. There is nothing unusual in their requirements that I have not handled hundreds of times before. A few regular customers pass the time of day with a smile, a joke or a few words and I respond politely. I am the respectful bank clerk who deals efficiently with their business. Then as the morning lengthens and I am thinking of my lunch break in an hour’s time, three men enter, they look out of place. They are all wearing wooly hats, and scarves cover the bottom of their faces, even overcoats on this summer’s day. I press the button without thinking, before I even see the guns. Before they start yelling orders to the customers to move to one side and lie on the floor, before they even order us to raise our hands. The customers are screaming and Anita who is two positions down from me is sobbing in fear. I raise my hands as ordered but my mind is urging me to fight. I ignore the adrenaline rush because already I can hear the sirens in the distance coming nearer.

The robbers hear the police coming closer too, they act panicking as they are demanding that Anita and Clive hurry to fill their bags with money. For some reason they do not appear to notice me. But the robbers look as frightened as the customers huddling in the corner. Anita and Clive’s hands are shaking as they shovel money into the bags provided. Then it is all over and there is the sound of megaphones as the police outside shout for the robbers to come out with their hands up. The robbers try taking a couple of hostages who they force at gun-point in front of them. They leave the bank with their bags of cash, not really a great deal of money considering how much really is here. Not enough I think for the risk they have taken.

I can no longer see what is going on and check on Anita and Clive, but I am amazingly calm. After what seems like hours, but is really only minutes a number of armed and armoured police-men enter the bank. We are thanked for giving the alarm, but only I pressed the button. The police congratulate me on my quick thinking and brave presence of mind. We are questioned and give our statements, but it turns out that the robbers soon gave up the fight, when they realised that their getaway driver had already been handcuffed and put in the back of a police-car, they clearly realised their odds of escape were minimal.

I am praised by my manager and later in the day the big nobs from head office come down and I am made much of. Promotion is mentioned and I am quietly grateful for their attention but I find that I still feel the desire to fight. Maybe the warrior is still part of me. I resolve to join my local taekwondo class and perhaps get a bit fitter, maybe then I will dream no more of warrior deaths and battles. 

Sylvia Hubbard tells us about herself



Today she answers questions about herself and her writing.
Sylvia Hubbard(1)

  1. Tell us about yourself. I am first and foremost a person deeply and devoted to words – a writer and a reader, always wanting more. Words are my drugs. Words are my life. Words are my Everything. Being a mother, a woman and a human being becomes secondary in my life.
  2. How did you get started writing? When I was six years old. I used to lie to my mother a lot and after she would give me punishment I would have to write my lies down. My pain became my pleasure. My lies looked so good on paper and I could make them longer and longer. The only bad thing is that I can’t lie verbally anymore so I have very little friends.
  3. What genre(s) do you write in and why? I started writing first historical romance because that is the genre I started reading in. I was a little paranormal fan, but I didn’t want to make up new worlds. Although I love history, I found that I couldn’t find my voice because it was a lot of research and I didn’t want to keep facts so straight and accurate. By the age of seventeen I realized I wanted to be a contemporary suspense romance novelist and the first book I ever finished was Stone’s Revenge, my psychological thriller, which actually became my 2nd independent work I published.
  4.       How many books have you written? Do you have a favorite?

I have over thirty published works since 2000 and to ask me which is my favorite is to ask me which is my favorite child. My books are so hard to choose from and I actually try to re-read them every once in a while not just to pass the time or look for new characters to bring into other stories, but just because they are that enjoyable. I write because I can’t find what I want to read and I still have that challenge as a reader. I love really all my books. Now my favorite character, and most challenging one, would be Lethal Heart. I’ve woven him throughout a lot of my books. He’s dangerous, sexy and crazy. Just the way I love my men.

  1. Tell us about your current series/WIP.

My current book series is His Substitute Wife. (Two books as eBooks but one whole paperback book.) Bringing Charisse to life with her problems and past was difficult and hard. I could feel her inner emotional pain. Dealing with her family, especially her sisters, the frustration grew to a tipping where she had nothing to live for. Parker Mills was a man who knew he wasn’t perfect, but he craved a family. Doomed to be in a loveless marriage he tries to make the most of his situation by allowing his wife to convince him to let Charisse have his baby. Getting Charisse pregnant with Parker’s baby was easy part. Filled with drama, suspense and romance, The His Substitute Wife… My Sister Series has given me a great joy to bring to my readers.

  1.       What inspired your latest book?

Studying other phobias, I found Charisse condition and wondered if I could actually write a romance with a woman who hates to be touched? It was a challenge and I’m proud of the story.

  1.       What is your next project and when will it be released?hissubCover 600

Betrayed is my current Work In Progress. Cons, Revenge, Deceit and Love can’t mix, but I’m going to try.

  1.       Where do you get the ideas for your stories?

Life, living and observing the world around me. My mind is an open syringe looking for the unique, strange and ominous.

  1.       What is your favorite part of writing?

The initial process itself. When an idea hits and you must go to write it down. Once I start I can’t stop. It’s addictive. I sleep with my kindle with a keyboard right by me or under my pillow in case I wake up in the middle of the night and get the urge.

  1.   What is your least favorite part of writing?

The marketing of my work, but I’m glad I earned a degree at it so it comes a little bit easy to me.

  1.   What is your typical day like?

I get the kids off to school, answer emails/fanmails, chk my socials and then I try to write the majority part of the day while catching up on all entertainment on Netflix’s and playing my music loud to inspire me more. By the afternoon, I work on marketing and promoting. I network offline in the evening or take a class I found on meetup and then I’m back home. I blog, update my website, fix any issues and then I write more by the end of the night before I go to sleep.

  1.   How does your family feel about your writing career?

A lot of them just thought it was a hobby ten years ago, but at least now they call it my gig. I guess it might take ten more years to see that I’m “really serious” about it and call it my career.

  1. How much time do you spend promoting your books? I try to spend at least four hours a day marketing, two hours blogging and one hour working on websites I manage in order to make my books sells work for me. I look at promoting like a real business. If I opened a store, I’d dedicate at least twelve to sixteen hours a day to my business. I do that for my writing career tirelessly promoting and tirelessly writing more for the upcoming year.

What works best for you? Blogging on my website always has worked best for me or being on other bloggers. I’m an avid tweeter and FB’er, but I use those as breadcrumbs to get more people to the website.

  1.   How has your experience with self-publishing been?

Awesome. Since I’m a control freak I love it.

  1.   What advice do you have for other authors wanting to self-publish?

Research and learn what you have to do before you do it.

  1.   What was the deciding factor in self-publishing your book(s)? Did you decide on ebook or print only or both?

Before printing a book, I usually wait until the ebook has sold at least five thousand downloads. Initially I printed books first (back in 2000) but when that expense was way too costly for a single mom with three mouths to feed, I feel into ebooks by accident and once I knew I could profit from them, I have never looked back.

  1.   Where can readers find you?

I can be found on my website at, FB: Twittter:


Oh, For the Love of Words By Janice G Ross

Today we have a guest author Janice G. Ross you can read her article “Going through the Motions” on my other blog page,

But I thought you might like to read this article of hers too.

Oh, For The Love Of Words

 What is this desire that many have with books? Whether we choose to read in a traditional state by way of tangible works or by way of an electronic device, the abilities of mere phrases to transform is astonishing. Can anyone think back to the first time they fell in love with a book? My first enticement was in reading “Wuthering Heights” at about eight years old. Sure I’d read more age appropriate titles before that time, but there was just something about the language that seduced my young mind. And then, I moved from Emily Bronte to Charlotte Bronte’s “Jane Eyre”. With either book in hand, a dictionary in the next and notepad (with pen) on my bed; I became bedazzled by great writing. I would sniff each book, inhaling the musky aroma because they held a promise of life – a life that I could claim whenever I read. Talk about imagination! I would consider each unfamiliar term, look it up in the dictionary, write it out and use it in a sentence to make certain I understood its meaning. I was desperate for stories, and felt my life too simple. And would you know, any life at all would do. I tried not to limit my reading because you never really know what treasure you might find within the pages of a book. And so I read the wonderful “Things Fall Apart” by Chinua Achebe, and a book that I am not sure of how I ever got hold of, “Dianetics.” All that mattered to me was that I was reading. Oh, for the love of words!

I’ve grown since then and continue to enjoy words, books learning and even my own writing. I still know how to appreciate great reading and remarkable words. But these days, I read on my tablet. It has a built in dictionary, I’m able to highlight and comment on my thoughts. Boy, do I take full advantage of those features. This enables me to daydream and hold my spot at the same time. You see, each book offers a life of its own. And for those writers that gift us with work that serves up the deepest most intimate thoughts of their characters, I thank you for feeding my needs. Thank you Paulo Coelho for every single book that you have ever written! And thank you to the newer published authors that have fed my need for words.

As for with my work, I strive to do the same. It’s about what a writer includes and how they include it all. I love to be seduced by remarkable characters, clever wording, and believable circumstances. But then, there is also that need for a story to captivate all of my senses, keeping me alert and aware at every moment. I strive to give this to my readers. I write to make that connection as real as possi

Please visit my other page and find out about her latest book “Loving Nate” or go straight to Amazon and buy.

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