Evelyn is the winner of the free download. I’ve sent Kathleen her email address!
Thanks everyone for playing! ~DD
LET’S TALK CHOCOLATE
Delilah, thanks so much for inviting me to stop by your blog today. I’m excited to be here! I think we all agree that it goes without saying that Delilah is a master (mistress?) when it comes to erotic romance. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same about myself. I concentrate on Women’s Fiction, and you’ll find my books much tamer than Delilah’s. In fact, I only recently lost my virginity (when it comes to blog-writing, that is!).
Fatty Patty is my debut novel, released on May 15th. Patty Perreault is the overweight heroine whose childhood nickname was Fatty Patty. Though she’s now an adult, Patty still remembers the cruel childhood taunts from the very same school playground where she’s now a teacher. The novel deals with Patty’s struggle to confront her self-esteem issues, put down the fork and give her heart a try. But poor Patty has a real problem with food… specifically, chocolate.
So, let’s talk chocolate. It’s like a wonder drug, a magic elixir that tastes great. Chocolate soothes. Chocolate calms. And chocolate can also magically add an extra layer of fat to your thighs overnight. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. When I was in high school, I weighed 300 lbs. People back then said ‘You carry it well’, but I suppose that’s because I’m 5’11” and the pounds were spread over a larger frame. But facts are facts, and the fact is that for years, I wore size 28+ pants. I lost the extra pounds more than thirty years ago, and now easily fit into a size 10. How did I do it? I loved chocolate so much, I decided I’d be better off if I gave it up for good. But it wasn’t easy saying goodbye to one of my favorite foods. According to my research, chocolate is the number one food American women crave. Chocolate stimulates endorphin production, triggering happiness and pleasure. It also contains serotonin (an anti-depressant), theobromine and caffeine (stimulants), plus it’s loaded with antioxidants (protecting against aging).
Here’s a little excerpt describing some of Patty’s inner turmoil when it comes to dealing with chocolate.
EXCERPT FROM FATTY PATTY:
I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, I don’t do drugs. If chocolate is like a drug, I probably qualify for Chocoholics Anonymous. But first, I’d have to be willing to give it up. Which I’m not. I’m not an addict. Besides, everyone deserves a treat now and then. And I’ve been good for so long—how many days now?— and I’ve only lost four pounds.
Tyler offering me that cookie on the playground earlier this morning started the ball rolling. All day long, I couldn’t let go of the thought of chocolate. And instead of hitting the pool on my way home from school, I detoured to an out-of-the-way party store on the other side of town where I grabbed a six-pack of my favorite candy bars. Why? There’s got to be a reason. But at the time, I didn’t want to think about the why. I didn’t want to think, period.
I just wanted the chocolate.
The first candy bar was gone as soon as I hit the car, before I even fastened my seatbelt. I barely tasted it as it slid down my throat and it only whetted my appetite for more. I ripped into the lush caramel and rich dark chocolate of the second one as I nosed the car out of the parking lot. I gnawed through the third wrapper with my teeth as I pulled into traffic.
And now that Priscilla’s finally off to bed, the other three are waiting.
I creep up the stairs, school bag in hand, and slip through my bedroom door. I throw the lock, then flop on the bed in the darkness. Moonlight filtering through the window is my only witness as I peel the wrapper off the fourth candy bar, settle back in the pillows and savor the lush sweetness filling my mouth. I’ve deprived myself far too long. The second gooey bite is even better than the first. Chocolate bliss. I’ve died and gone to heaven.
Polishing off the fifth candy bar takes a little longer. The craving is gone and I force myself to finish. I’m in no rush to unwrap the sixth candy bar. My stomach feels queasy. Maybe it would be better to stash it somewhere and save it for later. But if I don’t eat it now, that one last candy bar will be staring me in the face tomorrow morning… a big gooey reminder of what I’ve done. I rip off the wrapper and stare at the chocolate. Tomorrow, I promise myself. Starting tomorrow, I’ll put myself on a brand new diet. Starting with breakfast.
Food. Ugh. My stomach lurches and I drop the candy bar. My breath reeks of chocolate and I stumble into the tiny bathroom off my bedroom. I use my toothbrush like a weapon, attacking the enemy sugar on my teeth, scrubbing away the contraband. I swish water back and forth under my tongue, around my teeth, spit it in the sink. Somehow I find the courage to face myself in the mirror. It’s not a pretty picture. Hollow, bloodshot eyes; mascara staining my face. I don’t recognize this person.
What is wrong with me? Why in God’s name did I do this? What happened to my resolve? What happened to my dreams of being thin?
What would Nick think if he saw me like this?
No more chocolate. Never again.
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