I love when the hero and his best friend attempt to help each other with their romantic entanglements. I mean, they’re so unwilling to admit they’re in over their head. They can’t request help—it’s the ultimate in refusing to ask for directions. Sometimes they talk around the situation, using a sort of bro-code language that only men can decipher. And then there are the times they flat-out try to ignore how their world has changed drastically, even when everything is crashing down around them.

It’s so freakin’ adorable.

In a previous book, my current hero Troy was a bit cavalier about the romantic advice he gave to his friend Matt, a superstar baseball pitcher. Now it’s Troy’s turn to be on the receiving end. Let’s listen in, shall we?

“Who’s the sexy blonde behind the bar you keep staring at?”

Troy saw Matt’s grin, but he ignored it, returning his attention to the basket of baseballs sitting on the table in front of him. He wasn’t ready to answer questions about Bet just then.

Matt took the hint, thankfully. “Do you need me to sign any of these?”

“Nah, I’ve got plenty of the real ones.” Troy picked up a pen and started signing Matt’s name. “These are the ones I give to the real douchebags.”

“What are you putting on there?” Matt leaned forward to get a better look. “Is that a smiley face?”

“Actually that’s a heart. See? Right at the end of the swirly part of the s in your last name.”

“I don’t do a swirly s in my signature.”

“You do now.”

Matt snorted. “I’m never gonna make it into the Hall of Fame.”

Troy snorted right back at him. “You’re a shoo-in and you know it. And these guys deserve it. Like the one who got all grabby with Bet the other day—”

“The sexy blonde you’ve been staring at?”

Troy tossed the pen down and picked up his beer. “She’s not a sexy blonde. She’s my sexy blonde.”

“Well, that’s intriguing.” Matt clinked his bottle against Troy’s. “Care to explain more?”

“Nope,” Troy answered cheerfully. He guzzled most of his beer before adding, “And I’ll be happy to ignore any more questions you have.”

“Perfect.” Matt glanced around the room, completely unconcerned.

“Don’t you say a word. None of this ‘I told you so’ or ‘glad it was your turn’ shit.”

Matt nodded. “Got it.”

“I’m serious.”

“I said I got it.” Then Matt’s head dropped back and he laughed, for way too long. “Oh man, this is even better than I thought it would be.”

Troy slumped in his chair. “You know how I gave you a hard time about boo-hooing when you weren’t sure what to do about Allie?”

Matt rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t boo-hooing, but yeah, I know what you’re saying.”

“Well, I should apologize for that, but I won’t.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Thanks. Anyway, I get it now. What you were going through. Because I’m kinda going through it myself.”

Matt shook his head as if he’d just gotten beaned by a 90-mile-an-hour fastball. “Wait a minute. It sounds like you’re admitting to having feelings for a woman. Feelings way way above your jockstrap—”

“Hey! I have jockstrap feelings for her too. It’s just that they’re getting all mixed in with these other ones. And I’m not sure what to do.”

“I could say what you said to me,” Matt offered. “Something about she sounds fun and give me her phone number.”

“Allie’s gonna smack you, and then I’m gonna do the same. I need you to take me seriously here.”

“I am. And you know what you gotta do. You just gotta do it.”

Troy groaned. “Please tell me I was more helpful than that.”

~~~~~

Bio:

I have worked as an attorney, winery tasting room manager, and retail business owner, but nothing beats the thrill of writing humorously-ever-after romances.

I reside in New England, although I fantasize about spending the rest of my days in a tropical locale, wearing flip flops year-round, or in Regency London, scandalizing the ton.

I can usually be found on Twitter, talking about writing and coffee, and on Facebook, talking about coffee and writing.

Links:

Website: http://www.AllAboutTheWriting.com
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/LRgT5
Twitter: https://twitter.com/BookEmDonna
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5349107.Donna_Cummings
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/Donna.Cummings.Author
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/bookemdonna/

HEARTBREAKER’S BET

I need someone to help me become a heartbreaker. And I’ve picked you.

Bettina Knox’s dating life was a disaster. What she needed was some expert instruction on becoming the love-’em-and-leave-’em type. Luckily she found the perfect man for the job—a professional-grade flirter, adored by every woman he encountered. It was all fun and games until she started falling for her way-too-sexy teacher.

So you want me to give you all my secrets for breaking hearts. Even though I’m not convinced I’ve ever broken any.

Troy Callahan thought he’d heard it all in his years of owning a popular sports pub. Then this sweet, sassy woman waltzed up insisting he was going to teach her how to break hearts. He’d been a wingman forever, so why not help her unleash her inner bad girl? There was just one problem: turning Bet into a heartbreaking assassin had somehow put his own heart at risk.

Amazon ~ Apple ~ B&N ~ Kobo

UPDATE: The winner of the free download is…Deb Daniel!

* * * * *

This is for those of you currently buried in snow. Pretty, isn’t it? I’d love to lie in a hammock tied between those two bent palms and hang a foot outside to rock myself in the warm island breeze…

But then, they’re leaning so badly that the moment I managed to ungracefully climb into the rope hammock, they’d both be uprooted and topple onto me. I’d spend the rest of my vacation in intensive care at the island hospital where a mosquito would bite me and I’d contract dengue fever, which would turn into dengue hemorrhagic fever (because I always have to be a 1%-er, right?)…and then I’d die…

Yeah, I’m ready for winter to be over. No one can make me smile…except maybe you! Ready for a fun contest?

Take the same concept—you, doing something ordinary, and then adding “…and then I die…” Make it over-the-top or completely deadpan. Have fun! Every comment counts as an entry to win! And since you’re snowed in with enough accumulation on the roof to cave it in, you have a great place to start!

Oh, and the prize will be a free book—a download of any of my most recent releases. Have fun. And stay warm!

UPDATE: Brenda Taylor is giving Donamurree Holmes a free copy of Highland Pearl!

* * * * *

Thank you Delilah, for hosting me on your fantastic blog today, and giving me the opportunity to introduce a new sweet romance in the Highland Treasures series. The series is set in the 16^th century Scottish Highlands. I will give away a digital copy of A Highland Pearl, the first book of the series to a commenter. A Highland Ruby is available for pre-order and the information is included in this post.

The Highland Pony

The Highland pony or garron (English) and gearran (Gaelic) is a hearty pony bred in the Scottish Highlands. The pony is one of the oldest breeds in Great Britain. Some maintain that the Highland Pony is descended from the ancient wild horses that migrated from Asia in the Ice Age. The breed is known for its great strength and docility. The garron was traditionally used as an all-purpose pony by the Crofters, tenant farmers. It is also used by deer hunters as a sure-footed carrier of game from the steep, rugged mountains.

Most Highlanders in the 16th century, the time of A Highland Ruby, rode garrons. The Highland ponies were used for war and work during the Highland clan period. Some of the nobility and clan chiefs may have imported horses from continental Europe, but at great expense. Many times the imported horses were bred with the garrons to introduce various bloodlines into the breed.

In A Highland Ruby, Chief Andrew Munro, rides a black Friesian war horse or steud (Gaelic) imported from the Netherlands. His brother, Gavin, rides a steud of a Friesian and garron mix. Possibly, Chief Andrew breeds his stallion, Scara, with a garron to produce a breed of greater statue and strength, yet with the temperament and mobility necessary for use in the Highlands. Other mounted warriors in the story and Flora ride garrons.

The Highland pony is a native Scottish pony, and is one of the largest of the mountain and moorland pony breeds of the British Isles. It was once a workhorse in the Scottish mainland and islands, but today is used for driving, trekking and general riding. They are very hardy and tough, they rarely require shoeing, and are very economical to keep. They are generally free from many equine diseases.

The Highland Pony is one of the three native breeds of the Scottish Highlands and Islands, the others are the Shetland pony and the Eriskay pony. Over many centuries the breed has adapted to the variable and often severe climatic and environmental conditions of Scotland. The winter coat consists of a layer of strong badger-like hair over a soft dense undercoat, which enables this breed of pony to live out in all types of weather. This coat is shed in the spring to reveal a smooth summer coat. This essential hardiness is combined with a kindly nature and even temperament.

A Highland Ruby

She must choose between a life of adventure with the man she loves or a settled, secure life with her betrothed. Flora Vass forced Gavin Munro out of her heart and mind until he returned to Scotland after an adventurous five years in the New World. Gavin leaves no doubt he returned to make the bonnie Flora his own and intends to fight for her. Flora’s betrothed, Iain MacKay, and Gavin’s brother, Chief Andrew Munro, have other plans. Andrew needs her to marry the MacKay and bring peace between the two clans. Iain MacKay desires an heir. War with England looms on the horizon, forcing Flora to make crucial decisions.

A Highland Ruby Excerpt:

A band of warriors on steuds broke through the trees and approached the place where Gavin sat. The deerhound ran ahead of them with his long legs flying. The animal ran to Gavin and licked his wounded leg. He pushed the large shaggy head away, then took a step to meet his brother. Andrew, with his untied raven hair flying, reined in his horse, dismounted, and hastened to Gavin.

“Brother, what have you gotten yourself into this time?” he asked, picking up Gavin’s arm and examining the bloody bandage. “Bha sibh treun thar glòir.” Andrew’s grey eyes darkened with emotion as he searched Gavin’s.

“Aye,” the warriors agreed in unison.

“He was brave beyond praise,” Erskin added.

Stepping back Andrew said, “We brought you a fine horse to ride.” He motioned to the large grey steud Erskin led—Gavin’s warhorse he had left behind at Fàrdach five years earlier. Maith appeared the same except for a few more grey hairs around his nose.

Gavin nodded toward the luchd-taighe.  Erskin immediately dismounted. “Sir Gavin, may I assist you in mounting the horse?” One corner of his mouth turned up and a twinkle lit his eye. “I imagined you were hiding with the band of outlaws. Instead you’re out here in the forest of Fàrdach fighting wild animals.”

The other nine men, including Andrew chuckled. The hound licked Gavin’s hand. He immediately jerked it away. Andrew patted the large dog’s head. “Rab helped us find you, and Flora.”

“He came to me on the morn, then left when someone whistled. A lot of leading he did.” Gavin placed the foot of his good leg in Erskin’s strong cupped hands.

“Aye, but he led Flora to Torey. The boy had Rab out running deer for the hunt when the hound ventured off, found Flora, then led her back to the lad. I suppose Rab thought you unable to go with him this morn, but he knew exactly where to bring us later.”

Gavin patted Rab’s large shaggy head. “He’s a good dog, I reckon.” Turning to Erskin, he said, “Ne’re you mind about me fighting wild animals, ‘twas a small thing, really. And you’ll find its carcass in the woods.” Erskin gently lifted, placing Gavin across Maith’s saddle. Gavin bit his lip with pain and weakness but did not cry out in front of the warriors.

A Highland Ruby is available for preorder:

Historical Heartbeats | Apple iTunes | Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Smashwords

About the Author

The desire to write historical fiction has long been a passion with Brenda B. Taylor. Since elementary school, she has written stories in her spare time. Brenda earned three degrees: a BSE from Henderson State University, Arkadelphia, Arkansas; a MEd from Sam Houston State University, Huntsville, Texas; and an EdD from Texas A&M University, College Station, Texas; then worked as a teacher and administrator in the Texas Public School system. Only after retirement could she fulfill the dream of publication.

Brenda and her husband make their home in beautiful East Texas where they enjoy spending time with family and friends, traveling, and working in Bethabara Faith Ministry, Inc. She crafts stories about the extraordinary lives of ordinary people in her favorite place overlooking bird feeders, bird houses, and a variety of blooming trees and flowers. She sincerely thanks all who purchase and read her books. Her desire is that the message in each book will touch the heart of the reader as it did hers in the writing.

Brenda’s Contact Information:

Historical Heartbeats | Facebook | Twitter |
Amazon Author’s Page | Pinterest | Goodreads

True love awaits. Passion burns bright…

Carrick is an Alpha werewolf preparing for the annual Pack Gathering. Pack law dictates he must have a mate by his thirty-sixth year or forfeit his rule. But what if he’s already found her and lost her in a swirl of cinnamon-scented dreams? Can this Alpha brave a sea of single wolfy females to find the one woman who enchanted his heart?

She’s a kitty girl, in a wolfy world…

Sage is the curvy owner of the Hot Whips Café. Bound by pack law, even as an adopted cat, she must attend the Gathering for the Alpha to select a new mate. Heading to a wolf ball isn’t high on her list of fun activities, but damned if she can’t get the image of a certain amber-eyed wolf out of her head.

Release date: February 1, 2016
Publisher: All Romance

Buy link:
Amazon — http://rxe.me/SNMBZA
All Romance: https://goo.gl/IPNZTi

Excerpt:

Carrick stood with his back to his second in command, his wolf pacing beneath his skin. He wanted to break the double doors open and bound into the woods rather than face the torment waiting for him in the grounds outside. Women. Hundreds of single wolfy females. All vying for the privilege of putting his cock and balls into their handbags like some godforsaken trophy.

Fuck.

Ever year he’d dodged the bullet, but this year one of the hungry piranha circling his house would become his mate.

Double fuck. He’d been through this before. He already had one. He just needed to find her, but the elders wouldn’t listen.

“You have to make a choice, Alpha.” Reid crossed the room and stood in front of him, blocking his view.

Carrick growled and spun away. “I’ll find her.”

Reid’s lips flattened, his dark eyes flashing in his anger. “You know the rules. Thirty-six is the last year an Alpha can rule without a mate by his side. The pack needs an Alpha female to be whole.”

“The pack is stronger than it’s been, or are you forgetting how I got here?”

Reid swallowed and backed up a step. “No. Justin was a horrible Alpha. You were right to destroy him. He was wrong for the Westmore Pack. Evil.”

And the bastard had been. He’d abused his power as Alpha to enslave his pack rather than uplift it. The amount of victims he’d unearthed in the days that followed would disturb him for the rest of his days. He could still see the faces of the women Justin had taken against their will and the shivering form of his sister and the strange girl who stood up to a monster.

Hers was the face that haunted his dreams. Her need reached out to him and made him into who he needed to be to overcome a near impossible situation. He had been up against a being far superior in strength but what he lacked in brawn, he’d more than made up for in sheer bullheadedness. And the electricity he felt when he touched her. His wolf recognized his mate and so did he. Now all that remained was to find her. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been looking. No one knew her name and, with her face partially shifted, her image was only a fleeting ghost in his mind.

“You’re damned right.” Carrick leaned back against his desk and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His father would be proud of the work he’d done. He’d turned the Westmore Estate from a near financial ruin to a lucrative operation centered on the newly formed security company owned by him and his second, Reid. Where people had once feared shifters for their propensity for violence because of Justin and his henchmen, he’d turned the tide and people paid for their protection. Handsomely. So much so that when the media had heard about the weekend’s festivities, he’d been dubbed the Ultimate Bachelor.

It made him fucking nauseous.

The one person he needed to find and he couldn’t and it made him crazy. Now, in a matter of a few days, he would either have to relinquish his role as Alpha or marry a gold digging piece of arm candy. The closest person he’d found was a barista at the coffee place he frequented but she didn’t look anything like the girl in his dreams. And now whenever she saw him coming, she hightailed it for the hills.

But she had popped a whisker.

Just like his goddess.

Jesus. He was losing his shit. Completely.

About the author:

Erzabet Bishop is an award winning author who loves to write naughty stories. She is the author of Lipstick, Crave, The Science of Lust, Wicked for You, Arcane Imaginarium: Spirit Board, Holidays in Hell, Mallory’s Mark (upcoming 2016),The Devil’s Due (upcoming 2016), Charity Benshaw’s Enchanted Paddle Emporium (upcoming 2016), Sigil Fire, Glitter Lust (upcoming 2016), Written on Skin, Club Beam, Pomegranate, A Red Dress for Christmas, The Black Magic Café, Fantasies in Red, Sweet Seductions: The Erzabet Bishop Collection, Holiday Cruise, Fetish Fair, Temptation Resorts: Jess, Temptation Resorts: Marnie, Taming the Beast, The Erotic Pagans Series: Beltane Fires, Samhain Shadows and Yuletide Temptation along with being a contributor to many anthologies. Erzabet has been a finalist in the GCLS awards for 2014 and 2015, winning the Goldie for her spot in two anthologies. She has been nominated for the Golden Flogger Award for Crave. She lives in Texas with her husband, furry children and can often be found lurking in local bookstores. She loves to bake, make naughty crochet projects and watch monster movies. When she isn’t writing, she loves to review music and books.

Follow her reviews and posts on Twitter @erzabetbishop.

Links:

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I want to share with you today some highlights from a wonderful vacation my family took last summer to Dubrovnik, Croatia. Dubrovnik is a charming small city on the Adriatic Sea (across from Italy). It was a major maritime power in medieval times. Today it is a fairy-tale tourist destination (but not overrun with crowds and high prices which you might find in more major European sites).

My top photo is the Old Town itself, which was built 500 years ago, and has been well-preserved. You can walk around the old walls, which served to protect the city, and were never breached until the Yugoslav war in the 1990s when airplanes dropping bombs did what medieval enemies never could. The citizens worked hard in the last twenty years to re-build their city, which was heavily damaged in the war. They did an excellent job.

Within the walls of the Old Town, you can find history, shops, restaurants, churches, medieval architecture and, most of all, people enjoying the outdoor spaces.

I knew I had to write a story here. We found an outdoor bar perched on a cliff overlooking the Adriatic Sea. You literally have to go through a small tunnel in the outer walls of the old city to reach the bar. It’s called the Buza Bar and is a fairly well known spot where you can only order drinks. (There is no plumbing at the Bar.) You can enjoy your drinks at the bar or down on the rocks. I knew this was the perfect setting in which my hero and heroine could meet.

Dubrovnik is just as romantic at night, with fantastic views in all directions. My daughter took a photo of a gorgeous yacht all lit up, which we could see from our windows. I knew that this is where my hero and heroine could have some fun. 😉 After all, the hero is a billionaire, and this yacht is just one of his toys.

Dubrovnik is the setting for my novella, Love Charm for Gillian.

Tall, Dark & Loaded

Gillian traveled to the Dalmatian Coast to close the door on tragedy. But an adventurer with a private yacht may be just the type of enticement she can’t resist…for better or for worse.

This story is available only in the all new anthology Tall, Dark, and Loaded, on sale for a limited time for only 99 cents.

Please check out the anthology at these sites:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1XHwiea
iBooks: itunes.apple.com/us/book/tall-dark-and-loaded/id1067454022
Google: play.google.com/store/books/details/Mel_Curtis_Tall_Dark_and_Loaded?id=RhkuCwAAQBAJ
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/tall-dark-and-loaded
Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/tall-dark-and-loaded-mel-curtis/1123150457?ean=2940157675646

You can see more of my pictures from Dubrovnik (several of which feature in my story) on my Pinterest page: http://pinterest.com/carlycarson/

You can also find out more about me at:

Carly Carson newsletter: http://eepurl.com/zcLJL
Website: http://www.carlycarson.com
Facebook fan page: https://www.facebook.com/CarlyCarsonAuthor
Facebook Profile Page: https://www.facebook.com/carly.carson
Twitter: http://twitter.com/Carly_Carson

Thanks for joining me at Delilah’s today. Have any of you ever been to Croatia? Would you like to go? Where is your favorite vacation spot, either that you’ve been to, or would like to visit? Which photo that I’ve shown is your favorite? Please share.

UPDATE: The winner of the contest is…Julie!

* * * * *

First, thank you to everyone who purchased Frannie and The Private Dick! If you haven’t already done so, NOW’S THE TIME, because very shortly I will be raising the price to where it really belongs for the length of work it is. But thank you, you early purchasers. We writers don’t just appreciate kind words written in reviews, we appreciate you spending money for our stories, so that we can continue to afford to spend our time writing more stories. It’s just a vicious circle! 🙂

By the way, what do you think of that title? My daughter thinks I sometimes go too far—to which I reply, “Is there such a thing?” Maybe. I have a title for this smutty little office-sex-slave short-story series that might be too much. It will be coming after I finish all the “With His…” stepbrother stories.

For the Stepbrothers Stepping Out, so far I’ve done:

1. With His Partner
2. With His Boss
3. With His Professor

Right now, I’m writing With His Friends and I already have a sexy cover for With His Team. And then, I’m out of “With His…” titles.

Unless… You have suggestions… 

One lucky titler (yes, a made up word!) will
win a small Amazon gift card!

Have fun! ~DD

*~*~*

And while you’re thinking, here’s a little taste of With His Professor…

With my brother Darien’s paper crushed in my hand, I marched down the dimly lit hallway of the English Department, heedless of the fact I hadn’t changed after work. My four-inch heels clicked on the tiled floor like mini hammers.

From the moment he’d sat across from me in the club, his shoulders slumping and his expression dejected, I’d been alerted something was seriously wrong. Darien hadn’t wanted to worry me. Didn’t I have enough on my shoulders, supporting us both while he finished his degree? When I’d finally wormed the source of his distress out of him, I’d seen red.

I’d stared at the paper—recognizing the terse handwriting telling my brother that his work wasn’t good enough. The 57 points the professor had given him meant my brother would have to repeat the class, which he’d needed to pass because it was a prerequisite for another. And now, his graduation date was at risk.

Not without a fight. And since Darien was the quiet one, it was up to me to confront Professor Allcock.

“Don’t you want to change first?” my brother had asked, eyeing my costume.

“Does he still stay in his office until nine to see students?”

“Yes, but—”

“It’s eight-fifteen. No fucking time left for me to change.” I slid across the vinyl seat and reached for my furry coat. It only reached to the top of my hips, but the skirt of this particular costume at least covered my ass. “Can you walk home?”

He slid the keys across the table. “I should go with you.”

“You have a chem test to study for.” I bent and gave him a quick kiss on the mouth. “Dare, I’ve got this.”

I’ve got this. The adrenaline that had fueled my drive here fizzled. My steps slowed. I glanced up and down the hallway, then reached for the hem that peeked from beneath my coat and tugged it lower.

Good lord, I was walking into his office wearing pasties and a tear-away skirt. Standing in front of his door, I paused. The smells were the same—floor wax, polish, old books. His door was exactly the same thick wooden door. I’d spent several sessions in his office during my very short college career, begging for second chances, for him not to give me a bad grade because my dad would kill me.

I’d even opened my blouse, thinking I might be able to bribe him with a peek…or more.

Would he even remember? As handsome as he was, he probably had more coeds flashing their tits and asses than a construction worker on payday in a tittie bar—which was where I now worked. And I was the one flashing the dude with concrete dust in his hair and grime beneath his nails, hoping he’d ask me for a lap dance because I needed the money.

My hands fell to my sides. What could I say that would change his mind? Back when I’d been the student, unbuttoning my blouse had only gotten me shoved out his door with a stern reprimand. I glanced down at the paper I held again. I wasn’t here to beg for me. I was here to beg for my brother, for our future.

I raised my hand, preparing to knock when the door swung open. Caught by surprise, I blinked and stepped backward. The young man coming out of the door gaped at me, his gaze sweeping the expanse of my legs, my overly made up face. “Professor, you have another…student?”

I edged around him, getting through the door, then held the knob, waiting for him to move out of the doorway. At last, he shook himself and grinned. “Delta Zeta, right? Damn, girl. I’ll see you at the kegger.”

I took a deep breath and slowly turned to face Professor Allcock. I’d hoped he’d gone bald. Grown a gut. My heart fluttered in my chest as I stared across at the man I’d crushed on when I’d been a student here.

“Can I help you?” he asked in his deliberate way—softly spoken, but clearly enunciated. I’d always wondered if he’d commanded his women to bend over and take it in exactly that tone of voice.

I took a deep breath and raised the hand that still clutched Darien’s paper. “I’ve come to talk to you about this,” I said, my voice sounding uncertain, even to me. Which pissed me off. I tilted up my chin, and strode toward his desk, depositing the paper in the center.

He sat back, his gaze going to the crumpled sheets. “This is Darien Koslow’s paper. Why are you concerned?”

“I’m his sister.”

“And he has you to fight his battles?”

“He’s not…into confrontation.”

“And you are?” His eyebrow rose, and his gaze skimmed my thick coat and thin, short skirt.

“It’s a division of labor,” I muttered.

His gaze narrowed on my face. “Do I know you?”

Something about the way he said it, like he’d never in a million years know a piece of trash like me, fired my blood. “You might remember these,” I said, and tore open my coat, flashing him my boobs with the sequined stickers covering my nipples.

“Ah. Yes,” he said. “Miriam White. You were in my class…five years ago?”

“Four,” I said, slowly closing my coat. So, he didn’t quite remember my face, but he remembered my boobs? “I had to drop out.”

“A death in the family, I recall.”

“Two deaths. My father, Darien’s mother.”

“He’s your stepbrother? Half?”

“Step,” I said, beginning to shake because my anger once again was beginning to retreat, and I was tired and my brother was about to fail this class, and I couldn’t fix this. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“Have a seat, Miriam,” he said then tapped the paper. “Let’s talk about this.”

“You don’t give second chances. I remember that.”

“And I remember you. It was early in the semester. Still time for you to turn around your grade. But you wanted a quick fix.”

“You told me to read the damn book.”

His mouth twisted then straightened into a firm line. “What did you come to ask me for tonight?”

“I wanted you to let Darien resubmit the paper. He’ll do better. I promise.”

His gaze remained narrowed on my face.

I felt a blush creep across my cheeks.

“I have to ask…”

“Yeah, I’m a stripper.”

“Not what I was going to ask, but good to know. I was disappointed when you didn’t reenroll after your parents’ deaths.”

“My priorities changed,” I said, glancing at his bookcase, his diploma-covered walls, anywhere but at his all-too-keen eyes.

“I might be inclined to give your brother a second chance…”

My gaze shot back to him. “Really?” I sucked in a quick breath then stilled.

His gaze had dropped to my chest.

Did you know that there are 1,000,000 ants for every human in the world? Now, don’t you feel special? And yes, I have a yellow ant on my desk. And it’s a good thing I do, because without it sitting amid the clutter on my desk, I could have stared into space waiting for inspiration for this blog.

Take that, you folks who keep clutter-free desks! An empty desk is a sign of an empty mind!

How does one create without bits of color and wonder posted around their periphery? How does one keep from getting bored with their space? How can you not have three of those solar-powered statues that dance in the UV lamplight? Personally, I couldn’t stand to greet my morning without revving up the dancing hula girl.

Is she distracting? Maybe to someone else, because she is right there if I glance just barely to the side. But I don’t see her unless  I look right at her, and then I smile. And that’s why she’s there. Who can be depressed with a little hula girl in a grass skirt swishing her hips all day long?

Do I have a point to this blog? Not really. I just wondered how far from the ant I could get.

But I do have a question for you. Clean or cluttered desk? Which are you?