Book Clubs and “Dirty” Books

Delilah, thanks so much for inviting me here in my new incarnation as Savanna Fox (also writing as Susan Fox and Susan Lyons).

Do you belong to a book club? I always wanted to, and so, years ago, I started one. I invited three friends and we each invited one more friend, so we started with eight members. We’ve gone through a few evolutions, but we’re still going strong. I love my book club! We take turns choosing books and there are NO RULES!! The books can be literary fiction, commercial fiction, non-fiction. We discuss them over dinner, and look for a restaurant that suits the theme of the book – e.g., when we read “The Paris Wife,” of course we had to eat delicious French food. (And drink French wine. Can’t forget about the wine part of the club!)

I’ve heard that many book clubs are a little, shall we say, stuffy and pretentious. If a book isn’t literary fiction – preferably a prize winner or an Oprah Book Club selection – then it’s beneath consideration. It’s really interesting to me that a lot of clubs are now choosing “Fifty Shades of Gray,” I think because of the huge buzz about the book. Seems to me, it’s not typical of what most clubs have chosen in the past.

However, that choice fits perfectly with an idea I had two or three years ago, when clubs were mostly reading literary fiction. Nothing against those books, but they aren’t always a lot of fun. And we deserve to have fun sometimes, right? That’s the idea that got me thinking about the Dirty Girls Book Club. Imagine a group of women sitting around, discussing the latest weighty, yawn-worthy tome, and one asks, “Is there a rule that says a book club can’t ever read anything fun?” Another chimes in with, “Or sexy? What’s wrong with sexy?”

That’s my premise, and of course the club in my book votes to read a sexy book, in this case “The Sexual Education of Lady Emma Whitehead.” Now comes the second part of my premise. Each time the club chooses a sexy book, one of the members has a personal sexual – and romantic! – journey that in some ways parallels that in the book.

In the first book, “The Dirty Girls Book Club” (Berkley Heat), Georgia Malone is a widow like Lady Emma. Emma was in an arranged marriage to a much older man who, to put it bluntly, sucked in bed. She has no idea that sex could be pleasurable. Georgia’s marriage was a love match and she and her husband adored each other. For her, sex was transcendent because it was a joining of bodies and souls – and yet, she never actually had an orgasm.

Lady Emma allows herself to be seduced by a suave, sexy French count. The only new man in Georgia’s life is the figurehead for her new marketing campaign – hockey star, Woody Hanrahan. He’s totally masculine and rough around the edges, and somehow she has to transform him, to make him more suave without erasing his sexy masculine edge.

Complicating matters is the fact that she has an inexplicable, unprecedented reaction to him: arousal. Though he’s certainly no sophisticated seducer like Lady Emma’s count, Georgia can’t resist the opportunity to experience the kind of physical pleasure she never believed she was capable of. And Woody is more than happy to take on her sexual education!

But of course, it’s never that simple, is it? It turns out, there’s more to Woody than meets the eye, and soon it’s not only Georgia’s body that’s turned on, it’s her heart. Do they get their happy ending? Well, I do write romance, after all!

If you’ve read my books before, you know that my mind tends to work in series, and so of course it’s my plan that the other club members will have their own sexy, romantic journeys as the club chooses more erotic selections.

I’d love to hear your thoughts about book clubs. Do you belong to one? What kinds of books do you read and how do you choose them? What type is your favorite? What do you get out of belonging to your book club? And if you don’t belong to one but would like to, why don’t you start one of your own?

I’m giving away an autographed copy of “The Dirty Girls Book Club” to someone who comments.

You can find an excerpt and purchase links on my website:  https://www.susanlyons.ca I’m also on Facebook: www.facebook.com/SusanLyonsFox

Savanna Fox

The Love Triangle: Decadent and Apparently Deadly

I recently set up a Google Alert with the phrase “love triangle.” Love triangles are a popular theme in romance novels. Usually with a heroine faced with choosing between two men. If you’re reading erotica it could be more, but you get my point. I’m a big fan of romantic love triangles and tend to include them in my writing. I figured the Google Alert would give me some interesting articles like: how to tell if he really loves me, when to go with your heart, or similar advice along those lines.

That’s not what I got. Instead, my Google Alerts are full of death and mayhem. Here are some of the headlines: “Neighbors, family allege love triangle in fatal deputy shooting”, “Love triangle turns into driving rampage”, “Reno men found guilty of 1^st degree murder in love triangle beating death”, and the worst “Caught in the middle 9-year-old burnt in alleged love triangle”.

Needless to say the results were unexpected and disturbing. What I thought would give me great info on choices about love, turned into the research materials for a suspense filled murder mystery. If love triangles are so deadly in real life, why is this situation such a favorite in romance novels (mine included)?

Oh, you want an answer. Sorry no time for that type of market research, but I can tell you why I like love triangles in romance. It’s exciting and it adds an extra layer of tension. The idea of a heroine with not one, but two, smart, handsome and successful men vying for her attention gives me a girl power moment. And even if one of the men in the triangle is clearly a villain, I like the anticipation of discovering will the heroine figure out he’s a douche bag in time.

So, despite the real life ugliness of love triangles, keep them coming in my romance novels. At least there I get a happily ever after. Do you like love triangles in romance?

Biography:

Synithia Williams has loved romance novels since reading her first one at the age of 13. It was only natural that she would begin penning her own romances soon after. It wasn’t until 2010 that she began to actively pursue her dream of becoming a published author. Her first novel, You Can’t Plan Love—which includes a steamy love triangle—was published by Crimson Romance in August 2012. When she isn’t writing, this Green Queen, as dubbed by the State Newspaper, works to improve air and water quality, while balancing the needs of her husband and two sons. You can learn more about Synithia, and her novel, by visiting her website, www.synithiawilliams.com, where she blogs about writing, life and relationships.

www.synithiawilliams.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/synithiarwilliams
Twitter: www.twitter.com/@synithiaw

The Fearless Love Playlist

I love Americana music. It’s one of the things I picked up when I lived in Texas, where it’s sometimes called Third Coast music (the Gulf Coast is the Third Coast, you see). It’s a spicy amalgamation of all kinds of genres—roots rock, blues, Tejano, zydeco, alt country, and folk, depending on who’s singing and who’s counting.

When we lived in San Antonio, we were in the midst of what I think of as the Honky Tonk Belt, a cluster of towns and suburbs with places that played live music on the weekends, frequently outside under the stars. These are places like Floore’s Country Store, Gruene Hall, and Luckenbach (yeah, it’s a real town). I got to hear all kinds of wonderful musicians live and on CD, and it’s one of the things I miss most about Texas.

Flash forward to the present. I live in Colorado now, but whenever I want a little taste of the Hill Country, I can go back to my very own town, Konigsburg. When I got ready to do Fearless Love, I decided I wanted to include the Hill Country music scene, this time from the point of view of a musician rather than an audience member. My heroine, MG Carmody, is an Americana musician who came back from Nashville with her confidence in tatters. This isn’t exactly an unusual story—lots of Texas musicians, from Willie Nelson to Robert Earl Keen, have deserted Nashville when they realized their music just didn’t fit the mold for Commercial Country. In MG’s case, she wants to start singing again, but she needs to take it in baby steps. She plays gigs at a small club in the country outside Konigsburg, then slowly works her way up (with the help of her true love, Joe LeBlanc, a chef at a local restaurant). I got to describe several shows that MG plays, as well as her practice sessions in her own backyard (with chickens).

This, in turn, gave me a chance to include some of my favorite songs, and I have to admit it—I had a blast. I went through my iPod and picked out all those tunes and all those singers I love. And then I got to match the song to the mood (MG and Joe have a fight and she sings a whole collection of “you dog” songs). After the books was finished, I went back and listed all the songs I included, just for my own amusement. And since I love to watch performances on YouTube, I managed to run down performances for just about all of them (I haven’t included the songs that I couldn’t find anything for). So here it is, the Fearless Love play list. Enjoy!

Five Hundred Miles 
Bring It On Home To Me
Bye Bye Love
Me and Bobbie McGee
Silver-Tongued Devil
Something To Talk About
Mockingbird
Jambalaya
Help Me Make It Through the Night
Born To Run
Maybe, Maybe, Maybe
Texas Cooking
I’m Movin’ On
Runaway Train
Fearless Love

Fearless Love Blurb

Sweet music doesn’t come without a few sour notes.

Konigsberg, Texas, Book 7.

MG Carmody never figured her musical dreams would crash against the reality of Nashville. Now the only thing she has going for her is her late grandfather’s chicken farm, which comes with molting hens that won’t lay, one irascible rooster, and a huge mortgage held by a ruthless opponent—her Great Aunt Nedda.

With fewer eggs to sell, MG needs extra money, fast. Even if it means carving out time for a job as a prep cook at The Rose—and resisting her attraction to its sexy head chef.

Joe LeBlanc has problems of his own. He’s got a kitchen full of temperamental cooks—one of whom is a sneak thief—a demanding cooking competition to prepare for, and an attraction to MG that could easily boil over into something tasty. If he could figure out the cause of the shy beauty’s lack of self confidence.

In Joe’s arms, MG’s heart begins to find its voice. But between kitchen thieves, performance anxiety, saucy saboteurs, greedy relatives, and one very pissed-off rooster, the chances of them ever making sweet music are looking slimmer by the day.

Warning: Contains hot kitchen sex, cool Americana music, foodie hysteria, and a whole lot of fowl play.

Buy Link: https://store.samhainpublishing.com/fearless-love-p-7011.html

Meg Benjamin is an award-winning author of contemporary romance. Her Konigsburg series for Samhain Publishing is set in the Texas Hill Country. Book #3, Be My Baby, won a 2011 EPIC Award for Contemporary Romance. Book #4, Long Time Gone, received the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award for Indie Press Romance. Book #5, Brand New Me, won the Holt Medallion from Virginia Romance Writers and was nominated for Book Of the Year at Long and Short Reviews. Meg lives in Colorado with her DH and two rather large Maine coon kitties (well, partly Maine Coon anyway). Her Web site is https://www.MegBenjamin.com and her blog is https://megbenj1.wordpress.com/. You can follow her on Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter. Meg loves to hear from readers—contact her at meg@megbenjamin.com.

Life’s Not Fair—Even in Fairy Tales

So lately I’ve been kind of preoccupied with fairy tales. It’s almost as if I have a series coming out soon with Ellora’s Cave Publishing based on them with some really cool, sexy name like Breathlessly Ever After. Or something like that. As I was saying, I’ve been reading a lot of fairy tales lately. You have your old favorites. Sleeping Beauty. Snow White. Beauty and the Beast. And then there are your lesser known tales. Brother and Sister. The Six Swans. The Bushy Bride. Seriously, I did not make that up. Reading these stories have brought back so many memories of my mother, sister and I sitting on the couch while she read The Boy Who Cried Wolf and Billy Goat Gruff to us. *sigh* Those were great times. Great stories. And some serious WTF moments. Listen, I know the great thing about fairy tales is the happily-ever-after but, man, some characters were stuck with really raw deals! I mean they were shafted! I know what you’re thinking. That’s crazy talk! Or get a grip! But follow me here for a moment…

The Six Swans. In this story the most obvious people wronged are the six brothers that were turned into swans by their evil stepmother. But the sister, who not only has to sew—sew?? For real??—six shirts for them is also struck mute and is unable to laugh for six years—the number of years she has to complete these shirts before the enchantment is permanent. Raw deal #1. Then a king sees her, is mesmerized by her beauty and marries her. All good, right? But no, another wicked stepmother steals all three babies she births and blames their disappearance on the sister/queen. Does king-y stand by his woman? Nooo. Instead she’s sentenced to burn at the stake. Shaft #2. Just as the match is ready to be set to kindle, the six swan brothers flock to her, she throws the shirts that she’s finally finished in the air and her brothers return to human. Yay! Except, here’s Shaft #3. She didn’t have time to finish the sleeve of the youngest brother’s shirt so he has to live life with one wing. *&^%$#!!!

Rumpelstiltskin. The princess was treated so wrong, right? Wrong! There was one character in this story crying out here. And that was Rumpelstiltskin! Rumpy—as we’re calling him because, hey, Rumpel-etc.-etc. is simply too much to type!—is used for his talents, lied to, cheated on and he’s the bad guy. Now the miller’s daughter is conscripted into doing the impossible—turning straw into gold—because of liar-dreams-of-grandeur father. She faced execution from the greedy king but Rumpy shows up and does the task for a small price. I mean really, what’s a ring and necklace compared to her life? Well when Rumpy requests her firstborn in exchange for the last ginormous pile of straw, the miller’s daughter agrees. I mean she never imagined the greedy-selfish-fill-my-coffers-with-gold-or-I’ll-decapitate-you king would offer his hand in marriage and she would actually have a baby. So of course that’s enough reason to renege! What did Rumpy do but hold up his end of the bargain? He didn’t throw his daughter to the wolves. The miller did that. He didn’t threaten an innocent woman with beheading over the idea of gold. No, the kind did that. And he didn’t go back on his word, not delivering on his end of the bargain. The queen did that. So what does Rumpy get for being a man of his word? One foot in hell. Literally. Now I know what you’re thinking. But he wanted her baby. Look, I have kids and let’s face it. After one week with the kid, he would’ve given it back!

Sleeping Beauty. Just purge the Disney version of this tale out of your mind. Sleeping Beauty had her happily-ever-after but she went through straight Not-Heaven before she got it! First because Queen Mom neglected to invite one pissed-off fairy, Sleeping Beauty ended up with a curse over her head that they didn’t tell her about! Forget the fact that due to mom’s mistake—drink more ginkgo, lady!—a lot of people lost their livelihood with the banishment of the spindle! If they had only told Sleeping Beauty about the curse she wouldn’t have went anywhere near that spinning wheel, not to mention the creepy old lady locked up in a room she knew nothing about! That’s sooo not a red flag. So she pricks her finger and falls into a coma-like sleep for one hundred years. One hundred years! Do you know how many balls, parties and fashions she missed in a century? So she awakens to a kiss from a prince with no gum in sight. Que music. They all lived happily-ever…*screech* Nope, that’s so not the end of this story. The prince secretly weds Sleeping Beauty and keeps her his little secret from his stepmother. In the meantime he continues to make booty calls and she has two children. Where do these princesses in these tales find these men? Well when his father kicks the bucket, he ascends to the throne—and surprise!—springs his ready-made family on the stepmother, who happens to be wicked (No! Didn’t see that coming!) and of ogress lineage. Talk about the mother-in-law from hell! Her husband leaves on some kingly duty and abandons his wife and children to the tender care of his stepmother. Tender as in tender meat, because that’s what she tries to turn them into. Succulent tender meat on her dinner table. Long story short, Sleeping Beauty has to face the voracious appetite of her Shrek-like mother-in-law, save her kids from becoming rack of lamb and elude a pit of vipers. King shows up just in time and stepmother ends up in her own viper pit. All this because Sleeping Beauty’s mother forgot a name…this whole thing could have been avoided if her mother had just made an invite list to that doggone christening!

Have I made a believer out of you yet? Or am I being incredibly anal and neurotic? Hey…don’t answer that…

Naima Simone is a multi-published author in erotic romance. She’s a member of RWA’s Southern Magic chapter, mother of the Dynamic Duo, lover of everything Vin Diesel and wife to the fabulous husband who tolerates this affair. Come visit Naima at www.naimasimone.com.

Adele Dubois Goes Wild

–CONTEST ALERT!–

I’ve always had a wild streak. Before I became a wife and mother, my adventurous spirit sometimes turned reckless. In the names of fun and excitement, I didn’t always think through my choices. When I look back at some of the risks I’ve taken, I thank my lucky stars the cosmos threw a blanket of protection over me. I reached adulthood mostly in one piece, though my heart might say otherwise.

These days, I’m as domesticated as a house cat. My most reckless choice on a Friday night might be to drink a wine cooler with pizza instead of iced tea. Still, that wild child inside me longs to come out and play. Most of the time, I ignore that voice, but every once in a while I give in to my adventurous nature. Those impulses have taken three predominant forms. First, I refuse to tame my naturally curly hair. Second, I drive a convertible with the top down unless it’s raining, freezing, or snowing. Third, I forged a career as a romance author and will write stories until I have none left to tell.

When the opportunities came along to submit to the Cleis Press and Delilah Devlin anthologies GIRLS WHO BITE and SHE-SHIFTERS, my wild child soul shouted, “Count me in!” Here were chances to experiment with something entirely new, where I could be as adventurous as I wanted to be. I have to say, writing vampire and shape-shifter duel heroines is the most fun I’ve had in a while.

If you think erotic F/F stories aren’t for straight women, I hope you’ll reconsider. A whole new world opened to me as both a writer and a reader with GIRLS WHO BITE and SHE-SHIFTERS.

Here’s a taste of my steamy short story “She’s Furry Yiffy.” Available separately, only .99 at Amazon, B&N, and Smashwords. You might like my story so much you’ll want to buy the whole SHE-SHIFTERS anthology. And GIRLS WHO BITE too!

Question: Are you, or have you ever been, a wild child? Or are you the more sedate type? Tell us a little about yourself in the comments section. One person will win a PDF copy of my steamy short story “The Crystal Altar” from GIRLS WHO BITE.

SHE’S FURRY YIFFY

A hot-bodied shape-shifter finds more than a hook-up at an X-rated Fur Con.

Excerpt:

“Mundanes aren’t supposed to be in here,” a masculine voice said behind Anika. His tone sounded more flirtatious than threatening. Furries had a reputation for friendliness, so he was probably harmless. She’d learned that, and the lingo, the first time she worked a Fur Con, months before her life-changing event.

Anika turned toward the man dressed in moose costume from the neck, down, and forced a polite smile. He wore long thick antlers over his neatly cut brown hair, possibly to signal a YIFF looking for a good time. Fur Con XXX was for mature conventioneers looking for fun and hook-ups; unlike the family-friendly Furry events held elsewhere.

Anika touched her tongue to her bottom lip. She could almost taste the animal he pretended to be, but not in the way he might wish.

“She obviously works here, idiot,” the wolf-clad male next to him replied. “Can we get drinks?” He gave her a friendly tailwave with the long gray plume he pulled from behind his back. “That is, unless you’re feeling yiffy. Blue-eyed blondes with great legs and big, uh.are my weakness.”

Anika knew he wasn’t referring to the YIFF acronym. Yiff in its many grammatical forms had its root in one word. Sex.

She eyed the faux wolf and noted the SPH, strategically placed hole, in his costume. Not a chance. She hadn’t had sex with a guy since high school, and had been mostly celibate since Lori moved to Seattle eight months ago for a job promotion. The move was a transparent excuse to break up with her following Anika’s attack in the woods.

What hurt most was that Lori didn’t deny the abandonment. “I can’t handle it,” was all she would say. She’d refused to make eye contact before she walked out the door. Anika had been inconsolable for weeks afterward.

Since then, she’d been alone, but her need for companionship had become a painful ache that tormented her night after lonely night. Her rare one-night stands had been disasters of epic proportions. The women had run from her house and refused to return her calls. There simply weren’t many choices for a lesbian with her particular new… penchants.

Available for .99 on Amazon! Available for .99 on Smashwords! Available for .99 on B&N!

Buy SHE’S FURRY YIFFY on Amazon!
Buy SHE-SHIFTERS on Amazon!

The Writers’ Police Academy: Hot Cops + Cold Steel

Really? Yes! The last weekend in September, I attended Lee Lofland’s Writers’ Police Academy near Greensboro, NC. I went the past two years as well — but this year’s conference was the best ever! I had such a good time, met some big name people, and learned so much. I was even able to interview a SWAT Team sniper in a search for info about my current WIP. Awesome!

The Firearms Training Simulator (FATS) was a literal blast, as usual. I didn’t do so great when I faced the first scenario; guess it took me a minute to get back in the groove. In the second one, however, I didn’t shoot the hostage I thought I’d brought down. Turns out the hostage taker knifed the guy after I nailed the bad guy in the crotch. Then once the hostage hit the floor, I shot the hostage taker in the chest and that was that. Two direct hits. Woot! So. Much. Fun!

Some of my favorite classes were Underwater Evidence Recovery, courtesy of the Guilford County Sheriff’s Office dive team; Suicides, Hangings, and Autoerotic Deaths, with one of my favorite instructors, Bill Lanning; Personal Protection for Women, taught by the unshakable Dee Jackson; Drug Interdiction; How a Case Works, by Marcia Clark, the woman who prosecuted OJ many moons ago; and Forensic Identification, taught by the estimable Dr. Elizabeth Murray. To top it off, Lee Child of Jack Reacher fame was the keynote speaker at Saturday night’s banquet. Wow. I could go on and on… because really, I had the time of my life.

In addition to the classes and the firearms simulator, this year I was also able to  ride along with a member of the Greensboro Police Department. I rode with Officer Ashley Hawkins and got to see a good sized section of the city. She and some of the other officers I met during the evening were all so young, I felt as if I’d been dropped into an episode of Rookie Blue. Too funny. And unfortunately for me, the few hours I tagged along with her proved to be relatively uneventful.

Officer Hawkins couldn’t even find anyone with an out of date car tag. We did investigate a supposed gunshot, however, and near the end of my ride, she got a call to check out a burglar alarm at a really creepy empty warehouse. When cops get an alarm call like that, they have to search the entire building, just in case; the place was huge, so she asked another officer for help, and he showed up with a trained K-9 — a beautiful German Shepherd used to doing building searches. The alarm kept shrieking, though, and they couldn’t hear the dog bark, so they still had to go through the entire place. That took a while. Another cop drove around to the back of the building and checked the ancient loading dock. They didn’t find anyone inside, and I guess that was good… although I would have loved a little more excitement. As it was, I was late getting back to the pickup point. Oops.

I tip my hat to Lee Lofland, the extremely competent staff of the Highpoint Public Library, Sisters in Crime (a wonderful organization that subsidized the conference fee for their members), the folks at Guilford Technical Community College, the men and women of the Guilford County Sheriff’s Office and the Greensboro Police Department, and the staff at the Embassy Suites Hotel. What a fabulous few days it was for all of us! I know I’ve missed a lot of people, so please forgive me.

I recommend this conference to anyone writing crime fiction. Can’t wait for next year if Lee, SinC, and the library folks decided to tackle this again.

Meanwhile, I’m in promotion hell. I have a new book out this month… and more coming soon. So much to do, so little time.

HAUNTED MEMORIES, my October book from Desert Breeze Publishing, is a re-release, and I’m so happy to have it back out there. When it was out before, it got excellent reviews. In this story, Olivia Bartlett is stunned to find her old friend, Deputy Tucker Hawkins, living in the house she has inherited, but she’s even more shocked to glimpse her cruel stepfather lurking in the shadows. Has Walter come back to haunt her, or is he really alive–and trying to kill her? To survive, she must turn to Tucker, who not only stakes his claim to the old house, but also to her heart.

The book is available at Desert Breeze, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and many other online outlets.

Also, my book SKELETON BAYOU is at Amazon and Barnes & Noble for only $.99. Hope you’ll check it out!

Love Letters

First off, thank you for having me, Delilah! 🙂

It’s a pleasure to be guest blogging here, although I have to confess I was nervous trying to think of a topic to write about. Although I love reading and writing erotica, I don’t consider myself a very romantic person, but luckily my partner inadvertently provided me with the perfect topic to write about…

This morning I woke up and found a love letter waiting for me on my computer. Literally. A small, folded square of notepad paper was taped to the corner of my monitor with my name neatly written on the front in elegant cursive.

Now, I’ve received countless affectionate emails and sweet texts from lovers in the past, and every single one made me feel loved, but there’s something different about receiving a handwritten love letter.

My heart caught in my throat as I plucked the note off my monitor and carefully unfolded it. It was short and straightforward:

I love you. Remember that. Even if your meeting is a disaster, I love you and everything will be fine. Just do your best. Try not to get too nervous.

I’ll be working late tonight, but you can call my cell if you need to talk. I’ll call home before I leave the office and pick up dinner on my way back.

Love you,
Dahlia

PS – Bring an umbrella. It’s raining today.

It was by no means a flowery or beautiful declaration of love and devotion. My partner’s penmanship was neat and her message was brief. The letter had been written on the notepad we keep on the desk to jot down quick reminders or memos. The top edge of the paper was ragged where she had torn it from the pad.

I was moved by her letter, though.

I found myself blinking back tears as I reread her message. My index fingertip traced over the writing; her pen had left indentations in the thin paper. Looking at it more closely, there were hidden, heartwarming hints of Dahl’s personality in her note. Some of the words on the left side of the page were slightly smudged from the heel of her palm because she writes left-handed. She had originally written the word ‘crazy’ at the end of her first paragraph, but crossed it out and replaced it with the word ‘nervous’. The postscript was written on a slant and the words were scrawled in a loose manner that didn’t match the rest of the letter. I could easily picture her leaving the apartment, discovering it was raining outside and rushing back upstairs for her umbrella. She hates being late, but despite that, my partner had taken the time to stop at the desk and add this extra reminder for me, before rushing out of the apartment again.

After rereading her note, I folded it carefully along its original creases and slipped it into my bag for safekeeping.

If I had received this message in an email or text, I would have been grateful and touched, but I doubt I would have been moved to save the message. I would have simply read it, sent a thankful reply, and then erased it. Because I received her words in a physical letter, however, I held on to them. I tucked her words into my purse and carried them with me all day. Even though the letter wasn’t in my hands as I made my presentation, I still felt I was holding her message close throughout my meeting and it gave me strength.

In fact, when I got home from work, rather than throw out the letter, I tucked it into the small box in my closet where I keep my sentimental items and keepsakes.

There’s a certain magic in handwritten letters, beyond the meaning of the inscribed words themselves. There’s the unexpected surprise and excitement of receiving a mysterious, sealed envelope with your name written on the front. There’s the tactile experience of unfolding the letter, smelling the ink and paper, and feeling the weight and texture of the note in your hands.

There’s also the intimacy of knowing the sender touched this letter, held it and bent over it as they addressed it with their thoughts and feelings for you. They deliberately chose this paper, this envelope, this stamp, and these exact words for you.  There is no spell checking or auto-correction in handwritten notes. The writer can’t easily edit their words once they are marked, in ink, on the page. There is no opportunity to rephrase a thought or restructure a paragraph, and there’s no option to right-click and browse through a drop down list of synonyms for a better word.

I believe there is an unspoken, almost subconscious, message of love written between the lines of handwritten letter.

The words are more sincere, their intention is stronger, and there’s a certain permanence to their message. Each word in a handwritten note is deliberate and thoughtful, and together they carry more meaning because of the method in which they are shared.

Despite how rare it’s become in this digital age to send or receive handwritten letters, I sincerely hope that each one of you knows the feeling I’m talking about: the sweet thrill of finding an unexpected, mysterious letter waiting in your mailbox, addressed just to you. J

About the Author:

M. Marie lives in the heart of downtown Toronto and she is both an erotica writer and enthusiast.

She’s also a huge supporter of the arts – opera, the theatre, fine arts and textile arts, in particular – as well as a big fan of video games, animation, comics, and writing of course!

As a freelance writer, who has very recently begun writing erotica, she is finding the experience challenging, but exciting. It has made her discover new sides to herself, led her to strengthen her personal relationships, and is constantly pushing her to critically examine boundaries she didn’t even realize she had.

M. Marie blogs at: www.mmarie.ca