Just When The Story Gets Good

I hate it when a blogger or an author goes on a "hiatus" to pursue their other hobbies, such as rock climbing, starting a professional billiards career, or serial murder.  Especially when they've hooked me with a story and go "oh I'll finish it, come back soon!"

I'm looking at you, Jean Auel. 

I'm not looking at Anne Rice because I don't really care for her. 

Alas, I'm sorry but this is just a short note to explain that I am not going to be producing any more books until further notice.  I've always been more recognized (and funded) for my photography than for my writing, and so with times as they are right now, I must concentrate my efforts on my career as a photographer.  There have been far too many opportunities coming up as of late that will need my full attention, and therefore, I don't think I'll be NaNoWriMoing this year either. 

I do, however, have a fully written manuscript for what is essentially "Bombshell 3" in my clutches, and a half written version of #2.  I do not intend to cap my pen forever, just for now. 

I will be back.  I don't know when.  Hopefully it won't be the bullshit 20+ years I see a lot of other authors do. 

Thank you for all of those who have supported and followed me through all of my scattered endeavors over the years.  You are the reason I am able to do anything. 

I'm mad for you. 

Peace, love, and tater tots,
Jessie Terwilliger

Myrtlewood Part One: An Informal Inn

It’s beautiful. Oh so swell in such a wonderful neighborhood!

Such a steal at this price!

Fully furbished with the latest appliances, creating the kitchen of her dreams.

And how quickly will laundry become so much less of a chore with a brand new gas powered clothes dryer? No need to line dry ever again!

A thirty six bedroom, fourteen bathroom mansion in the middle of suburbia. This sprawling home was built in the middle of a quiet Calimesa neighborhood by a man called Wheeler back around the turn of the century. Grass grows thick and green on the plush lawns with topiaries and other landscaping works that smatter the well manicured yards. And inside, you can take a nice refreshing dip in one of the five pools that the previous owners had put in, hoping to turn the place into a spectacular resort of some kind.

Pride of ownership.

You’d have to be independently wealthy to own a place like this. Luckily for Joan Wilcox, her husband just happens to be so, and when she fell in love with the idea of this house he fell in love with the impossible square footage. But what was to be done with all of the extra space? Certainly they couldn’t live in all thirty six bedrooms, and once the Myrtlewood Inn became an ill fated venture and a highly publicized town failure it went unsaid that the idea of ever proposing any similar plans would be completely absurd.

“Perhaps,” suggested his lovely bride Joan, “we could keep it as an informal inn. Like a boarding house for people who want to settle into the area permanently but don’t like the idea of being alone.”

Ah, that was Joan. Simple minded, unable to do very much on her own, let alone think. Of course people would want to be alone, isn’t it the American Dream to own your little bit of land and stake your claim? Charles dismissed the idea as foolish and stated his desire to acquire art and have a series of galleries that he would open to the public, or perhaps turn it into some kind of museum.

Truly, it was the idea of strange people in his living quarters that turned him away from Joan’s idea. She had come up with absurdities in the past such as gathering up all of the loose hair from the salons and somehow making wigs out of it, but Charles argued that there wasn’t anyone who needed hair badly enough to want to put someone else’s discarded and disgusting mess on their head. Or the time she thought that maybe cleaning other people’s houses for money would be a “fun thing to do.” She was so silly, Joan.

“It isn’t that I like cleaning,” she said defensively, “it’s that I know other people dread it so much.”

How completely backwards could she possibly think? She had a few wires crossed for sure, and her husband often dismissed her and her ideas.

But Joan wasn’t barmy. She came up with ways to do what she wanted despite what Charles would have to say about it. She mentioned her idea of renting the rooms out at the salon, and who should overhear it but a woman whose sister lost her husband in Korea not more than a few weeks prior. Her sister wanted to move out to California to be with her, but she had no place for her to stay.

To help a woman in a situation such as this, who had two young sons no less, would be nothing less than noble. And she could stay free of charge, Joan assured the woman.

Charles would later be quite angry. Especially when Claire told a friend who told a friend, and Joan kept on taking in her strays.

When the word “homeless” comes to mind, a person might imagine a scruffy man with stained and tattered clothing, maybe resting heavily against a wall, his bag of possessions by his side. Nobody thought about war widows whose husbands were their only family. Or folks just down on their luck. Men who couldn’t find work enough to keep everyone fed.

And so Joan would take these people in, always with their promises of not staying long and finding a means to pay her back for her kindness, but it never panned out. Joan cooked most of the meals for a long time, until a few other women joined her. One man even began to write the book he’d always wanted to, and wouldn’t you know that Charles actually made friends with a few of them? He even converted one of the larger dining rooms into a bowling alley at one point. The mansion on Myrtlewood was its own little self contained unit, and eventually there were less and less reasons to be going outdoors. With the chain of gasoline stations that Charles owned and the increasing amount of cars on the road, money was never of any issue to anyone who had moved in. Christmases were spent in the home, and during the 4^th of July the children would trot through the yard with sparklers.

Decades passed and life was just like this. In the mansion on Myrtlewood, anyway. For even with the conveniences of grocery stores who deliver, things outside were changing fast. It seemed that the paper brought news every day of a society that had banged its self apart like an engine that had run out of oil. Everything was doom and gloom and nobody who lived in the mansion wanted any part of it.

And so they had no part in it.

For nearly 70 years.

And though Joan and Charles have passed, and many of the original inhabitants are buried in the garden by one of the widow’s boys who grew up to be the undertaker of the mansion on Myrtlewood, life still thrives there as pleasantly as it did in 1953.

Until Gary knocked on the door one afternoon.

Coming Soon: Myrtlewood--A Series by Jessie Terwilliger

Myrtlewood is a story about a house.

On Myrtlewood.

And the people who live there.

And how everything they believed in and held fast to was corrupted.

By a man.

Named...well, his name isn't important right now, he doesn't come in until later in the story.

But you'll know when he's there, because he's not like the others.

So stay tuned.

A Dagger Quote

Working hard on Powdery Tattoo. I've added 5,000 words to it in the last two nights, so maybe I'll have it done in time for NaNoWriMo.

I just wanted to leave this quote from Dagger here, I thought it was special.

You have to remember, teenagers tend to divide the world into two categories: cool and not cool. I don't care how old you get, nobody ever, ever wants to land in that second category.

Life Imitating Not Yet Made Art

I drove over to my hometown of Yucaipa today to see the damage done by the third fire in the area this month, which burned behind Yucaipa High School where I graduated from. Magic Mountain is all charred, and where the Y used to be is just a somewhat messy triangle of dust in the middle of the black.

Why is this relevant? Well, they caught the kid. Kid, as in 16 year old boy, who was seen riding off from the flames on his bike. He's suspected of lighting the other two fires this month as well.

As I've sort of mentioned, Rest In Peace Walter Montague: Completely Defeated By Life is about an arson siege that rips through a small town in Southern California not unlike Yucaipa--in fact, most likely Yucaipa. I was thinking originally more like Beaumont because the story originally popped in my head some time during the trial of Raymond Lee Oyler, who started the Esperanza Fire and several others, killing five firemen.

Walter Montague, who goes by Willy (because "Wally" is a stupid name, almost as stupid as Walter,) is your average punk ass kid on a long board. He's also the son of the Chief Arson Investigator, Noelle Springer.

Noelle, single mom extraordinaire is currently working on apprehending the arsonist who has been causing billions of dollars in damage and resources. Imagine her surprise when she finds that Willy may be the one behind the rash of fires.

Imagine Willy, completely innocent, but guilty as charged.

Imagine Noelle's shock when she discovers who really has been setting the fires--just a little bit too late.

It's more complicated than that. And I think that this will be my NaNoWriMo novel, provided I get my research done in time.

Hopefully they got the right guy over there in Yucaipa Town. Poor place is surrounded by scorched hills. It's a sorry state to see the place in.

A New Title

The fire story has a title, finally. I've been switching between "Pyro" and "Fires in the Valley" but I always thought that Pyro was too common sounding and Fires In The Valley sounded a bit like a romance novel.

The title?

Rest In Peace Walter Montague: Completely Defeated By Life

You will be surprised to find out who Walter is and why life got to be so tough.

Story developing.

Getting Back On Track

We've just finished moving and we're now almost done getting our new place all set up, including a nice distraction free place for me to write. This is especially handy since I intend to finish Powdery Tattoo by November so that I can participate in NaNoWriMo with whatever story I end up deciding to go with for that. I haven't thought much ahead on it.

Over the summer I wrote about four pages of Tattoo which I know is lame, but the next time I report I will have accomplished some writing. I've even penciled it into my planner, along with time for those blasted journals.

Fall is my creative time, possibly because of the colors and the smells, but certainly it creates a little place for me to be and explore the world inside my head. And knit a few scarves. I'm sorry that I'm knitting a scarf right now and not writing a book, but I need to let my mind chill for a little bit before I have to come up with anything on my own. Following a pattern is easy. The hard part is stitching it all together yourself.

The best thing for me to do right now is just plan to sit down in the quiet this week with some delicious fall smelly candles and just continue working again when I'm not feeling forced. Plus I want to get my nest back in order first.

It's a whole creative process thing.

Starting with a blank screen.

The Bane Of My Existence

I'm copying my paper journal by hand into five other journals that people all over the US have sent me. It's a project idea that sparked when I realized how much I'm not telling the world by keeping it on paper instead of blogging it. It's not a lot, but it's enough.

Plus I'm impatient and I like to give wee little spoilers.

It's a lot of work though, and these are essentially my big ol' project right now, besides learning my new camera and taking it out for test drives. We move to a flat this weekend, and I'm hoping to start writing again once Ty goes back to school.

Other than that these journals are keeping me busy. And not to worry, because they do contain spoilers.

Not too many though.

If I Had To Give You A Date...

At this point I'm going to speculate that A Powdery Tattoo will not be out before December 2010. What I want is for it to be ready before then and release it next April but with my current goal of trying to buy a house, plus the fact that we're going to be switching apartments in the next few weeks, I doubt I'll have the stamina to sit down and write anything that I can be proud of or that I'd even remotely be able to share.

National Novel Writing Month is coming up in November, and that, I promise, I will try to participate in. What will my project be for that? Well, I have a few options.

I did get Social Butterfly to 50,000, but what if I were to take it to 100,000? Okay, so it's not starting a new novel, but it's 50,000 words in 30 days like the rules say. I could get that one to 100,000 no problem, considering the first 50,000 didn't even near the climax.

A few other possibilities are Girls Are Pretty or The Fool On The Hill, which is actually part two of Golden Dawn but I think I'm going to hold off on writing it for a few years. Another idea is a book that I'm calling Pyro in my head but also Fires In The Valley but I think the latter sounds a bit like a romance novel, which it so is not. But that one needs more research I think as it involves arson investigations and some heavy scientific and psychological themes. That one might be on the backburner for a while.

The good news is that when I wrote on Twitter that I needed to borrow a fire fighter "just for a little while" the LAFD responded and asked how they could help. Wow! Even though my request sounded vaguely sexual it still got a response, and a helpful one at that! I was given the number to their arson experts so I can call and get some help if I need it. I also have a few books coming to me in the mail about arson, one of which is called, dramatically, FIRE COPS! My favorite.

I'm going to try to keep this blog just a little bit more updated, and in return I would love to see some Amazon reviews if you wouldn't mind. I know you have a lot of time on your hands and all.

Until next time...

Just Thought You Should See

I spent time with Marina Hudson today, aka Bombshell. Well, technically this is the girl who inspired Marina's character, and the whole of Bombshell. She's still fighting the good fight and trying to get to where she wants to be. I've missed my friend.

As far as writing goes, I've taken a step back from it for the time being. We've got a lot of stuff going on at the Terwilliger home, like...buying a new home. Plus I'm switching apartments for our last few months here (or what will hopefully be our last few months) so I've got a lot of work to do. No release dates for Powdery Tattoo just yet, but I can feel that this sabbatical is coming to a close really soon. Once fall hits, I'm sure I'll be back in the mood.

Other than this, there has not been very much to report. Therefore I haven't reported anything. But thanks for checking back now and then.

Bombshell Now On Amazon

Bombshell is now available for purchase on Amazon.com. This is most likely the best buying choice for my friends in other countries as I hear that Lulu charges a lot for shipping outside the US.

Enjoy!

Finished Writing "Chelsea's Demon"

This part was based entirely on a dream I had.

Crysta had always used the guise of “having a little fun” to do her most degrading or otherwise bad things. She and Chelsea were heartbroken when Crysta’s parents decided to move back down the mountain to be closer to their jobs, and though Crysta often came back up to visit Chelsea every weekend, sometimes the girls would just stay at Crysta’s house in East Highland. She had a nice little McMansion there with a handful of bedrooms, and the neighborhood was safe to walk in.

One time when they were on one of their walks when they were about 15 years old, Crysta decided to wear a midriff top with cherries all over it, even though Chelsea laughed it off as being pretty slutty. They walked along Baseline road, a brick wall covered in different vines and plants on one side of the sidewalk they walked on. Across the street were the foothills, rounded mounds that seemed to roll their way up to the big mountains they sat foot at; covered in dry brush as usual. Chelsea had her camera strapped around her neck so she could snap some shots along the way, stopping to shoot a single ragweed plant, an ancient looking fire hydrant, or some lantana growing by the wall.

They were walking and talking for a while, just shooting the shit about random boy stuff or teachers at their schools, when all of the sudden a powder-painted yellow truck pulled up beside them. The man inside was wearing a cowboy hat and a flannel shirt, he was kind of homely but he had a really nice looking beard. Naturally Chelsea drew back in fear that he might be trying to kidnap the girls, but Crysta smiled and skipped up to his truck, putting her hands on the edge of the door where the window was rolled down.

“Hi CJ,” she said cutely.

“Well hey there Crys, how you ladies been?” he said, glancing at Chelsea and tipping his hat. “Y’all want a ride?” he asked in his obviously fake southern accent. A cross on a silver chain hung from his neck.

“No CJ, we’re all right,” Crysta said. “Pick me up later though, okay?”

“You sure? It looks like a storm is heading in,” he said while pointing to the dark gray clouds overhead.

“Just pick me up at my house at like nine, okay?” and with that CJ tipped his hat and drove off.

“Who the fuck was that?” Chelsea asked her in disbelief.

“He lives by me,” she answered as they started walking again. Chelsea snapped a picture of his license plate as he drove away just in case.

“Crysta that guy was like 25, what in the hell is he picking you up for?”

“He’s cute! Don’t you love his beard?”

“A little, but Crysta don’t get yourself into trouble,” she said as she stopped to take a picture of some bright purple and yellow plants growing on a sage covered hill in the distance, the light being quite perfect as the sun broke through the clouds to shine down on the scene.

“I just want to have a little fun, is all,” Crysta said dismissively, and that night Chelsea had her mom pick her up early instead of spending the night as she had planned. When Marina asked if the girls had a fight, she said “No, Crysta’s just not feeling well I guess.” Even when she felt that something was wrong, Chelsea always covered for her friend.

Sneak Peek!

If you want a sneak peek at A Powdery Tattoo, my young adult novel, I've got the first few chapters posted at Goodreads. They're raw and unedited but I am posting it for your enjoyment anyway. Hope you like what you read! By the way, here is the cover:

A Head Full Of Mad

From one of my Moleskine journals for booknotes, quotes, and plot ideas:

Whispers = Club 215

In case you were wondering, or if you had the slightest of inklings, Whispers Club in Bombshell is in fact a fictionalized version of Club 215 in Colton, CA. Here's some pictures I took today of the real club.

As you can see it is in fact two stories with the club its self being up stairs. There's also a balcony up there for the customers and the dancers to convene on. And as you can see, it's quite small and cozy. Just thought you might enjoy seeing the real place. Was this what you had imagined?

I've gotten a few reviews of Bombshell recently that I'd like to share here just in case you haven't picked up a copy yet.

Stacey said:

Bombshell is a very strong first fiction for new author Jessie Terwilliger. Marina, the main character, is a strong and interesting young woman who has had a hard life. As the story opens, Marina is having a hard time making it in the nightclub world as an exotic dancer. She wants to get out, and go into law enforcement, but she has a lot working against her. Terwilliger's dialogue is interesting and true to life, with enough "cute" to make you root for the characters, enough darkness to make the story compelling, and enough humor to make you laugh out loud.

Bombshell gives the reader an interesting inside look at nightclubs and a harsh look at the realities of working as a stripper. I'm looking forward to reading more about Marina.

Kelly said:

Bombshell is an unforgetable story. As a busy mom, I don't have much time to read, but I made time for Bombshell! The book is so fast paced and well written, I read it in three sittings (would have done it in one, back in the pre-baby days). It is an amazing story about unlikely characters whose paths cross in a crazy way. I was super impressed with the book, for so many reasons.

First, you can tell that the author put a lot of research and time into this book. There are so many specific details that do not necessarily stand out, but they add to the depth and believability of the book. I actually found myself thinking about the book when I wasn't reading it, and in my busycrazyfull world, that is something in its own. It is described as a book about a 'topless dancer, who wants to be a cop...' but it is all that and more. I thought I might be reading about the adventures of a stripper, rather I read about the struggles of a girl that is easy to relate to. No, I've never stripped or had dreams of going into law enforcement, but I have had crazy relationships: whirlwind love that comes out of nowhere and disappears into thin air and I have always wanted better for myself.

Very cool book. I cannot talk enough about it. The various plot twists keep the reader on the edge of their seats, and the ending is something that is unforeseeable. By the end of Bombshell, you will have developed a relationship with the characters and closing the book will be bitter sweet. I can only hope there is a sequel!

Read it! You will not regret it!

Thanks to everyone who has left reviews, they help and I really appreciate them. By the way, I occasionally do stealth giveaways of the book via Twitter, so be sure that you're following me at http://twitter.com/davidsdoll101.

Still working on a few other books at the moment, I've got my brains all scrambled trying to do research. No official news as to any further release dates yet, but stay tuned.

Paper Pages

Bruce is a man that I am very fond of. He's stocky and balding and his voice is gruff like the Cookie Monster. I love his story, and he said I could use it, but it's such a bittersweet tale that I cant seem to bring myself to write it. It's what happens to my fictional cop and it's harsh, oh it's harsh as all hell.

But then Bruce walks up all smiling and wearing a newsboy cap and all this green and plaid and he has a plastic green necklace and he says "Top of the morning to you," half jokingly as he throws a piece of trash into the trash barrel outside of David's bins and I wonder why I cant just get the fuck over it already and write the next part of the story.

I'm knitting less but I'm writing more. That is to say that I've got my young adult novel in the process of being rewritten from the pale and dry crap that it was and I've been taking a lot of notes in my journal. I've also decided that my journal is too hard to go back and sift through for notes so I've ordered a stack of Moleskines and I've bought an expensive pen to use in them so that each book has its own journal full of notes.

Five books you may or may not know about:

A Powdery Tattoo- young adult novel largely inspired by Victor back before he was a big fat asshole, also pertains to the weirdness that it was to be in high school just a year after Columbine. Okay for adults to read it's just that there aren't any sex scenes or heavy swear words.

Social Butterfly- Bombshell II which follows the story of another stripper who is largely based on Mustang Sally, broken English included. It's a year later so the lives of the characters from Bombshell have changed for worse or for better, plus gaps from Bombshell get filled in quite nicely. Not to mention lots and lots of cop stories.

Chelsea's Demon- Bombshell III which is 20 years in the future and follows these new characters with the aging original characters in tow...you might be able to figure out what I mean by that but I don't want to spoil Bombshell for those who haven't read it yet. The style is different but the details are pretty rich, and this is the one that's written 3/4 of the way through the story, nosing right up to the edge of this dramatic event but I cant quite push it over yet. Nobody dies, but...when you read it, you'll shit bricks.

Girls Are Pretty- Another high school story but this will not be appropriate for children. This is based on my senior year in band when we had this new teacher who sexually harassed and manipulated me and several other girls. Of course some of them liked it. It takes place in the semi fictional Mystic Lake, Ca, which is a real lake but not a real city. It's basically a big mud puddle that is now drying up because of the drought over in Moreno Valley. Regardless, there's a lot of sex and drama in this book, like teacher student sex, and somebody dies so that's good. I'm not really clear how all this is going to go yet.

The Fool on the Hill- Golden Dawn II, which is 15 years after the first book ended. Think about the word "malingerer" and decide if it makes sense to you, then go back and read Golden Dawn again. There's going to be a lot of backstory involving the Kade family, specifically one elder who was only briefly mentioned in the first novel. Oh and that whole idea behind the word "malingerer," just throw it out the window because you're probably wrong anyway. Oh yeah, and where's Dani?

These five stories in my head that are either partially on paper, only in note form, or not even really doing anything yet, but they're swirling around up there. And for some reason when I look into the beedie little eyes of a poppet I'm inspired to check out these new worlds. I cant help it, but it's true. They've somehow become an aid to my writing, sort of like how people who work in cubes have those metal balls suspended by strings that swing back and forth on their desks, and like Dilbert comics and such. So does the feel of ink on paper kind of inspire me, with these really nice journals I'm getting and my pen from the scrapbooking store, all acid free and fancy. My current journal is just in whatever ink I could find at the time some idea struck me.

And there is an extra one so that David can journal his beer recipes and paste the labels from the ones that he's tried and liked.

Bruce tells me for the third time the story about the time he sold a cobra to a guy when he was under cover, then turned the guy around and slapped the cuffs on him. And I never get tired of hearing that story.

I just need to tell my story now.

First Few Paragraphs Of "A Powdery Tattoo"

Just for fun, here's the opening to A Powdery Tattoo, a Young Adult novel I am polishing up at the moment. This is raw and unedited.

It’s not like it’s hard to get from my house to my school in the mornings, it’s a simple point A to point B bike ride. It’s hard to get lost when you only have one left turn and then a long straight line down the boulevard, I’m not saying that I can’t do it, or that I don’t do it most mornings. It’s just that if it were a job with a paycheck, the paved road beneath me with the empty fields full of dry brush and the rounded tops of Crafton Hills, the churches and parking lots would all just be a part of society that I belonged in and could relate to.

The little fast food restaurants, the drug stores, those ugly little box houses that they mowed down several hundred acres of orange trees to make room for.

But I’m 16. I don’t have a job, except that school is my job. The gas station and the car wash and all the traffic whizzing past me is all part of my path to something that I don’t particularly like to end up at when I’ve completed my regular morning journey. It’s not like it’s hard to get lost going from point A to point B, but let’s just say that I occasionally get distracted and miss first and second period to go sit and be by myself at the park.

The dry cleaner’s, the grocery store.

I have no defense, really, because I should be in school and I should be making things a little easier on Gran. How I hate upsetting Gran.

Bombshell For $5

I have six copies of Bombshell which have defective covers as seen in this photograph:

There was a problem at the printer and these books came out with no front cover picture, however all of the pages are correct and intact, so it is perfectly readable. I am selling these copies for $5 each to anyone who wants them, and I will sign them.

If you are interested please contact me at TeamTerwilliger at Gmail dot Com.

This Is My Paragraph

I received an email from someone who is reading Bombshell at the moment with the subject line "This is my paragraph."

Pasted into the email is a paragraph from the book:

“The first time I ever saw a dead baby it was a SIDS call. I’ll tell

you, I cried for three hours straight that night when I got home. They do

everything they can to desensitize you in the academy, but it’s not all

guns and donut shops like they make it seem on TV. Then these god

damned kids, and not just the teenagers, but little 10 year olds, they’ll call

you a pig and say ‘I smell bacon’ but when a man breaks into their home

and steals their X-Box, who will they call? That stuff rolls off your back,

but it’s really thankless, Marina. And you know what? I can’t see myself

doing anything else, ever. It’s all I ever wanted to do, since I was little I

knew that this was where I belonged.”

I replied, "Tell me why this struck you." She said, "It’s how I feel about the job my parents do and that I once did. It explains it to a T. The way you’re taught not to care about anything except protecting, serving and solving the case. But no human can go into a home where a baby has died and not feel emotion. No person likes being ridiculed only to have to help the backstabber in their time of need."

I love writing things that people can relate to so strongly. And it makes me happy to see that she completely got the point. It made my day.

Also there is an interview posted over here that you should really look at. I discuss both books and my writing process and such, it's pretty interesting. Have a look!

Happy Valentines Day!

Hey, whatever this holiday means to you, the signs of love are everywhere. Literally. The Wal Marts are filled with puffy pink heart balloons and little old men wander around the flower displays confused and frightened because the selection has been picked dry, while younger gents seem to head for the largest stuffed teddy bear they can find. Oh what a day to be alive.

My husband and I aren't doing much, in fact we never really do anything for this "holiday." I used to go all out with my ex boyfriend in high school and even made him a realistic message in a bottle, which was a poem written on some paper that I crumbled up and rubbed in the dirt, I even singed the edges for added effect and filled the bottle with dried rose petals. He didn't appreciate it.

David and I are giving the gift of ukulele's to each other and we will be dining on filet mignon that I got for $7.99 a pound. Then there's some stuff that I can't tell you about here that will happen later.

Of course I don't always leave out the good parts. If you want sex scenes Bombshell's got them, so grab a copy and get your fix there. The best one I think starts on page 137. ;)

So happy love day, let me know in the comments section what you're doing! And if it stays blank, I know exactly what you all are doing and why you're too busy to come by and comment!