The Romance of an ancient Roman 'Christmas'.

It may not have been Christmas exactly, but the ancient Roman Saturnalia (17th-23rd. December) was certainly an opportunity for feasting and gift-giving. Over the years, this time of merry-making, sacrifices and gift-giving expanded to a week and the poet Catullus - who knew a thing or two about parties - called it 'the best of days'.

In many ways this ancient festival was rather like Christmas:

Schools were on holiday.

Gambling was allowed.

Shopping at special markets was encouraged.

Holiday clothes were worn - the informal, colourful 'dining clothes' instead of the plain, bulky toga.

Presents were given - parrots, wax candles, dice, combs, perfumes, little pottery dolls.

Feasting was indulged, with Saturn himself in charge as Lord of Misrule.

People wished each other a merry Saturnalia with the evocation, 'io Saturnalia!' ('Yo Saturnalia!')

My ancient Roman historical romance Flavia's Secret has its climax and ending during the Saturnalia. Here is an excerpt.


EXCERPT: FLAVIA'S SECRET
http://www.lindsaytownsend.net/2008/04/flavias-secret.html


Flavia was as quick as she could be, but there were queues everywhere
in the food shops and spice and trinket stalls as slaves and even
citizens shopped for last minute items for the Saturnalia. It was the
first time she had been in the city this close to the festival. In
other years, Lady Valeria had given her people small gifts of pickled
fish and nuts, but had otherwise ignored the Saturnalia, insisting
that her servants remain indoors and serve her, rather than follow
the tradition that at the Saturnalia the household slaves for one day
at least were waited on by their masters.

`The Saturnalia is a rowdy, vulgar, drunken festival, little more
than an orgy,' Lady Valeria had complained. `I will have no part of
it in my house.'

Her words may have been true, but as the morning progressed, Flavia
saw little to alarm her. The people in these snowy streets were
intent on their money or goods. A few roughly-dressed men were
crouched over gaming tables and she passed a group of giggling young
slave girls, all waving napkins given to them as presents, but there
was no sign of drunkenness or of wild orgies. Many workshops were
shuttered and closed and houses the same. There was a distant grumble
of noise coming from the theatre, close to the great bathing complex,
but no raised voices.

Unsure whether to be glad or disappointed, Flavia swapped her basket
from one arm to the other and sped on through the slushy snow. She
longed to stay and find some gifts for Gaius and the others—
especially for Marcus, her heart whispered—but she still had not
enough money of her own. With a sigh, her final purchase haggled for
and bought, she turned to make her way home, avoiding the wine shops
and taverns and drawing her shawl over her blonde hair each time she
crossed a busy street.

She was close to the blank front entrance of the deserted villa where
she had taken Marcus to see the secret garden and pool when she heard
the sounds of flutes and drums approaching from a narrow, snow-filled
alleyway.

`Ow!' She put a hand to her ear, which had just begun to sting. A
small apple lay at her feet in the snow and as she stared at it, she
realized that it must have been thrown down at her from the upper
living quarters over one of the shuttered shops.

`To Saturnalia!' roared a good-natured male voice overhead. More
small apples and nuts and then a cluster of sweetmeats rained down on
Flavia and others in the street. People scrambled on hands and knees
to pick up the fruit and other foods, while the racket of the flutes
and drums drew nearer.

Then she spotted them, at the back of the parade. Three beggars, in
rags, slinking along the alley. They carried walking sticks and their
cloaks were torn but they moved too smoothly for men wracked by pain
or ill health. Now that she looked more closely, she thought she
recognised the small, skinny one. She had seen him before, walking
past the villa, twice, no three times. But he had never called with
his begging bowl.

A prickle of alarm, cold as an icicle, shot down the length of
Flavia's back. Trusting her instincts, honed by years of slavery, she
flattened herself into the nearest shadowy doorway, glad of her
inconspicuous brown gown as she veiled her face with one end of the
shawl. Scarcely breathing, she waited for this parade to go by.

They were all men. At least a score of brightly-dressed young men,
several puffing cheerfully on long flutes or banging on drums and all
with the rich, sleek look of Roman aristocrats and the free-born.
These were revellers: quite a few clutched jugs of beer or wine which
they carelessly drank from. Flavia prayed they would not notice her.
The last stragglers swayed past her hiding place. One, stumbling in
the snow with heavy deliberateness, dropped to his knees close to
where she was. He did not see her, but his two friends, slithering
over the slush and ice to haul him up, spotted the small, wary figure
in the shadows and shouted.

`Hey, girl, join us!'

`Let me give you something,' the second leered, making a crude
gesture with his hand.

Flavia darted away before the two men trapped her in the doorway.

`Hey, come back!'

`Party time!'

`We have the wine and you are the orgy!'

Backing along the street, Flavia heard an ominous silence descend
among the flute players and drummers. Walking as rapidly as she could
in a clumsy, sideways fashion, she did not speak, or run. She did not
want to provoke them.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw the three beggars echoing her
own movements, clearly following her. Who were they?

Under her fear, her mind was still working. If she could only reach
the crossroads, she would take the short-cut down the street of the
fullers and make for the shrine of the goddess Sulis at the Roman
baths. She was Christian, but these men were pagans. Surely they
would respect their own sacred place? Surely the goddess would
protect her?

None of the other bystanders or shoppers raised a word against the
rich, spoilt Romans or these creeping, silent beggars. Flavia knew
she was alone and would have to deal with them herself. She thought
of Marcus, going into battle, facing down his enemies. He had not
turned and run, and she would not.

FLAVIA'S SECRET - sensual historical romance set in Roman Britain.
Bookstrand www.bookstrand.com 4.5 Red Roses and Blue Ribbons. 4
Books. Book of the Week at LASR 4 Stars. 4 Stars Romantic Times.
http://www.bookstrand.com/product-flaviassecret-11087-330.html

Romance, the Night Before Christmas

For some holiday fun, here’s my version the popular Christmas poem ~
“Twas the night before Christmas”

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through my home
Only I was stirring, to pen my romance tome.
My best black silk stockings were hung, ready to wear,
In hopes, my miracle Santa stud would soon be here.

The pets are nestled all snug in their places,
With visions of holiday treats making them run dream races.
Their mamma has just slipped into her red lace teddy,
And is settling her brains to continue writing her fantasy.

When out on the lawn I hear such a loud clatter,
I spring up from my desk to see what is the matter.
Away to the window I trot in my boa-trimmed slippers
To take a peek through the curtains. Oh no, is that drunk Mrs. Kippers?

The full moon shines on icy slush, instead of new-fallen snow
Giving a natural spotlight to celebrating Mrs. Kippers below.
Yet, what to my wondering gaze does appear?
But an old-fashioned sleigh, and eight majestic reindeer.

With a Viking driver, so handsomely tall and magnificent,
I knew in a moment I must be dreaming this whole event.
More rapid than jets, his stags flew the midnight sky untamed,
His long mane blew wild as he shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! soar on Donner and Blitzen!
Fly to the top of each roof! Above the city walls!
Now race higher and faster! And sail over all!"

As autumn leaves that before the approaching blizzard fly,
When they meet with a whirlwind and spiral to the sky.
So up to my rooftop, the brown and white stags they flew,
With a sleigh full of glittering gifts, and Viking Santa too.

And then, after a blinking of my eyes, I heard on the roof
The precise landing, then the pawing of each jingle-belled hoof.
As I drew in my dreaming head, and spun around,
Down my fake chimney the Viking arrived, with an impressive bound.

He was splendidly dressed in red and faux fur, down to his boots,
And his garments remained perfect, despite all the ashes and soot.
A bundle of shiny presents he had flung behind his back,
And he looked like a romantic hero as he dashingly opened his pack.

His darkening eyes, how they naughtily twinkled! And at his dimples I gawk!
His features are sternly carved, reminding me of a beautiful proud hawk!
His full sexy mouth slowly turns upwards, a knowing grin,
As I continue to stare like a vixen at his strong virile chin.

With a saunter he approaches, making me weak in the knees.
His searing gaze travels the length of my body. And I freeze.
Without a word his powerful arm captures my pliant waist.
Crushing the lace against my skin, he has me tightly embraced.

Oh, how stalwart he feels, his muscles like hot heated ropes
And I sigh, then softly pant as I give free reign to my hopes.
His half-lidded gaze takes in my face, then settles on my parted lips
While his palms slide in a caress and boldly seize my hips.

“Oh, Santa,” I softly exhale, before his mouth claims mine in a torrid kiss.
“Wear those black silk stockings,” he rasps. “I promise bliss
When I return from leaving presents beneath every sparkling tree.”
After plundering my eager mouth with another kiss, he spins from me.

I hear him spring to his sleigh, to his stags give a fierce long shout,
Then, from my window I watch them depart like a meteor flaming out.
Still, I hear him exclaim, as he disappears from my sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to my gorgeous woman, leave on the light!"
~~~~~~

Wish Upon on a Holiday Star...
May your most romantic dreams come true...

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Romancing Those Holiday Hotties & Wolf Shifters Celebrate, Too

Yes, once again, it’s time for the Holiday Hotties Blog Tour put on by the Liquid Silver Books' authors.
Today, DECEMBER 11th ~ For your festive and ‘fanning self’ pleasure start here with author, Trina M. Lee ~ http://trinamlee.com/blog ~
There are lots of book prizes... plus, there will be a chat from 7:00am to 7:00pm with many of the authors, ask those questions you’ve been dying to.
~~~~~~

Now, for those of you who are fond of running on winter’s wild side with the wolf shifters among us... an R-rated Flash ~

Love at White Wolf Lodge

ONE
“I love you.”
Kindra’s heart skipped a beat. A really big beat. She hadn’t heard that. Had she? Rising slowly, while trying to think in quantum leaps, she draped the popcorn trim on the nearest branch of the nine foot tree she’d chosen for her father’s lodge, The White Wolf.
“I love you.”
There it was again. To make certain her ears weren’t deceiving her, she did what she didn’t want to do, turn around and face the owner of the voice, the man her father considered to be his right hand. Kindra stuffed her hands into her back pockets.

TWO
Zack, the man she’d spent the last three weekends having ‘body heat’ sex with, in every position she’d ever fantasized about, looked as though he was about to howl his feelings for everyone at the guest lodge to hear, if she was any judge of his expression.
“It wasn’t supposed to be this way...” she began, then halted as his gaze blazed like the enormous fireplace to one side of them.
Usually enigmatic and aloof as their moon, now, fierce determination carved his ruggedly handsome features and glittered his dark silver-colored eyes.
“What am I supposed to say?” Kindra shrugged.

THREE
Zack D’Guerre of the Voltz Pack was used to getting his own way. He’d certainly seduced her easily enough, a discreet assault that aroused her passions to a ferocity that had her climbing up his lean sex-delicious body with her slit pressed against his tall brute of a cock. He’d suavely introduced her to his den of iniquity, then proceeded to show her carnal pleasures she’d never dreamed of. He had her panting every time she saw him or thought about him. Kindra figured she was his winter conquest, the woman he’d entertain himself with until the spring thaw. Wrong.

FOUR
“You’re supposed to say ‘I love you’ back.” His silvery hot gaze didn’t waver. He was on the hunt. For her.
Kindra took several steps backwards, nearly crashing into the Christmas tree she so carefully decorated.
“You’re supposed to say ‘yes’ when I ask you to marry me.” Reaching out, fast as he could snatch a rabbit in his jaws, he caught her arm. With surprising gentleness, he pulled her away from the tree.
“You know I can’t think of you... in that way,” she whispered, then waved to a couple passing by who smiled a greeting at her.
“Why not?”

FIVE
Kindra desperately wished she ran through the newly fallen snow. Alone. Free. Her paws cushioned by the airy coldness. She wanted the scent of pine and warm-blooded prey seizing her nostrils. She didn’t want to be here. With him. His words of love growling in her ears. He was supposed to be the man she had a once in a lifetime affair with, the one she remembered as she lay curled before the fireplace, dozing. He was her guilty prized secret. That’s how she’d written their script in her mind. Mounting savage lust, and that was the end of it.

SIX
Instead, she stood here, feeling and smelling his wolfen mating heat for her. The man who heated her blood to an impossible, unbearable sizzle. Reluctantly, he released her arm.
“Because I can’t.” Kindra jerked her hands out of her pockets, then crossed them tightly beneath her swelling breasts. She glared, her wild frustration steaming out of every pore on her body. So it felt.
He stared. The need to know more than what she’d spoken flared deep in his eyes.
“Why can’t you?”
“Because... to be with you... I couldn’t let my heart get involved.” Kindra thrust her chin out.

SEVEN
“That’s why,” she added, louder than she should have. Dying inside, Kindra averted her face. Why couldn’t she just have been decorating the tree as she did every year, enjoying the heady excitement of bringing it to holiday life. Glistening. Golden. Bright with colored bulbs and ornaments. Damn. Grrrring snarling damn. And damn his need to mate her. His unique potent musk surrounded her, demanding her surrender. Demanding she surrender to her own she-howling need for him.
“Your heart is already mine, Kindra. You just don’t know it, yet.”
“Is that so?” she attacked, baring fangs she didn’t have. Not yet.

EIGHT
But wished she did. She’d rip into him, her teeth snapping so fast he couldn’t subdue her. She’d teach him she meant fierce bitch business. Her heart didn’t belong to him. Not one untamed beat of it. For good measure, she’d slap him with her tail, before racing away to bound over the snow. Free. Alone.
“That’s so, little wolfess mine.”
Whirling, she moved back to the boxes of decorations. “Go away, Zack. I need to finish the tree...”
His hand caught hers and with a command she couldn’t fight, he tugged her flush against his body.
“No,” she whispered.

NINE
His lips claimed hers, then devoured with a primal sweetness that had her yielding, her body as soft as the marshmallows in her mug of hot chocolate. The shouting no’s in her mind turned to whimpering yes’s. Kindra grabbed his neck and clung. Her legs swung upwards, wrapping around him. They panted, placing kiss after tumultuous kiss on each other’s mouths. Immersed inside their own world of raw seething passion, neither one of them noticed the gathering crowd. Until the sound of clapping and cheers intruded.
Kindra let her lips unglue from his and slid down his body.
“Marry me.”

TEN
He didn’t relinquish his lover’s hold, despite the fact she squirmed to free herself.
“Marry me, Kindra. I love you.”
“You planned this,” she accused in a whisper. “Asking me in front of everyone. I’ll look like the bad-bitch Grinch who stole Christmas, if I say no.”
“Yes,” he admitted, his growl adoring. His gaze sparkled, as silvery as moonlight on the snow. “Do you know when I knew I loved you?”
Kindra could only shake her head no.
“The first moment I saw your face.”
Her heart unfroze, then blazed like the roaring fire. “Yes, Zack. I love you.”
~~~~~~

Have a Splendid Holiday Season...
May your most romantic dreams come true...

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

My Characters run the show

I know that for most authors who I have talked with it seems characters take on a life of their own. In the story once they are created they begin to dictate to the author what they want to do, and can sometimes make it difficult for the author to do anything but. I know it will sound crazy to those who have not experienced this but I believe it is overwhelmingly true for authors.

Characters run the show. They are created by the author to be real and alive within the story with emotions pasts fears and opinions. I imagine that if you are not an author and have never experienced this perhaps you can remember a time when you were reading a book and it seemed that the character did something that you felt was completely out of character.

This shows that the character is real enough to have its own, not only what the author is writing but its own life and ideals. It is a very interesting thing for me, something that makes the writing process even more enjoyable and a good book even more interesting. If I can't imagine that the character is real, then I don't feel it was written well. It needs that depth to catch the attention and belief of the reader, to draw them into the story firsthand.

Well one of my characters has taken this "life" a bit farther. She has jumped out of the book and into the world of the Internet. It is a fun experience for me to watch this character living a virtual life of her own and I hope that it is enjoyable for those she interacts with on her blog and twitter. For me its more than a role play persona because she won't do anything that is out of character for what i have given her in my soon to be released book "Blood Visions."

My character is Zyra, a Vampire who lives in Oregon with her Werewolf mate. She is part of my series that is coming, The Immortal Council series. She is a very fun and interesting girl. If you are interested in finding out more about her check her twitter account. ww.twitter.com/ZyraZyra

I would love to hear what others think about this subject.

Are You Wallowing in Promo Hell?

It’s never ending, isn’t it? Like you don’t have enough to do, right?

Book Promotion and Author Promotion is what I’m getting to.

Our time constraints don’t allow for us to do what professionals in the field can do, because it’s their job. Honestly, who can afford to not only sit down with someone and explain what we do and what we need, but pay for the service that may or may not bring in the readership we need. This is especially important for e-authors, since so much of the marketing is still geared toward traditional print.

I receive a newsletter and sometimes there is nothing that peaks my interest, other times, it’s like, oh, yeah, perfect timing. If you don’t subscribe to The Book Marketing Expert Newsletter, I recommend it. You can subscribe by emailing: subscribe@amarketingexpert.com Their website is: http://www.amarketingexpert.com
In their November 27, 2009 issue #208 – my mind was set afloat with excitement. 10 Ways to Rock on Social Media and Still Have a Life and further down is The Publishing Insiders Show contains a link Insider Tips for Publishing Success – this goes to http://www.blogtalkradio which I will discuss in an upcoming post.
10 Ways to Rock on Social Media and Still Have a Life gives tips on how to not spend all day on the internet hitting all the various groups, blogs and websites to not only promote yourself, but your books.

Skim is the first order of business – don’t read every single thing posted. By skimming, you’ll save time. If you see something of interest, then stop and read. I do this with digests, twitter and group messages.

Do you subscribe to every blog or website that has a RSS feed? Stop it. Seriously, do you read all of them? Probably not, so only subscribe to those you do read religiously. I bookmark blogs I love to check in with, I list them on my blog. Some are author sites, some are agent/editor sites.

Have you ever gotten caught up with reading blogs, sending emails and posting promos to the extent you look up at the clock and realize you’d been at for four hours? I know I have. Facebook alone can eat your day away. I used to spend two hours every morning, hitting every single yahoo group that allowed excerpt posts – guess what, it didn’t bring in a lot of sales. Not with hundreds of other authors doing the same thing. Seriously, most of the members belong to all the same groups, or a few of the same groups. It’s a case of, if you’ve seen it once, you’re not going to look again. On the other hand, I’ve had better success with posting fewer, more timely excerpts. I post them three times a week, promos twice a week. I don’t often hit the larger groups, but I’ll hit smaller groups. With these smaller groups, their digests might take a day to appear in email accounts. This is when I see the most sale activity. And holidays – not many get online and post on holidays, so there is fewer choices which gives your book a better chance to sale. And don’t forget most of the US are just getting online when it’s seven in the evening central time. Save some of your posts for evening. It’s those that will more often then not be read before the mornings posts.

Luckily, there are people who know how addictive the internet can be. To help us, they’ve set up ways to minimize our time wasting. Ping.fm – is a place I recently learned about and started using. You simply sign up, add the places you need to keep updated and it becomes your one-stop-shop type of thing. You post your message once – just once and it will appear on all of the post sites you’ve set up. There are so many ways to do this. Twitterfeed is one they mentioned as well as Constant Contact.

And this should probably be the first thing you do – set up a daily schedule, a routine that works for you. Use a timer for things that you get lost in doing such as socializing on the internet. I know I need it. I get lost in Facebook, research. I get lost with animal entertainment.

A couple things mentioned and I think very wise. Know what you’re going to do when you get online. Don’t do things because everyone else is doing them. Look at yourself, what you need, your time constraints. Socializing is a great way to win over or lose a reader base. Less is more – the quality of yourself is what will attract. Set that schedule and keep it as much as you can. If you blog, you don’t need to do several, when two or three will suffice. Build your base, stay there and they will come to you.

What have you done that works for you?

Bekki
http://bekkilynn.net

Christmas Romancing the Marble

In my latest 1,000 word Flash Fiction, I’m romancing the marble, instead of the stone...

Decorating the Marble Statue

The X-Flash Story of Sabrina and D’Vallis

I
11:11:11 PM flashed on the digital clock. “Oh great.” Sabrina expelled an aggravated breath. Once again, eleven had her number as in seeing them nearly everyday, even several times a day. “Yeah, yeah, enlightenment. A new spiritual age.” She rolled her eyes. “I need a new damn life. Not some nebulous promise of a better world.” Grabbing up the box of outdoor Christmas decorations, she stared down at the contents for a moment. “If this isn’t just plain stupid. Decorating a statue,” she muttered. Still, it was her job and she’d do it to the best of her creative ability.

II
Sabrina loved her aunt. Occasionally, though, Aunt Beatrice was nuttier than a fruitcake. However, Sabrina found it easier to just go along with whatever little insanity her aunt decided on. Tromping toward the lovely french doors, she swung open the one she’d unlocked and walked out into the cold night. The wind buffeted her face briskly and she shivered as she moved down the low flowing steps into her aunt’s enormous elaborate garden. During winter the plants were festive. Small pines trees and artfully arranged bushes with red berries lined the main path. Other foliage offered the birds a feast.

III
There it was. Her aunt’s pride and joy. The marble full-sized statue of a man had been shipped over from Italy twenty-one years ago. Sabrina remembered clear as day her aunt taking her by the hand when she was ten to introduce her D’Vallis, as Bea always referred to him. Each year Sabrina had been given the impressive history of the statue as close to his arrival date as possible. He’d been found on the island of Santorini, a mystical fire-formed island that Sabrina adored visiting. No one knew his actual origin and for that reason the museums weren’t interested.

IV
Bea always claimed he came to her in a dream, telling her how to purchase him. More than once, on her walks through the garden, Sabrina had heard her aunt talking to the statue as if they were the best of friends. Halting, she heaved a frustrated sigh, then perused D’Vallis. No arguing the fact that he was impressive, a Herculean specimen of manhood, even if his manhood had been discreetly draped by the artisan. “So, you want to be decorated, do you? I guess, I’m the woman for the job.” Setting the box down, she grabbed the Santa hat.

V
“Top down.” Stretching upward and it was quite a stretch, D’Vallis had to be over six foot in height, Sabrina arranged the fur-trimmed red hat above his noble, yet rugged features. “Don’t you look just too christmasy adorable?” she sing-sang. “I’ll give you this. You’re warmer than I thought you’d be.” Stepping back and leaning over, Sabrina plucked out the elegant, deep red smoking jacket. “Not exactly Santa’s style, but it should look pretty good on you.” She arranged it over his shoulders, fiddled with the hang of the garment, then tied the sash. An odd glint rippled over his torso.

VI
“Hey, you’re not moving on me, are you?” she nervously teased. She could almost swear his head had slightly altered position. “I must have the pre-Christmas jitters,” she joked, pulling out yards and yards of tiny golden stars. “Hmmm, where to wrap, how to wrap... where do you want to be wrapped?” She gazed up and down his magnificent marble physique. “If you were a man, I ‘know’ where you’d want to be wrapped. Naw, couldn’t be,” she reassured herself as she crouched by his handsome ankle. “Your bulge is showing, D’Vallis,” she crooned and began twining the golden stars.

VII
“Round and round we go.” She spiraled the ethereal trim up his hunky muscled leg. “Plenty here. I’ll decorate your manly hips.” Sabrina leaned the side of her head on his surprisingly warm chest to balance herself and worked the delicate string of stars around him. “Or, should I say, your manly loins. Yep, definitely manly.” Had his bulge increased, even lengthened? Good God! “I must be losing my marbles pressed against your marble. Or, maybe you just like all this attention. Okay, leaving the manly area to decorate your other leg. Great, I’m turning into my aunt, talking to you.”

VIII
Sliding her cheek downward, onto his hard, hard stomach, Sabrina circled the trim down his leg. Okay, she hadn’t dated in awhile. Was this some kind of Christmas fantasy her mind spun from her unconscious desperation? “Yeah, I’d date you if you were alive. Who could say no? Unless you had the personality of a gnat and a head as large as the giant blown-up Santa on top of Toy Mart.” Sabrina wrapped his ankle and shot upwards a second later. “You’re throbbing,” she accused. “How can a statue’s cock throb? Why don’t you answer that, Mr. Marble?” She scowled.

IX
“Okay, you asked for it, D’Vallis.” Sabrina reached for the only thing left in the box, a huge red velvet bow with jingle bells adorning the knot. After ripping off the tape covering the sticky strip, she stared at the splendidly carved bulge that simply couldn’t be missed. In a flash, her hand pressed the bow to the center of his marble-hard manhood. Was it the wind moaning or... it sounded suspiciously like a male groan. Sabrina ran her gaze up his torso, studying every contour of his... flesh! No, it couldn’t be. She slipped her fingertip up his six-pack stomach.

X
Marble, yes, marble. Damn hot marble. “Let’s see what happens... yeah, I’ll play ‘kiss the statue’. Why not? That’s the magic, isn’t it? If your lips are as hot as...” Sabrina smoothed her palm beneath the jacket and up his ‘too real’ chest. Standing on tiptoe, she puckered, fastening her mouth onto his. ‘Omygawd’ sizzled through her. He kissed her, his lips so possessive she couldn’t speak. A large male arm clamped around her waist, lifting her, then crushing her against a real male body. Too stunned to do anything else, Sabrina flung her arms around his neck, kissing him fiercely.
~~~~~~

Have a Splendid Holiday Season...
May your most romantic dreams come true...

Savanna

Savanna Kougar

~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

A Bold and Beautiful Confession

I have a confession to make. It’s a little embarrassing, although it shouldn’t be, because clearly I’m not the only one on the planet to look forward to my daily dose of cheese. No, I’m not talking edible fromage; heaven knows I’m not impartial to a nice nibble of French Morbier, or a chunk of English Cheddar after dinner. I’m talking about cheesy entertainment. You see, I’m addicted to “Top Models”, better known throughout the world as ‘The Bold and the Beautiful’.

There, I’ve said it. It’s out. And I’m grinning, even though many of you are probably rolling their eyes and thinking “you poor, sad person.” But I don’t care because I’m equally sure there are plenty of you sighing with relief, having been afraid I was about to confess to something way more icky. In fact, some of you might be grinning along with me, thrilled to have found a cheesy kindred spirit. Hello, “Top Models” fans! Gimme five!

I’ve been watching “Top Models” since it first aired here in Switzerland back in 1987. In my twenties at the time, I came across this never-ending show somewhere in between rushing back from work, getting changed, and rushing out again to paint the town red with my friends. Maybe I was tired, maybe I’d just had my heart broken by some imbecile, or maybe I was coming down with some mind-numbing bug, but for whatever reason, on that fateful autumnal evening, I switched on the television instead of the turntable and my daily schedule changed forever. Because there they were, the Forrester family, having their first problematic evening reunion, being served by a pretty blonde girl from the wrong side of the valley called Brooke Logan (played by Katherine Kelly-Lang). Back then, who’d have thought that the lovely Miss Logan (and the rest of her messed-up family) would wreck such long-term havoc upon those unsuspecting neurotic Forrester souls? Who’d have guessed that, twenty-two years later, they’d all still be nursing variations of the same problems and insecurities, still bitching, conniving, swapping partners, and generally pulling rugs out from beneath one another’s expensively clad feet?

On an even crazier note, who’d have thought that, after all this time, I’d still be tuning in, night after night? I mean, I know I’ve got it bad because whenever I can’t make that 6.15 TV appointment, I make sure it’s taped so I can watch it later. There have even been times when I’ve come back from holiday looking forward to two or three weeks worth of “Forrester Problems”, as my son Gregory calls the show. I also get pretty miffed when, for reasons beyond my control, I’m prevented from watching “Top Models”. Take last night for example. There I was, sitting comfortably, enjoying the first few minutes of my daily fix when the bloody Cablecom box conked out mid-B&B introductory theme song and the screen went blank. I was not amused.

Basically, I just love plopping down in front of the television at the end of the day with a nice cup of tea and being whisked away to Forresterland for twenty minutes of mindless entertainment. People know not to phone me at this time of the day; experience has shown that if they do they know I’ll be a) annoyed, and b) too distracted to listen to what they have to say. When my children were younger, they’d both been fed by the time the show aired. Well trained, they’d sit quietly on my knee or in their bouncy chairs, jiggling in time to the familiar theme tune. Nowadays, even the dogs recognize the “Top Models” music; I know this because when the daily episode comes to its cliffhanging end and the music soars, they automatically jump out of their baskets, knowing I’m going to get up and move onto more important things, such as checking my emails for the trillionth time, or getting started with the dinner. Pavlov definitely knew his doggy stuff.

Can I embarrass myself any more, you wonder? Well, actually, yes I can. You see, many years ago, in the days when Thorne was played by Jeff Trachta (we’ve been through quite a few different Thornes…), and when the long-suffering Macy, played by Bobbie Eakes, was still alive, there was a whole musical sidekick to “Top Models”. Back then, Thorne and Macy were pursuing scripted singing careers, and if I remember rightly, Eric (John McCook) and Sally Spectra (Darlene Conley) also duetted episodically on the show. So, sometime during the mid-1990s, the producers decided it would be nice for all of them to go on a real “Top Models” worldwide concert tour. Which is how it came to pass that, on December 20, 1997, (albeit without Eric and Sally Spectra), Thorne and Macy performed at Geneva’s Arena. And guess what? I bought three tickets, one for my friend Asa, one for my sister Victoria (who is never going to forgive me for revealing this mortifying moment of her life), and one for me. Yes, I went to a “Top Models” concert!

Hey, don’t think I can’t see you, sitting there in front of your screen, with that little smirk on your face! I know what you’re thinking, but I don’t care, because it was a once in a lifetime experience. You see, the Arena, which has hosted massive stars such as Ricky Martin (would you believe I actually missed him when he performed there? Still kicking myself over that…), Brian Adams and Sting, was PACKED. People (mostly elderly ladies…) came from far and wide to see Thorne and Macy croon their soppy duets, supported by the authentic “Top Models” orchestra. In fact, the concert actually opened with the “Top Models” theme song, and everyone in the venue went wild, la-la-ing along. As for when Thorne and Macy sauntered onto the stage, well the crowd simply went beserk! I must confess that, at that point, I was a little embarrassed by the lack of “retenue” demonstrated by my fellow “B&B” aficionados; it was somewhat disconcerting to see all these little old Swiss ladies leaping out of their seats, wiggling their botties and squealing with delight. But at the same time, there was something refreshing – moving even - about this heartfelt show of enthusiasm. This wasn’t a “cool” concert; there were no special effects, no big screens, no sophisticated graphics to blow our minds or rev our pulse rates. This was just a little orchestra and two soap-opera stars belting out the likes of "Everlasting Love", "Especially for You", and "What’s Forever For", but it was wonderfully entertaining in the cheesiest kind of way.

There was even an intermission during which many of the little old Swiss ladies rushed down to the front of the stage to get Thorne and Macy’s autographs, something Asa and I didn’t partake in so as to avoid my increasingly-mortified sister from committing hara-kiri on the spot. I did, however, buy a Thorne and Macy CD on my way out. And although they’ll never admit it now for fear of committing social suicide, both my kids were thrilled and wanted to listen to it all the time. That CD is still sitting around here somewhere, squashed in among hundreds of other old albums deemed far more... -how should I put it? - socially acceptable, maybe?

I experienced another unforgettable “B&B” moment recently when my daughter Olivia came back from a trip to the local shopping centre with a sparkle of wicked glee in her eyes. “Guess what they’re selling in Manor?” she chuckled, one eyebrow cocked, baiting me.

I was stumped. They’re always selling loads of stuff in Manor; it happens to be one of Switzerland’s biggest department stores.

“A box-set of the first few years of ‘Top Models’!”, she exclaimed, wide-eyed. Then she threw back her head and gave in to a fully-fledged fit of the giggles.

I guess I know what Father Christmas will be bringing me this year. In fact, I hope he does, because I’ve quite thoroughly enjoyed trawling through YouTube today, searching for snippets of Bold and Beautiful memorabilia to share with you. I hope you’ve enjoyed them too, or at the very least, I hope they’ve made you smile.

But I’ve got to leave you now. Because, you see, it’s almost 6.15.

It’s “Top Models” time.


xx Francesca Prescott

"MUCHO CALIENTE! - Wish upon a Latino Superstar"
An effervescent romantic comedy
LASR: Best Long Book of the Year 2008 : "Laugh out loud hilarious!"
NOR: Reviewer Top Pick : "A seriously fun book with more twists and turns than expected"
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