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December 22nd, 2007
A Little Spice for the Holidays

Well, the holiday season is starting! Last Saturday morning, we were in a clinic with one child, who was a brilliant red, and who turned out to have scarlet fever. (Thank heaven for antibiotics). And last night, child #2 threw up a few times. Looks like that might just be too many holiday party cookies on top of a big ball of excitement. That’s why I was late in posting—a morning at the office, and some “barfy kid” patrol in the afternoon. But he’d much better and was sleeping like an angel on the sofa.

I’m sure everyone is having a hectic time. If it’s not the Christmas preparation, then it’s the realization that 1) it’s the end of the year and 2) people are away for 2 weeks. That always spurs me into desperate action. I finally forced myself to outline my next erotic historical vampire in detail today. No working from the 1 page synopsis in this time. I’m going to try some greater organization in 08 (ho, ho, ho).

I wish everyone a happy holiday. Soon we’ll be thinking of New Year’s resolutions. My kids have already suggested less junk food and more exercise (for me), so I’ll have to think of my own. And I’ve told them that all I really want for Christmas is sleep.

Since BLACK SILK is set in the winter (around Christmas), I thought I’d include an excerpt:

“Both, perhaps.” He sat on the edge of her bed and held out his hand. “I don’t feel as though I am in mourning anymore. Not now that you have come into my life, Maryanne.”

“That is so….” It was as if doves took flight inside her. To think she had made such an impact. It stunned her. “Wait right there.”

He leaned back on the bed, propped on his elbow, all six delicious feet of him sprawled over her ivory silk sheets. And she shook in her slippers as she went to her wardrobe and dipped to slide out her secret from beneath it.

Maryanne’s cheeks were hot as she returned to Dash holding her muslin wrapped package “I smuggled it in—and it was the very devil to do so. I couldn’t risk having a maid find it during the unpacking. But I have a small compartment in my case.”

Dash’s mind ran riot. A whip? A large dildo? What would be Maryanne’s secret? Slowly she drew the muslin down, revealing curled pages, and then finally she flicked the translucent material away to reveal a stack of paper with an ivory ribbon tied around it. She picked it up, cradled it, and then handed it to him.

Handwriting, tight and neat, covered the first page. The writing angled in every direction as though the notes had been added haphazardly and at different times. Then he picked out the words: A Novel by M. Hamilton.

“This is your book. You wrote all this yourself?” He patted the bed beside him.

“Yes.” She laughed.

But it still seemed miraculous to him. That she had created a story and diligently set all these words to the page.

“No one has ever read it before. I’ve never shown it to anyone. I was always too afraid to let anyone see it. But I would like you to read it.” She ducked her head, cheeks pink. “You see, it is an erotic story.”

“Hell,” he muttered, instantly erect, lusty, yet completely astonished.

“You must wonder why I did it,” she hurried on. “And I really cannot say. I edited those stories for the courtesans who wrote for us, and I…I felt a compulsion to put down words myself. To tell a story. Of course, since it is an erotic story, I was hampered by a certain lack of experience.” She stood by the bedpost, her arm curled around it.

Too shy to join him while he read her book? “Not anymore.” He grinned, sat up, and spread his legs. “Come and cuddle between my thighs while I read.”

“I don’t know. You may find parts that are…silly.”

“I doubt that, love.”

“Or physically impossible.”

God, he was hard with anticipation. As he turned to the first page, he watched Maryanne. A curl brushed her cheek, she looked so sweetly demure. Then he looked to the first lines.

All the best for the holidays! And if you’ve thought of any inspiring resolutions already, please share them now!