My Boyfriend Wrote a Book About Me: And Other Stories I Shouldn't Share with Acquaintances, Co-workers, Taxi Drivers, Assistants, Job Interviewers, Bikini ... and Ex/ Current/ Future Boyfriends But Have- Hilary Winston

BEST 1 SENTENCE CHAPTER EVER:







"I have never felt more single than the night I stayed in to apply Pro-Activ and a warm compress to my cat's acne ridden chin."

Love Letters- Katie Fforde

This was a charming read. Laura, the heroine, is about to lose her job at a British indie bookstore when it goes out of business. During one of the final book signings her store is hosting, she impresses the author's agent so much that she's invited to run a literary festival. Due to a miscommunication during a planning meeting for the festival, Laura has to travel to Ireland to plead with reclusive author Declan to make an appearance. He says he'll do it, but only if she sleeps with him....and then the fun really starts! Don't worry, Declan doesn't turn out to be the pig that comment makes him sound like, but I'm not telling what happens next.

Poetry Monday

"What Do Women Want?"



by Kim Addonizio





I want a red dress.


I want it flimsy and cheap,


I want it too tight, I want to wear it


until someone tears it off me.


I want it sleeveless and backless,


this dress, so no one has to guess


what's underneath. I want to walk down


the street past Thrifty's and the hardware store


with all those keys glittering in the window,


past Mr. and Mrs. Wong selling day-old


donuts in their café, past the Guerra brothers


slinging pigs from the truck and onto the dolly,


hoisting the slick snouts over their shoulders.


I want to walk like I'm the only


woman on earth and I can have my pick.


I want that red dress bad.


I want it to confirm


your worst fears about me,


to show you how little I care about you


or anything except what


I want. When I find it, I'll pull that garment


from its hanger like I'm choosing a body


to carry me into this world, through


the birth-cries and the love-cries too,


and I'll wear it like bones, like skin,


it'll be the goddamned


dress they bury me in.

Poetry Monday

The Parakeets

by Alberto Blanco
translated by W. S. Merwin


They talk all day


and when it starts to get dark

they lower their voices

to converse with their own shadows

and with the silence.



They are like everybody

—the parakeets—

all day chatter,

and at night bad dreams.



With their gold rings

on their clever faces,

brilliant feathers

and the heart restless

with speech...



They are like everybody,

—the parakeets—

the ones that talk best

have separate cages.




*As much as I wanted a dog growing up, we lived in apartments where it was too hard to keep one. I did however have several parakeets with amazingly distinctive personalities. Casey bird was my first, followed by Rio, Dove, Sunshine & Storm. This poem reminded me quite a bit of them.

Poetry Monday

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun (Sonnet 130)



by William Shakespeare






My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;


Coral is far more red than her lips' red;


If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;


If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.


I have seen roses damasked, red and white,


But no such roses see I in her cheeks;


And in some perfumes is there more delight


Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.


I love to hear her speak, yet well I know


That music hath a far more pleasing sound;


I grant I never saw a goddess go;


My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.


And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare


As any she belied with false compare.

Poetry Monday

Do not go gentle into that good night



by Dylan Thomas






Do not go gentle into that good night,


Old age should burn and rave at close of day;


Rage, rage against the dying of the light.






Though wise men at their end know dark is right,


Because their words had forked no lightning they


Do not go gentle into that good night.






Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright


Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,


Rage, rage against the dying of the light.






Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,


And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,


Do not go gentle into that good night.






Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight


Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,


Rage, rage against the dying of the light.






And you, my father, there on the sad height,


Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.


Do not go gentle into that good night.


Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

5 for Sunday

back to something a little more literary...like 5 of my favorite romance novels!

Shanna- Kathleen Woodiwiss  "Shanna is a brat, but I'd like my own Ruark."


Jezebel's Sister- Emily Carmichael

"Wild West hookers meet a Christian wagon train led by a wanted man...I laughed out loud at this one"

Rose In Winter- Kathleen Woodiwiss

"We should all have our own Christopher..."

Scandalous- Karen Robards 

"Ummm, what dead brother? He won't mind us spending his money- really!"

 Devil's Desire- Laurie Mc Bain   "Elysia & Alex are a hoot as they learn to love each other"