I’m very near the end of the little romance novel I’ve been working on, and my main characters finally consummated their relationship. Without giving away any details I’m just going to say that I needed a cigarette after writing that last scene, and I don’t even smoke.
My copy of Manhandled by E. L. Scobie arrived in the mail on Saturday afternoon. Studly brought the mail in, and I didn’t see the book until Sunday.
Immediately I set about reading this salacious looking novel that was published in 1963, a Midwood Book, by Tower Publications in New York City.
Having read my share of romance novels over the years I imagined this particular book would be tame in comparison to the bodice rippers I’d devoured in my twenties and thirties. I was both right and wrong.
This novel is hardly tame; however, the sex scenes aren’t titillating at all. With one really sweet exception, they’re just sad and tawdry. The front and back covers had more campy sexual appeal than the entire contents of the book combined.
I tried googling Scobie, with no luck, and I’m certain the author used a pen name. This seems to be his/her only published work, but it was, indeed, published which makes me think the author might have been trying a different genre. I’ll give the author this much—he/she wrote lyrically about the beauty of the area in which the book is set.
The book was disappointing. It didn’t make me want to lure Studly Doright to my boudoir for a night of passion, which had been on my mind. Instead, it inspired me to daydream about fishing in a cold mountain stream. And I dislike fishing. Go figure.
In my never ending quest for sexy musical inspiration for my romantic novel I discovered the absolutely delightful song, Girl Crush by the group, Little Big Town.
Even if you’re not a fan of country music, I think you’ll get a kick out of this song. Not only is it sexy, it’s also adorable and a little heart-breaking. I want to scream at the singer, “just be yourself!”
My cousin, Effron White, is an accomplished singer/songwriter in Nashville. He’s also a big Bob Dylan fan, and recently posed the question on Facebook, “What’s your favorite Bob Dylan song?”
I’m not that knowledgeable about Dylan’s body of work, but me being me, I had to weigh in. My choice? Lay, Lady, Lay.
Why? Because it’s one of the sexiest songs ever, and as I attempt to write a light romance novel, I’m in need of some sexy inspiration. The song paints quite a picture. Just close your eyes and listen.
Oh, and check out Effron White at Effronmusic.com.
Friends, I’m 63 years old. Post-menopausal. Almost out to pasture. 😉
Last night though, I had the damnedest dream about a steamy (and I do mean STEAMY) romp with Owen Wilson.
The two of us couldn’t keep our hands off one another. I’m blushing even as I write about it.
The question is “why him?” I mean, he’s adorable and goofy, and a Texan to boot, but I’ve never even entertained a mildly romantic fantasy about Owen, let alone a full-blown x-rated one. Now, Huey Lewis is a totally different, and age appropriate, matter.
There are love songs, and then there are lust songs. I assure you, there’s a time and a place for both.
When I want to encourage and/or enhance a particular mood I ask Alexa to play slow, sexy R&B. Oh my. If I were the blushing kind of woman, the lyrics from that play list would have me glowing like a neon sign.
Yet, there’s an old country western song by Gene Watson that manages to get to me in ways that even the most explicit R&B lyrics never do. How can that be? I have a feeling the fiddle is to blame.