One of my friends and a most fabulous author, Karen Rose, was talking on Twitter about her wonderful hubby... which got me thinking about my wonderful hubby. Since Valentine’s Day is around the corner, I thought we might share happy stories.

I’ve been with my hubby since I was 18 and there’s no one else I can imagine sharing my life with. I admit I’m lucky. We did have a small period where we weren’t together, but we both regret that.

There are so many reasons why I love him the way I do. The fact that when I worked retail in a less than safe area he’d come after work and sit in the mall on a hard bench, waiting patiently for me to get off work so that he could walk me to the car and make sure nothing happened to me (once he had three white roses waiting for me in my seat). The fact he drove my major POS and let me drive his better car.

I remember when we lost everything and were living out the car and spent a year on welfare, I kept waiting for him to abandon me. I still don’t why he didn’t. That period was humiliating and bleak and we didn’t know if it’d ever get better for us. But he stayed, working three jobs to try and make ends meet while our baby and I was in and out of the hospital for over an entire year.

He has held my hand through the hardest times of my life, always my quiet strength. Always a shoulder when I need it. My sister used to tell me as a kid that I was too picky when it came to men. That I read too many romance novels that had put stupid images in my head of what a man should be like and that no real man would ever measure up. Mine has. And in ways I couldn’t have even conceived in those early days.

I used to say to my sister that if ever there was a time to be picky it was about the man who would live in my house and father my children. The man who I would trust enough to close my eyes by his side and actually go to sleep (I’ve always had serious trust issues because I’ve been seriously betrayed all throughout my life by everyone BUT my husband). I’m very glad that I was picky and that I waited.

I remember for Valentine’s Day 1994 opening a small box and finding inside a small sapphire ring that hubby had put on layaway. I still love that ring and even though it’s not worth much, consider it the most valuable piece of jewelry I posses because I know how hard he worked to buy it for me.

As long as I live, I’ll always remember the sight of my hubby coming to my college dorm room to pick me up, dressed in his Army fatigues. He was always so tall and proud. I can see him taking me to my fave punk club in Atlanta, 688, looking baffled by the crowd. I see him in his first real business suit that we had to save up to buy him.

Most of all, I can see him, his hand shaking as he slid the tiny engagement ring on my hand and promised he wouldn’t abandon me like so many others in my life. It was a second hand, cluster ring with the largest diamond very yellow (not fancy yellow, just a cheap stone) with the largest one being 1/4 carat. I wore the ring happily for a decade until Boo was born and I misplaced it. I about died, but hubby handled it well. For Valentine’s Day 2002 (right after Fantasy Lover came out), he replaced it with a 1/2 carat solitaire. I loved that ring and still have it. We found the original wedding ring in a soap dish in the bathroom about a year later. I’d taken it off to clean one of Boo’s infamous exploding diapers and had put it there to be safe LOL.

From the beginning of our marriage, I used to joke that if I ever hit #1 on the New York Times list what I wanted for a celebration to commemorate the event was to buy a full carat diamond for my wedding ring. That was my only dream. It was something hubby made real when Upon the Midnight Clear landed at number 1. And it’s a ring that never leaves my hand (not even for exploding diapers).

My greatest wish is that everyone can find someone so wonderful to share their life with. Honestly, I didn’t believe in love when I met him. I definitely, having witnessed multiple times the worst divorce brought out in people, didn’t believe in marriage and had never really intended to marry anyone (I seldom ever dated). I wasn’t looking for love when it came walking through my door. But I couldn’t be happier.

My hubby once asked me if I was happy being married. I told him that I was happy being married to him, but I doubt I would ever be happy being married to someone else. I can’t imagine anyone else tolerating me with his grace and humor. Honestly, the man is out of his mind not to run screaming for the door :) But I’m so glad he stayed.

And on that note, I need to go find my hubby and give him a hug :) I got him a very special Valentine’s Day gift... which reminds me why Valentine’s is so special to us. It’s when we got back together after we’d broken up :) And no, we don’t just celebrate our marriage and love one day a year... we celebrate it every day of our lives. Valentine’s merely serves as a reminder to me that if I hadn’t swallowed my pride and made an exception to the “you break up with me and I am so gone” rule I’d lived by, I would have lost out on the single most important human being in my life. It reminds me that forgiveness is not a weakness and that love, real love, can and does exist even when you think you’re worthless and undeserving of it (and believe me I did). It can walk right in, in the last person you’d expect, and sweep you off your feet. No, it hasn’t always been easy, love never is. But like anything else, you get out what you put into it and when it works, it is truly wonderful.

Miracles do happen and mine is named Ken.

Hugs!

Since so many asked, I'll leave the meetings for the book's June release. In the meantime, here's part of Chapter One :) And it gets a LOT funnier in chapter two. One of my fave scenes is when Kyrian tell him to go to his car and grab his wallet LOL!!! I love the old Nick (love current Nick too, but have really missed this Nick).

“I am a socially awkward mandork.”

“Nicholas Ambrosius Gautier! You watch your language!”

Nick sighed at his mother’s sharp tone as he stood in their tiny kitchen looking down at the bright orange Hawaiian shirt. The color and style were bad enough, the fact it was covered in l-a-r-g-e pink, gray and white trout (or were they salmon?) was even worse. “Mom, I can’t wear this to school. It’s...” he paused to think real hard of a word that wouldn’t get him grounded for life– “hideous. If anyone sees me in this, I’ll be an outcast relegated to the loser corner of the cafeteria.”

As always, she scoffed at his protest. “Oh shush. There’s nothing wrong with that shirt. Wanda told me at the Goodwill store that it came in from one of those big mansions down in the Garden District. That shirt belonged to the son of a fine upstanding man and since that’s what I’m raising you to be...”

Nick ground his teeth. “I’d rather be a delinquent no one picks on.”

She let out a deep sound of aggravation as she paused while flipping bacon. “No one’s going to pick on you, Nicky. The school has a strict no bullying policy.”

Yeah, right. That wasn’t worth the “contract” paper it was written on. Especially since the bullies were illiterate idiots who couldn’t read it anyway.

Jeez! Why wouldn’t she listen to him? It wasn’t like he wasn’t the one going into the lion’s den everyday and having to traverse the brutality of high school land mines. Honestly, he was sick of it and there was nothing he could do.

He was a massive loser dork and no one at school ever let him forget that. Not the teachers, the principal and especially not the other students.

Why can’t I flash forward and bypass this whole high school nightmare?

Because his mom wouldn’t let him. Only hoodlums dropped out of school and she didn’t work as hard as she did to raise up another piece of scum– it was a harped on litany permanently carved into his brain.

And at the end of the day, he loved his mom and appreciated everything she did for him. Except for this whole, do what I say, Nicky. I’m not listening to you because I know better thing, she did all the time.

He wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t a troublemaker. She had no idea what he went through at school and every time he tried to explain it, she refused to listen. It was so frustrating...

Gah, can’t I catch swine flu or something? Just for the next four years until he was able to graduate and move on to a life that didn’t include constant humiliation?

Sighing, he looked down at the piece of crap shirt he wanted to burn.

Okay fine. He’d do what he always did whenever his mom made him look like flaming moron.

He’d own it.

I don’t want to own this. I look like epically stupid.

Man-up, Nick. You can take it. You’ve taken a lot worse.

Yeah, all right. Fine. Let them laugh. He couldn’t stop that anyway. If it wasn’t the shirt, they’d humiliate him over something else. Like Aunt Menyara always said, no one could make him feel inferior unless he allowed them to.

Problem was, he allowed it a lot more than he wanted to.

His mom set a chipped blue plate on the side of the rusted out stove. “Sit down, baby, and eat something. I was reading in a magazine that someone left at the club that kids score much higher on tests and do a lot better in school whenever they have breakfast.” She smiled and held the package of bacon up for him to see. “And look. It’s not expired this time.”

He laughed at something that really wasn’t funny. One of the guys who came into his mom’s club was a local grocer who would give them meat sometimes when it expired since all the guy did was throw it out anyway.

As long as we eat it quick, it won’t make us sick.

Another litany he hated.

Picking up the crispy bacon, he glanced around the tiny condo they called home. It was one of four that had been carved out of an old rundown house. Made up of three small rooms, the kitchen/living room, his mom’s bedroom and the bathroom. It wasn’t much, but it was theirs and his mom was proud of it so he tried to be proud too.

Most days.

He winced as he looked at his corner where his mom had strung up dark blue blankets to make a room for him on his last birthday. His clothes were kept in an old laundry basket on the floor set next to his mattress that was covered with Star Wars sheets he’d had since he was nine– another present his mom had picked up at a yard sale.

“One day, Mom, I’m going to buy us a really nice house.” With really nice stuff in it.

She smiled, but her eyes said she didn’t believe a word he spoke. “I know you will, baby. Now eat up and get to school. I don’t want you dropping out like me.” She paused as a hurt look flitted across her face. “You can see exactly what that gets you.”

Guilt cut through him. He was the reason his mom had dropped out of school. As soon as her parents had learned she was pregnant, they’d offered her one choice.

Give up the baby or give up her nice home in Kenner, her education and her family.

For reasons he still didn’t understand, she’d chosen him.

It was something Nick never let himself forget. But one day he was going to get all that back for her. She deserved it and for her, he’d wear this god-awful shirt.

Even if it got him killed...

And he’d smile through the pain of it until Stone and his crew kicked his teeth in.

Nick ate his bacon in silence. Maybe Stone wouldn’t be in school today. He could get malaria or the plague, or rabies or something.

Yeah, may the smarmy freak get a pox on his privates.

That thought actually made him smile as he shoved the grainy powdered eggs in his mouth and swallowed them. He forced himself not to shiver at the taste. But it was all they could afford.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and jerked. “Gotta go. I’m going to be late.”

She grabbed him for a bear hug.

Nick grimaced. “Stop sexually harassing me, Mom. I gotta go before I get another tardy.”

She popped him on the butt cheek before she let go. “Sexually harassing you. Boy, you don’t have any idea.” She ruffled his hair as he bent over to pick up his backpack.

Nick put both arms through and hit the door running. He launched himself from the dilapidated porch and sprinted down the street to where the streetcar stopped.

“Please don’t be gone...”

Otherwise he’d be doomed to another “Nick? What are we going to do with you, you white trash dirt?” lecture from Mr. Peters. The old man hated his guts and the fact that Nick was a scholarship kid at his snotty over privileged school seriously ticked Peters off. He’d like nothing better than to kick him out so that Nick wouldn’t “corrupt” the kids from the good families.

Nick’s lip curled as he tried not to think about the way those decent people looked at him like he was nothing. More than half their dads were regulars at the club where his mom worked, yet they were called decent while he and his mom were considered trash.

The hypocrisy of that didn’t sit well with him. But it was what it was. He couldn’t change anyone’s mind but his own.

Nick put his head down and ran full speed as he saw the streetcar stopped at his station.

Oh man...

He picked up speed and he broke out into a dead run. He hit the platform and leapt for the streetcar. He’d caught it just in time.

Panting, he shrugged his backpack off as he greeted the driver. “Morning Mr. Clemmons.”

The elderly African American man smiled at him. He was one of Nick’s favorite drivers. “Morning, Mr. Gautier. Your mom made you late again?”

“You know it.” He dug his money out of his pocket and quickly paid before taking a seat. Winded and sweating, he leaned back and let out a deep breath, grateful he wasn’t going to be late.

Unfortunately, he was still sweating when he reached school.

Suck it up, Nick. You made it on time. It’s all good.

Holding his head high in spite of the snickers and comments about his shirt, he walked across the yard and through the doors like he owned them. It was the best he could do.

“Ew! He’s dripping wet. Is he too poor to own a towel?”

“Looks like he went fishing in the Pontchartrain and came up with that godawful shirt instead of a real fish.”

“That’s cause he couldn’t miss it. I’ll bet it even glows in the dark.”

“I bet there’s a naked hobo somewhere wanting to know who stole his clothes. Gah, how long has he owned those shoes anyway? I think my dad wore a pair like that in the eighties.”

Nick turned a deaf ear to them and focused on the fact that they really were stupid. None of them would be here if their parents weren’t loaded. He was the scholarship kid. They probably couldn’t have even spelled their names right on the exam he’d aced to get in.

That was what mattered most.

His bravado lasted until he reached his locker where Stone and crew were loitering.

Great, just great.

Stone Blakemoor was the kind of creep who gave jocks a bad name. They weren’t all like that and he knew it. Nick had several friends who were on the football team– starters no less, not seat warmers like Stone.

Still, when you thought of an arrogant jock-rock, Stone was aptly named. It was definitely a self-fulfilling moniker his parents had labeled him with.

Stone snorted as Nick stopped beside his group. “Hey Gautier? I saw your mom naked last night– shaking her butt in my dad’s face so that he’d put a dollar in her G-string. He got a good feel of her too. Said she’s got a nice set of-“

Before he could think better of it, Nick swiped him upside the head with his backpack as hard as he could.

“Fight!” Someone shouted while Nick wrapped Stone in a headlock.

A crowd gathered round, chanting, “fight, fight, fight.”

Somehow Stone escaped his hold and hit him so hard in the sternum, it took the breath from him. Dang, he was a lot stronger than he looked. He hit like a jackhammer.

Furious, Nick started for him only to find one of the teachers suddenly between them.

Ms. Pantall.

The sight of her petite form calmed him instantly. He wasn’t about to hit an innocent person, especially not a woman. She narrowed her eyes at him and pointed down the hall. “To the office, Gautier. Now!”

Cursing under his breath, Nick picked his backpack up from the tiled beige floor and glared at Stone who at least had a busted lip.

So much for not getting into trouble.

But what was he supposed to do? Let the weasel scum insult his mom?

Disgusted, he entered the office and sat in the corner chair outside the principal’s door. Stone and three friends came in right behind him and sat down on the opposite side.

Ms. Pantall left them to go talk to Mr. Peters.

As soon as she was gone, Stone tossed a wadded up piece of paper at him. “Where did you get that shirt, Gautier? Goodwill or did you find it in a Dumpster? Nah, I bet you rolled a hobo for it.”

Nick refused to rise to the bait this time. Besides he could handle insults directed at him. It was the ones against his mother than raised him to fighting mad.

And this was why most private schools had uniforms, but Stone didn’t want to wear one and since his father all but owned the school...

Nick got to be mocked for the clothes his mom thought were respectable. Why don’t you ever listen to me, Mom? Just once...

“What? No smart comeback?”

Nick flipped him off...

At the same exact moment Peters came out and saw him.

Lady Luck is definitely on vacation today...

“Gautier,” he growled. “Get in here. Now!”

With a heavy sigh, Nick got up and went inside the office he knew as well as his own home. Peters stayed outside, no doubt talking to Stone while he was forced to wait. He took the chair to the right and sat there, staring at the pictures of Peters’s wife and kids. They had a nice house with a yard and in one photo, his daughters played with a white puppy.

Nick stared at them. What would it be like to live that way? He’d always wanted a dog, but since they could barely afford to feed themselves, a pooch was out of the question. Not to mention their landlord would die if they had one in their rented condo even though there wasn’t much more damage a dog could do to the rundown shack.

After a few minutes, Peters came in and went to his desk. Without a word, he picked up the phone.

Nick panicked. “What are you doing?”

“I’m calling your mother.”

Terror ripped through him. “Please, Mr. Peters, don’t do that. She had to work a double shift last night and tonight too. She’s only going to get about four hours of sleep today and I don’t want to worry her about nothing.” Not to mention, she’d cream his butt royally for this.

He dialed the number anyway.

Nick ground his teeth as anger and fear whipped through his entire being.

“Miss Gautier?” Could there be anymore loathing in his tone? “I wanted to let you know that Nick is being expelled from school for the rest of the week.”

His stomach hit the floor. His mom was going to kill him when he got home. Why couldn’t Peters just shoot him and put him out of his misery?

Peters glared mercilessly at him. “No, he was fighting again, and I’m sick of his thinking he can come in here and attack decent people anytime he feels like it for no apparent reason. He has to learn to control his temper. Honestly, I’m tempted to call the police. In my opinion, he should be sent to public school where they can handle troubled kids like him. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. He doesn’t belong here.”

Nick died a little with every word. Kids like him...

He zoned out so that he wouldn’t have to hear the rest of Peters’ tirade about how worthless he was. He already knew the truth in his heart. The last thing he needed was someone else voicing it.

After a few minutes, Peters hung up the phone.

Nick gave him a sullen stare. “I didn’t start it.”

Peters curled his lip. “That’s not what the others say. Who am I supposed to believe, Gautier? A hoodlum like you or four honor students?”

He was supposed to believe the one telling the truth which happened to be the hoodlum. “He insulted my mother.”

“That’s no excuse for violence.”

That went down his spine like a shredder. The sanctimonious pig– Nick couldn’t let that go unanswered. “Really? Well you know, Mr. Peters, I saw your mom naked last night and for an old broad, she has really nice–“

”How dare you!” he shouted, coming to his feet to grab Nick up by his shirt. “You foul-mouthed little-“

”I thought you said insulting your mom was no excuse for violence.”

Peters trembled as rage mottled his skin. His grip tightened and a vein throbbed in his temple. “My mother isn’t a Bourbon Street stripper. She’s a good, God-fearing woman.” He shoved Nick away from him. “Get your things and get out.”

God-fearing, huh? Strange how Nick and his mom went to mass every Sunday and at least twice during the week and the only time he ever saw Peters or his mom there was on holidays.

Yeah...

Hypocrite to the core. He despised people like Peters.

Nick scooped his backpack up from the floor and left. There was a security guard waiting outside the office for him to escort him to his locker. Just like a criminal.

Might as well get used to it. Some things ran in the blood. At least he’s not handcuffing me.

Yet.

Hanging his head low, he tried not to look at anyone as the other students sniggered and whispered about him.

“That’s what happens when you come from trash.”

“I hope they don’t let him back in.”

“Serves him right.”

Nick ground in his teeth in anger as he neared his locker and reached for the combination lock.

Brynna Addams was pulling her books out, two doors down. Tall with dark brown hair, she was very pretty and one of the few people who hung with Stone and crew that Nick could stand.

She paused to look at them with a frown that only deepened when she saw the guard with him. “What’s up, Nick?”

“Got expelled.” He paused before he swallowed his pride. Again. “Could I ask a favor?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Sure.”

“Could you get my assignments so that I don’t fall behind?”

“Absolutely. You want me to email them to you?”

And I stupidly thought I couldn’t feel any worse. “Don’t have a computer at home.”

Her cheeks darkened. “Sorry. Um, where do you need me to take them?”

Nick was grateful she was decent- unlike the rest of the jerks she ran with. “I’ll come by your house after school and get it.”

She wrote down her address while he pulled all of his books out. “I’ll be home about four.”

“Thanks, Brynna. I really appreciate it.” He tucked the paper in his back pocket, then allowed the security guard to escort him off campus.

Heartsick over having to face his mother, he made his way back home to their side of the ghetto and dreaded every step that took him closer to his door.

Inside their crappy house, his mother was waiting on him with a stern frown on her face. Dressed in a threadbare pink robe, she looked about as tired and ticked off as he’d ever seen her.

He dropped his backpack to the floor. “You should be asleep, Mom.”

Her eyes cut him to the quick and made him feel even lower than Peters had. “How can I sleep when my boy’s been thrown out of school for fighting? You of all people know how hard it is for me to keep you there. What I have to do to pay for your books and lunches. Why would you be so stupid as to throw this chance away? What were you thinking?”

Nick didn’t say anything because the truth would kill her and he didn’t want her to feel as bad as he did when there was nothing she could do about it.

I’m the man of the family. It was all he knew.

Take care of your mom, boy, or you’ll answer to me. You lip off to her and I’ll cut out your tongue. You make her cry and I’ll kill you myself. His father was pretty worthless, but the one thing about him was that he made good on his threats. And since he’d already killed twelve people, Nick figured he wouldn’t think twice about killing him either since the man had no great love of him.

So he kept his anger locked in and refused to say anything.

“Don’t you get sullen on me. I’m sick of that look on your face. Tell me why you attacked that kid. Now.”

Nick clenched his teeth tight.

“Answer me, Nick, or so help me, I’ll spank you even at your age.”

He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at her ludicrous threat. Even at fourteen, he was more than a head taller than his tiny mother and he had a good forty pounds on her. “He made fun of me.”

“And for that you’d jeopardize your entire future? What were you thinking? He laughed at you. So what? Believe me, that’s not the worst thing that will ever happen to you. You have to grow up, Nicky and stop acting like a baby. Just because someone mocks you is no reason to fight. Now is it?”

No. He swallowed attacks against him all the time. What he wouldn’t suffer were attacks against his mom. “I’m sorry.”

She held her hand up. “Don’t even go there. You’re not sorry. I can see it in your eyes. I am so disappointed in you. I thought I’d taught you better, but apparently you’re determined to grow up into a no account criminal just like your daddy, in spite of everything I do to keep you straight. Now go to your room until I calm down. You can stay there for the rest of the day.”

“I’m supposed to work this afternoon. Ms. Liza needs me to help move her stock around in the storeroom.”

She growled. “Fine. You can go, but then it’s straight home. You hear me? I don’t want you wasting time with any of those hoodlums you call friends.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Nick headed to his “room” and pulled the blankets closed. Sick and tired of it all, he sat down on the mattress and leaned his head back against the wall where he saw the pieces of the ceiling that were discolored and peeling up.

And then he heard it...

The sound of his mother’s tears coming through the wall of her bedroom. God, how he hated that sound.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he whispered, wishing he’d killed Stone where the creep stood.

One day... one day he was going to get out of this hellhole. Even if he had to kill someone to do it.

Reading through some emails this morning and there was one semi-hostile one about the length of my heroes' hair in the DH books. The reader was very upset that *all* my heroes have long hair and that it was "getting old" to read about all these guys with really long hair. This criticism baffles me as much as the ones who say that I have a problem with blonds and red-heads in my books. The readers who want to know why I hate blonde and red-headed women and portray them so rarely and badly in my books.

While Artemis is red-headed, that is not my choice. She's usually red-headed in mythology (and she's not one of my heroines). And I guess those readers have never seen a photo of me and my red hair (for that matter most of my lifelong friends have red hair) so obviously there's no problem there on my end with red-heads.

But the email got me to thinking and so I decided to compile a list to show that my heroes and heroines have all sorts of hair colors and lengths...

Julian - starts with long blond hair (because that would have been the fashion of his day) and he cuts it short in the first chapters of the book. His hair is short in all the rest of the books.

Kyrian - short blond hair. Not cropped to his head, it's shaggy, but short.

Talon - definitely short. He has two thin braids that trail to his shoulders, but his hair is actually quite short.

Zarek - short black hair.

Wulf is the first long-haired hero in the DH series with black hair.

Vane - long multi colored dark hair

Valerius - longish dark hair in a pony-tail

Alexion - shoulder length curly blond hair (I don't think of it as long, but some might)

Dante - short black hair

Rafael - bald

Wren - starts with long dreadlocks, but cuts it short in the book and it's short in later appearances

Ravyn - shoulder length black hair

Arik - long black hair

Aidan - short blond hair

Sin - very short black hair

Xypher - shoulder length black hair

Acheron - really long, all colors of hair but it's also short blond in the first half of his book

Stryker - short black

Jericho - short black and longer blond

Fang - short brown hair

Dev is long blond hair

V'Aidan short black hair

Gallagher short black hair

Fury has had both

So out of 25 heroes, we have 18-19 with short or no hair and only 7-8 with long hair (I actually only consider 3 of the 7 to have long hair, the other 4 have it to their shoulders which to me isn't really long). Now granted some groups such as the Peltier bears mostly have long hair, but they run a biker bar and are bears so it's a little different and is a group thing more than my personal preference. Wolves as a rule have short hair. Jackals have short hair. Panthers usually run long with their locks.

Heroines:

Grace dark hair

Amanda auburn

Sunshine black hair

Astrid blond

Cassandra blond

Bride auburn hair

Tabby auburn hair

Danger auburn hair

Maggie blond

Susan blond

Geary brownish blond

Leta black hair

Kat blond

Simone dark brown

Tory brown hair

Zephyra blond

Delphine blond

Aimee blond

Sam dark blond

Erin dark hair

Pandora dark hair

Retta red hair

Celena black hair

Lia plays with her hair color

So with the 24 heroines we have:

5 red hair

7 black

10 blond

1 brown

1 other

I think it's the brown haired women who should be complaining LOL.

And we have diversity. Sunshine is Native American. Celena and Rafe are African-American. Simone is mixed race. Dante is part Spanish and part Italian. We also have many hunters who've been introduced who are African, Japanese, Spanish, Mexican, Chinese, Indian, Native Amercian, Muslim, etc. The reason I set up the DH world the way I did was so that I would have a very wide canvas to paint with. I didn't want to be limited by anything, other than the Daimons being Greek and blond (which as we've seen with Stryker L'Oreal can fix).

What I think gets in the way is simply Plato's Theory of Aesthetics. Plato (put very simply for space reasons) stipulated that all of us hold within us our own ideals of what makes something beautiful and acceptable. It’s as unique as we are and it varies widely person to person.

What one person considers “fat” might be another person’s “normal.” What one person considers “skinny” is another person’s "heavy." My concept of those terms has changed throughout various periods of my life. To me brown hair is dark blond with some exceptions. Likewise what I consider short hair on a man, my hubby would considers long.

From the men I’ve been around, shoulder length and above isn’t long hair on a guy. It’s what I think of as normal. To me, long hair on a man has to be something he can pull back in a ponytail and it has to be over 3 inches as a ponytail. That’s what I call long.

My husband considers anything more than an inch and a half long hair. We have many discussions over my middle son’s hair which he thinks is very, very long, yet it doesn’t go past his ears so to me it’s really short. But Roo does have a head full of curls which I love.

I’m not criticizing anyone’s perceptions. They are what they are. But as a writer it does sometimes get in our way. Back when I was in a critique group we used to have a saying "Author's Brain Not Included" for whenever we'd write something and then the person reading it would have a whole different perception of what we intended. It can be amusing and it can be horrifying. And I can see where if a reader grabbed the 7 books out of order with all the long-haired heroes, they would generalize that all my heroes have long hair or all my heroines are blond when, in fact, they're not.

Now I do admit that I have a lot of tall people but there's a reason for that. Since the Daimons are descended from Apollo, they're all tall. Ditto the Were-Hunters (unless they're mix bloods). Artemis picks tall Dark-Hunters because shorter Hunters are at a disadvantage when fighting the much taller and stronger Daimons. Yes, a shorter person can win a fight with a larger one (I know this from personal experience), but it's harder to win against a larger opponent in hand to hand combat (again, I know this from personal experience). Being 5'2", I don't have the reach of someone who's 5'10" and taller. It makes it a lot harder on me to win. So the taller Dark-Hunters level the fighting field. But not all of them are tall. We do have some Hunters under six feet. They're just rare.

Basically, I like having a variety of people in my books, just like in my life. Yes, there are a lot with long hair. But there are also a lot with short hair. I don't have a preference for one or the other (as I said my hubby's hair is extremely short and my brother's hair is very long- I think both of them are incredibly handsome and their hair suits them both). The characters in my books are what dictate their physical descriptions. Their values, backgrounds and beliefs. Just like in real life. Hairstyle varies and is a life choice each person makes. Viva la difference!

Hugs!

I was never ever a coffee or tea drinker. My grandmother drank both all day long, but I hated the way they smelled and I hated the way they tasted.

Then everything changed. In college, a friend worked at a coffee/dessert shop and we’d hang out there drinking espresso and cappuccino (at her employee discounted price). I don’t know why I liked bitter coffees, but I did. Unfortunately, back in the day, coffee makers for those were way out of my price range. And coffee shops that served them were rare. So after I left school, I no longer drank coffee.

A couple of years ago, a fan kept extolling the greatness of caramel macchiatos. I still wasn’t convinced. But one night as I drove past a Starbuck’s I said, “What the heck. I used to like coffee. Maybe it won’t suck.”

It really didn’t suck. In fact, I became addicted and at the time the nearest Starbuck’s was 14.8 miles (one direction) from my house. The fact I know that scares me (it probably does you too). Hubby was a champ who would make Starbuck’s runs for me, bringing back three or four to keep while I worked.

And then everything changed again. One of my best buds, Ellen is a realtor and we occasionally meet for lunch and look through houses she has on the market. We were traipsing through one when I saw this awesomely strange coffee pot with these rails of coffees called Flavia. Ooooo. Hubby’s coffee pot had broken and he wanted a replacement. Hubby is one of those “Don’t come near me in the morning unless you’re bearing coffee” people. I needed to get him a maker very soon.

My curiosity was piqued. I ordered the coffee maker for hubby and discovered magic in a pot! OMG, not only are the coffees really good, you can mix and match them to make really easy chocochinos, lattes, teas, hot cocoa and more yummy concoctions than you can imagine. One of my faves is the peppermint hot chocolate. The packets are individual, single serve. Some are powder, but the teas are actual leaves and the coffees are grinds. YUM! And since I’ve discovered the mighty Flavia machine, they have now opened not one, but 4 Starbuck’s within 5 miles of my house... *sigh.*

Now on to tea... let me reiterate that I HATE TEA. Never understood the charm, not even at Starbuck’s. Tried to drink hot teas in college, but it never caught on with me. Then one day a place called Teavana opened in the mall. Hubby wanted to try the samples. I shuddered while I watched him taste them.

He wanted some. Sighing, I was a little aggravated since we had nothing to make tea with. No teapot, nothing, and these were loose leaf teas requiring real preparation. But as the manager helped him, she made a comment to me that I’ve never forgotten. “It’s not that you don’t like tea. You just haven’t found the right tea.”

She opened up a world to me that I’ve never forgotten. Since that magical day about 4 years ago where we went through the wall of tea sniffing and smelling them, I’ve been addicted. We now have a coffee/tea station in the kitchen with all of our fun drinks. My boys’ friends love it and say that visiting us is like visiting Starbuck’s.

My eyes have been opened. I still don’t drink most coffees or teas. But I have those I adore and some teas I can’t live without. So to those who think they don’t drink tea or coffee, I will give you the best advice that was once given to me. It’s not that you don’t drink tea or coffee, it’s that you haven’t found the right tea or coffee :)

If you’d like to explore, my two fave places are myflavia.com and teavana.com

Bon Appétit!