2012 Sexiest Men Alive Only In Our Imagination

We’ve lit our candles, trimmed our trees, maxed out our Master Cards, (or observed whatever annual traditions generally accompany the December phenomenon of exchanging gifts and eating our weight in calorie-laden treats).   We’re almost ready to raise a glass of bubbly and welcome 2013. But before we turn the page on 2012, let’s take a look back at some of the highlights of the year. 

By highlights, of course, I mean men.  Sure, Time Magazine has their little, “Man of the Year,” thing, (congratulations, Mr. Obama).  People Magazine owns the whole “Sexiest Man Alive” franchise, (helloooo Channing Tatum).  But I’m here to review the really important men of the year, the men who captured our hearts, our minds and ...ahem…our fantasies, namely, the SEXIEST FICTIONAL MEN OF 2012.  

Who qualifies?  Any hero in any work of romantic fiction published during 2012.  Who decides?  Well, it’s every woman for herself, but these are my top five, in no particular order:

1)       Roarke, from J.D. Robb’s “In Death” series – Hey, I didn’t say the hero had to make his debut in 2012, now, did I?  I just finished “Delusion in Death,” and, although I had to build my own murder board to remember all the suspects and I’m still not 100% sure what the hell went down, plot-wise, one fact remains undeniable.  Roarke rocks. 

2)      Quinn Sobel, from Robin Bielman’s “Yours at Midnight” – The book is hot off the presses, and the hero is just plain hot!  There’s something irresistible about a guy with an effed-up past finally working through his issues, realizing what, (and who), he wants…and setting out to get her.

3)      Reid Andrews, from Gina L. Maxwell’s “Seducing Cinderella” – Yes, he’s a mixed martial arts fighter, but that’s not what makes him sexy.  Yes, he gives the heroine lessons in “the art of seduction,” but that wasn’t what won me over.  When she heads out for a date with the guy she’s set her misguided sights on, Reid swallows his sinking heart and says, “Have a great time.  Don’t forget to flirt with the waiter.” 

4)      Paul Donovan, from Lynne Marshall’s “Too Close for Comfort”—Paul’s been around the block.  He’s picked up a few moves, and he’s not afraid to use ‘em.  Not even on his ex-wife.  She never stands a chance, because despite their history and shared baggage, he’s a keeper.    

5)      Josh Scott, MD, from Jill Shalvis’ “Forever and a Day”—In the sixth installment of the Lucky Harbor series, Shalvis gives us Josh Scott:  Daddy, dog-owner, and one seriously hot doc.  He’s the perfect blend of tough, control-addicted alpha and natural-born nurturer.  Sexy with a capital “S.”     

Got your own list of favorite sexy heroes?  If so, I hope you’ll share a few of the men who made your heart pound a little harder in 2012.  Also hoping you have a fun, safe New Year’s Eve and that 2013 brings wonderful things your way!

Family Tree

I’m a Christmas tree junkie.  I love the big, fancily decorated trees at South Coast Plaza, (one complete with a kiddie train)!  I love the comparatively simple one at the Malibu Country Mart.  I love the pretty, white-lit, blue-and-silver color-coordinated tree at my friends G&M’s house.  It looks so classy.  But, of course, I reserve the best of my love for our own Christmas tree. 

I’ll be the first to admit the Martha Stewarts of the world would take one look at our tree and promptly convert.  Aesthetically, it’s a mess.  The star at the top tips to one side like a drunk uncle.  The boughs droop under the weight of multi-colored lights and a jumble of ornaments of every size, style and color.  But what nobody except Hubs and I fully appreciate is this seemingly humble tree’s ability to transport us through time.

Because of our pets and the little guy, this year we hung the keepsake ornaments on the higher limbs, which left Kitty free to declare war on the cheap, and, as it turned out, breakable colored orbs Hubs and I probably spent a whole fiver on at Third Street Bazaar during one of our first Christmases together when we lived in NYC .  This was approximately a hundred years ago, however, so they might have been antiques by now.  My high school Espanol is rusty, but I believe, “Hecho en Mexico” translates into “rare antique.” Si? 

As my eyes move up the tree, tucked along the side closest to the wall, I spy a small, tarnished brass bell with “Merry Christmas Samanthe, 1978” written along the rim.  I’m transported to the Christmas Store at the mall in Hagerstown, Maryland, where my parents bought matching ornaments for my sister and me and we watched the man painstakingly engrave them while we waited.  Regrettably, this ornament always gets relegated to the back of the tree because I like to think most people assume my first Christmas occurred sometime in the early 1980’s.  Nobody actually assumes this, but I like to think they do.

I see ornaments collected over the years from co-workers, friends, and a bunch from my mom, who traditionally includes an ornament in the Christmas gift splurge.   The year 2008 is well-represented on our tree, in the form of several “Baby’s First Christmas,” ornaments.  And, now, we have a few quirky, crafty, homespun ornaments wrought by clumsy little hands, (no, not mine), and an expertly wielded glue gun, (again, not me, but various preschool teachers).  Looking at them shifts my Christmas Tree Time Machine into the future.  I envision those ornaments hanging on another tree, in another house, and a not-so-little guy explaining to his own kiddos how he made them when he was small…and his crazy mother saved them all these years.  Then, hopefully, they’ll pile into their flying car and visit Hubs and me at the old folks’ home.

I hope your holiday season affords you a chance to revisit many happy memories and forge a few new ones!  

Pretty Little Lies

Relationship experts forever harp on the importance of honesty in a marriage.  I’d like to get real for one second and stress the critical role of dishonesty in domestic bliss. 

This past Saturday evening, Hubs and I hosted a holiday get-together at chez Beck.  Our day involved a lot of cleaning, decorating and party set-up, and things paralleled pretty well until about five-thirty.  Around then, Hubs turned to me, said something like, “I’m going to go get dressed for the party,” and wandered off down the hall.  Moments later, he wandered back into the living room, freshly shaved, wearing a red sweater, dark jeans, and loafers.  Effortless perfection in less than ten minutes.  

I peeled the little guy off me, (don’t Bjorn your baby – he or she will assume you are their mule for life).   He immediately spider-monkeyed onto Daddy, and I went off for my ten minutes of personal prep. time.  Throw on a dress, heels; fluff the hair … easy, right?

One would think.   First stop, my closet, where I spent way more than ten minutes looking at the jam-packed jumble of crap (closets…not just for clothes anymore!), wondering whether to dig in or just take the easy road and set fire to the darn thing.   It took another ten minutes to find my go-to, can’t-fail, LBD.  I put it on and immediately realized I have not been working out lately, but I have continued to eat as if I run twenty-miles a week.  The effect was less than flattering, to say the least.  So, now I’m standing in my closet, in my underwear, thinking maybe I can find the red dress I wore to a Christmas party last year – the one made of some miracle spandex/Lycra/lipo-suction blend that hides a multitude of sins.  Spent another five minutes digging through what I was starting to call the tomb of the cursed fashion victim when fate smiled on me and I found the red dress.  I put it on, held my breath, and managed to pull the zipper up about an inch.  I straightened my spine, planted my feet, held my breath tighter, and zipped some more.  Finally I hunched forward, Quasimodo-style, threw my arm over my shoulder and yanked the zipper with all my might.  Not pretty, but effective.  I got the zipper up.  Once on, the dress didn’t look too bad, and I could suck in about one life-sustaining breath per minute.   Acceptable.

On to shoes.  My awesome, sexy red silk slides with the gold embroidery that go with the dress are open-toed.  A quick glance at my feet told me my pedicure looked … um …rustic.  In the end, I decided to wear a pair of basic, black, closed-toed pumps. 

I made my way to the bathroom for hair and make-up.  As I gathered hair supplies I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror over the sink.  Holy smokes!  Who let Grizzly Adams in?  Oh … wait …shit.  That’s me.  I’d meant to get to the salon earlier in the week and let them work their waxing magic, but it never happened.  So I plucked and tweezed until my eyes watered and I felt reasonably certain people wouldn’t greet me with, “Goonie Goo Goo.”  (Eddie Murphy fans, you’re welcome).

I still needed to do my hair, but, by now, I also really needed a drink.  Too bad leaving the bathroom put me at risk of running into a guest.  Note to self:  bathroom mini-bar. 

Doing my hair took a little longer than anticipated too, and involved the creative use of mascara.  Don’t ask.  All I can say is, on closer inspection, not all of the lighter strands in my mop turned out to be blonde.   

Over an hour after I’d left for my ten minute quick-change, I finally made my way back into the living room, all frazzled and duct-taped together.  Hubs looked up as I came in.  I don’t know what thoughts actually tumbled through is mind, but he smiled and said, “You look beautiful.”

Keep your honesty, my friends.  I’ll take my pretty little lies.

Sweet Surrender

I’m one of those girls perennially trying to lose ten pounds.  My strategy for most of the year involves an uber-restrictive diet of wine, cheese and chocolate, and an intense daily exercise regime consisting of walking the Chihuahua across the street, standing in place while she does her business, and then carrying her home.  Since I’m putting in all this effort, I really can’t explain why the extra pounds don’t melt right off.  But they don’t.  It’s an honest-to-God battle.  I think maybe there’s something out of whack with my metabolism.

Be that as it may, around the holidays, I usually let my intense discipline lapse a bit.  Why not surrender to the inevitable?  Plus, nothing puts me in a Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Man frame of mind quicker than, say, a mouthful of peppermint bark.

This year the crap-fest started a little earlier than usual, because I offered to host the annual holiday get together for a group girlfriends.  As a conscientious hostess, I’m duty-bound to try out all the options before settling on a menu, right?  Right.

With that selfless mindset, I headed down to the Country Mart recently with the little guy to look around.  We hit the Crumbs Bakery, because I have proven, repeatedly, that it isn’t physically possible to pass by a Crumbs Bakery and not go in.  I’m no scientist, so the exact explanation eludes me, but it probably involves a tractor-beam, or mind control, or a positive ion bombardment.  Something.   The mere sight of all the fluffy, colorful cupcakes sends me to my happy place.   This visit, they had a whole display case of the little, “taste size,” cakes.  My inner hostess insisted we put a few to the test.  Our faves included the Good Guy, the Chocoloco, the Dulce de Leche and the Peanut Butter Cup.  I could have tried them all, but after splitting six, my son proclaimed, “Mommy, I’m a rocket!” and zoomed off to the playground with so much velocity I actually heard a sonic boom.  Mission accomplished.

Thinking it might be nice to kick off our holiday season with a home-baked treat, but knowing full-well the limits of my baking skills, I picked up the pre-decorated holiday sugar cookie dough from Ralphs.  I arranged the Santas, Frostys, Christmas Trees and Rudolphs on a non-greased cookie sheet and put them in the oven for the recommended eight-to-ten minutes.  Then I diligently tried each one.  Perfection.  Hubs and the little guy agreed.  Talk about a Christmas miracle! 

My gluttony continues.  Last Thursday my book club/drink club met at Toscanova in the Calabasas Commons.  I hadn’t been to the restaurant before.  All I knew was they had the space once occupied by the restaurant Mi Piace, which I really liked.  The good news is I think Toscanova is Italian for Mi Piace.   My taste-buds were none the wiser.  After downing some wine, discussing the book, (which didn’t take long ‘cause none of us finished it), enjoying some wine, eating dinner, drinking some wine, solving the world’s problems, and then having a little wine, we ordered dessert – one chocolate lava cake and one crème brulee.  Of course I had a bite … of each.  Okay, maybe more than one bite.  Maybe I blocked everyone else’s spoons like a hockey player hogging the puck.  All I can say in my defense is … yum, yum.    

Last night Hubs got a wild hair and, putting my store-bought-dough sugar cookies to shame, whipped up a batch of peanut butter, chocolate fudge.  Not that I’ve ever had any doubts about who is the lucky one in our dynamic duo, but if I had, that fudge would have settled them.  Heck, I had some for breakfast this morning. 

I love the holidays.  I really do.  And I particularly love spending them at home, as we’re doing this year.  I just hope by the time they’re over I can still fit into my house.

Got a favorite holiday indulgence?  You know I wanna hear all about it!

The Next Big Thing

My friend and awesome Entangled author Robin Bielman tagged me to participate in The Next Big Thing blog hop, and answer a few questions about my latest story.  Before we get to that though, jump over to Robin’s site at http://robinbielman.com/blog/ to read about her Next Big Thing.  While you’re there, check out her debut novel, WORTH THE RISK which came out in April to rave reviews!  Easily one of my top five reads of 2012.
 

Okay, on to The Next Big Thing:

What is your working title of your book?

I’m calling the darn thing DUMB BLONDE.

Where did the idea come from for the book?

Partially from my gutter-mind, which couldn’t help pondering the, (in my case), completely fictional question: “What would happen if you got caught skinny dipping in your hot neighbor’s pool?” Partially from a terrific book called LEARNING TO BREATHE by Priscilla Warner, (one of the authors of THE FAITH CLUB), in which she details her lifelong struggle with panic attacks.  She approached this very heavy subject with humor and courage and I took a lot of inspiration from her journey.

What genre does your book fall under?

Contemporary category romance … little bit of humor, heaping dose of heart and a whole lotta sexy!

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

For my hero, I call dibs on Colin Egglesfield (Google him, girls.  You’ll be glad you did).  For my heroine, I can totally picture Emma Stone.

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

Can an introverted, nervous-by-nature children's book author find love with her gorgeous new neighbor, a high-profile media personality who renders her speechless just by saying, “Hello?”

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

My Magic 8 Ball says “Ask Again Later.”  We’ll see what the query letters reveal.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

About four months.  Now the second draft …

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

Hmm.  To try my hand at playing the Amazon algorithm … If you liked Jill Shalvis’ HEAD OVER HEELS you might also enjoy DUMB BLONDE.   

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

Talking with a group of friends and discovering nearly every one of us had, directly or indirectly, dealt with panic attacks or social anxiety.  Not surprising, really, because according to the Internet, (my trusted source for all things), approximately 15 million Americans suffer from social anxiety disorder.  I realized almost everyone could relate, at some level. 

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

Did I mention the whole lotta sexy?

And now, for the cherry on the cake of my blog, here are the five amazing, talented, holy sh*t, I can’t believe these ladies agreed to participate in a blog hop with me (!), authors who will post their projects on Wednesday, December 12:

Robin Covington – Entangled Publishing’s Indulgence line released her bestselling debut novel, A NIGHT OF SOUTHERN COMFORT, earlier this year.  If you’re like me, you can not wait to hear what she’s got in store for us next!  Check her Burning Up the Sheets blog next Wed. at http://robincovingtonromance.com/burning-up-the-sheets/.

Karen Erickson – Busy, busy girl!  Karen currently writes for Samhain Publishing, Entangled Publishing’s Bliss and Brazen Imprints and Avon Impulse.  Her latest release, an Entangled Bliss titled, JANE’S GIFT, captured my attention with a beautiful, sweet holiday cover, but it landed on my Kindle after I read the blurb.  Christian Nelson may be my new favorite hero.  Seriously.   Hit her blog on Wed., December 12^th to see what she’s bringing us next.  http://karenerickson.blogspot.com/.

Lisa Kessler – Award-winning short-story writer, musician, and author of Entangled’s popular Night Walker series, Lisa hooked me hard with her NIGHT THEIF novella.  Bedtime came and went while I powered through that book!  I know she’s got a new one in the works.  Hop over to Lisa’s Lair next Wed. at http://lisakessler.wordpress.com/ to see if she’ll give us a tease.

Jennifer Probst – MARRIAGE BARGAIN.  Need I say more?  But if the Marriage to a Billionaire series is all you know of this New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author, it’s time to dive deeper.  She pens sexy contemporary romances. She weaves erotic tales.  She writes family-friendly stories.  Frankly, she could release an analysis of the federal tax code and I’d read it. But what’s she working on next?  Hop on her blog next Wed. at http://jenniferprobst.com/blog/ to find out!

Katee Robert – All I can say is, if you haven’t read New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Katee Robert’s, WRONG BED, RIGHT GUY, from Entangled’s Brazen line, (the first of the Come Undone series), you’re missing out.  Big Time. I stalk her on Twitter and I know she’s been writing up a storm, so stop by her blog next Wed. at http://kateerobert.com/ for a little glimpse at her next big thing.  Come Undone #2?

 

Easy Target

It happened again.  It shouldn’t have, because after all our history, I know damn well I can’t control myself where you’re concerned, but for some reason I thought this time would be different.   As soon as I walked through your door I felt my resolve slip away.  My heart beat faster, my eyes tried to drink in everything about you at once, and my hands … well … there’s no way I could stop myself from touching.  And, of course, once I touched I had to possess. 

You seduced me with the usual ease, despite my best efforts to remain detached and businesslike.  Sure, I had an etched-in-stone agenda I’d vowed to stick to.  Sure, I convinced myself I could go to you, do what needed to be done, and get on with my life, but I should have known better.  You may call yourself Target, you dangerously seductive shopper’s paradise, but you’re being ironic.   I’m the real target, and the bulls-eye is right, smack in the middle of my pocketbook.

This most recent indiscretion started innocently enough.  I went to you for a seemingly simple thing … two birthday cards.  Didn’t even get a cart, just grabbed a basket on my way in.  Even now, I can’t fully explain how I ended up back in the parking lot, all giddy and light-headed, with a trunk-load of stuff.  I mean, I can kind of explain the two Nerf bowling sets and the Nerf ring toss.  Those went with the birthday cards and probably should have been on my list in the first place, and checking to see if you stocked them saved me a trip to Toys R Us.  Two rolls of gift wrap and three matching bows sort of sprang out of the toy purchases.  Organic, if you will. 

My real sins occurred somewhere in the home furnishing section.  (What the hell was I doing in the home furnishing section)?!  Shelves were involved, and a cabinet for the bathroom, a wrought-iron thingy for the hearth, that I thought would be the perfect container for a jumble of those big, spicy-smelling pine cones.  Then, wouldn’t you know, I found some throw pillows that looked as if they’d been custom made for our living room, and … well, the list goes on … and on.   The register receipt looked like a freaking streamer.

I did, at least, promptly confess the whole sordid affair to my husband.  He forgave me.  He’s no stranger to your charms.  Way back when we were first dating, he went to you for a bag of charcoal and came out with patio furniture.  Oh yeah, he knows all about you.

I’m not a shopaholic.  I can window shop my way through that Southern California retail Mecca known as South Coast Plaza without ever once reaching for my Visa card.  I can walk into a grocery store, purchase exactly the items on my list – nothing more, nothing less – and never feel even a twinge of temptation to stray.  Online shopping?  Click, click, clickety-click … I get what I logged on for and sign off.   You’re my weakness, Target, my wallet-wise Waterloo.  Something about your wide aisles, your endless assortment of everything, hooks me every time. 

I refuse to believe I’m the only sucker out there with a retail Achilles Heel.  C’mon, confess.   What’s your guilty shopping pleasure?  Antropologie?  Apple Store? Barnes & Noble?  Do tell!  

Also, join me here on Wed. (12/5) as I participate in The Next Big Thing blog hop and tease you with details about my latest work in progress.  Then, next Wed. (12/12) you will FOR SURE want to check out the five amazing authors I've tagged:  Robin Covington, Lisa Kessler, Karen Erickson, Katee Robert and Jennifer Probst.  Enjoy!!