Wednesday, June 30, 2010

The Lair Will be HOT in July!

    First of all, this month we have not ONE...

    Not TWO...

    But THREE launch parties for new Bandita books!

    July 2nd Aunty Cindy's Launch Party for The Wild Irish Sea will be a blarney-filled blast.

    July 6th will be Susan's long awaited Launch Party for her former Golden Heart winner, Money Honey.

    July 12th will be Kate's Launch
    Party for her first Silhouette Desire -- The Millionaire Meets His Match.

    We also have a wonderful selection of guests:

    July 7th Nancy chats with Patricia Rice about her new historical, The Wicked Wycherly, the first in the Rebellious Sons series.

    July 9th Tawny hosts Josie Brown, who will be chatting with us about her latest novel, Secret Lives of Husbands and Wives.

    July 16th Aunty Cindy hosts her buddy Marie Force for a return visit to celebrate her first e-book for Carina Press. Fatal Affair is the first in a series of romantic suspense stories set in Washington DC.

    July 19th Kate welcomes debut mystery writer Avery Aames who writes the Cheese Shop mystery series. Join her as she discusses The Long Quiche Goodbye and the romance of cheese!

    Young adult debut author Holly Cupala will be joining us on July 21, hosted by fellow YA writer Kirsten. Holly's book, Tell Me a Secret, is a gripping emotional story that's sure to attract adults and teens, and has gotten great reviews. We hear the bubbly and delightful Holly can't wait to hang out with a bunch of romance readers, so it should be a great time!

    July 23rd welcomes Tessa Adams with her new paranormal, Dark Embers. (check out that cover! HOT!)

    Contest news:

    Anna Campbell has a mini novella called 'Upon a Midnight Clear' in THE MAMMOTH BOOK OF REGENCY ROMANCE (released on 24th June in the U.K. and 27th July in the U.S.). To celebrate, she's giving away two signed copies! All you have to do is email her on and name two authors other than Anna Campbell who have stories in THE MAMMOTH BOOK OF REGENCY ROMANCE. You might find the answer in her June Latest News:
    or on the publisher's website:
    The contest closes 31st July, 2010 and for more details please visit her website:

    RWA's National Conference starts the last week of July, but the Lair will not be totally empty. Who knows what kind of cool treats might be in store? Please drop by to see what's going on with so many absent Banditas.

    Will Sven, the gladiators, and cabana boys get a much deserved vacation?

    Will the Golden Rooster stand the test of doing double duty in both the Lair and National in Orlando?

    Do you think we should give Sven and the others a few days off? Where should we send them on their vacations? And how do YOU like to cool off on a hot summer day?Source URL:
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Bandita Booty

    It was so awesome to have Pamela Palmer hang out with us - and even better, she offered THREE copies of DESIRE UNTAMED to three lucky winners. And the names drawn are:

    Blodeuedd, Bkwrm 26 and Gigi.

    Ladies, congratulations. If you'll drop Pam an email with Bandits Prize in the subject line and your shipping info, she'll get those books right out to you :-)

    And thanks to everyone for hanging out!!!Source URL:
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Minnesota Lynx vs. San Antonio Silver Stars

    If you haven't been to a Minnesota Lynx game yet, what are you waiting for?!?! Based in Minneapolis, this women's basketball team is the sister to the Minnesota Timberwolves and started their inaugural season in 1999. After making a few offseason transactions, the Lynx have been declared as the most-improved team as the 2010 season began. Now you can see the Minnesota Lynx play the San Antonio Silver Stars next Thursday, July 8th at the Target Center in Minneapolis!! Ticket King has some AMAZING lower level seats right behind the Lynx bench for just $65 a piece. Purchase your Minnesota Lynx vs. San Antonio Silver Stars tickets today and conveniently pick them up from our Minneapolis office, located right by the Metrodome. GO LYNX!!!Source URL:
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Widespread Panic Orpheum Theatre Tickets

    Formed in Athens, Georgia in 1986, Widespread Panic has risen to the elite status among the jam band circuit in America. Following in the steps of other southern rock jam bands such as the Allman Brothers, they are frequently compared to other jam band 'road warriors' such as the Grateful Dead & Phish. The band's name originates from lead guitarist Michael Houser's once-frequent panic attacks. Widespread Panic is known for never playing the same show twice with their show-to-show ritual of choosing the night's setlist. I saw them play at the 10,000 Lakes Festival last summer and now YOU can see Widespread Panic too! They'll be performing at the Orpheum Theatre in Minneapolis in exactly a week from today (Wed. July 7th) at 7:30 pm. Ticket King has a few Widespread Panic tickets left but I can guarantee they won't last much longer so grab them now if you would like to attend the show!Source URL:
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Wednesday giveaway!

    Today's giveaway is from Ruche, a fabulous California boutique with vintage-inspired pieces. They're offering one lucky winner a $100 gift certificate to perk up her summer wardrobe.

    (Ruche has super reasonable prices, so $100 would get a bunch of cute things -- for example, you could get two tops and a skirt, or a dress and sandals.)

    For a chance to win, please visit Ruche's shop and leave a comment below. A winner will be chosen at random tomorrow. Good luck!

    Update: Kelly from Maine is our lucky winner. xoSource URL:
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Styx, Foreigner, Kansas Target Center Tickets

    Three legendary rock bands will all be playing under one roof tomorrow night... Thats right- Styx, Foreigner & Kansas will all be at the Target Center in Minneapolis tomorrow evening at 7pm. Ticket King still has some really nice seats to choose from starting at just $85 each for lower level tickets right by the stage! That's a steal of a deal to see three bands in one night! Also, remember that your tickets can easily be picked up from our Minneapolis office, located right by the Metrodome at 212 Chicago Avenue. ROCK ON!
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Dear Universal, Could You Allow Me To Screen The Adjustment Bureau In Advance Of Its Release Date?

    If you know me and are aware of who I am and how I feel and my views of life and love and the world and the cinema and at the risk of jinxing it and at the risk of assigning it expectations which cannot possibly be reached (though, as I have stated before, I personally do not believe anything can be, as they say, built up too much), well, a man's gut reaction is his gut reaction and I have no choice but to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me movie gods. So here it is.

    "The Adjustment Bureau" might just be the greatest preview I've ever seen.

    Source URL:
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Guest Post: Bocce Ball

Needless Enemas

    Whew! New York has been hot!

    Hot with temper- atures over 85 degrees. I was walking outside and it was 88 degrees halfway through my walk. I felt faint and dizzy and weak trudging through the heat. I stopped at a magazine kiosk and bought an ice cold water. It refreshed me but it certainly did not take away the bone weariness of my body. When I reached the The Spot I literally staggered through the door, my shirt covered with sweat, and went into the office to tell Snow White that I was home. She said that she would be up tomorrow to check my room. Fine by me.

    I stumbled down the hall and ran into Roberto who was coming out of his office. I stopped him, asking if I could get a copy of my lease because I needed it for a mandatory meeting with HRA on Monday. He nodded. This was Friday, so he had three days. I jumped on the elevator and a scraggly old man walked in behind me. I had my headsets on, so when I saw his mouth move, I ignored him. But that was not enough for him. He reached out, waving at the air in front of my face to catch my attention. I pull one of the budsets from my ear canal. "Hot day, right?" He says to me with a grin. What the fuck are you bothering me for with this stupid assed small talk? Who the fuck cares what you think about the heat outside? I nod tiredly and stick my headset back into my ear. Dejectedly he walks off the elevator on his floor. If I'm lucky he'll remember me as an anti-social type of guy and never bother me again.

    I just hate small talk with these mental midgets. It's their way of making new friends, which means once you respond to them once, they'll run up in your face every time they see you to say hello, as if suddenly you've turned into a close friend for years. It's an open door to stupidity. Firstly, when I get home, I make a light lunch and then I go through my paperwork, sitting on the edge of my bed, sorting this out and compiling that. HRA documents on my left, 911 documents on my right. It takes fucking hours to make sense out of everything, putting them in date and thematic order. I feel sorry for individuals that lack a decent education trying to deal with this shit because it's quite complicated.

    Presently I find myself in my damn elevator again, waiting as it descends. It stops on a floor and an elderly lady walks in, taking a spot in the corner and rides silently. I breathe a sigh of relief until I see her lips move in the corner of my eye. I feign not to see her lips, but she takes a step from the corner and waves her hand in front of my face to catch my attention. I pull the headset from my ear and look at her. She smiles, returning to the corner of the elevator: "It's hot today isn't it?" I want to paint the walls of the elevator with her blood. No, actually I was going to go out and build a snowman. I nod. The elevator door opens and I walk out, not saying a word. It's time for another walk downtown.

    Shit yeah it's hot out, but I make the best of it. I get back achy and in pain. Today is Monday and I have my Mandatory Meeting today. I ride up in the elevator and stepping in with me is a tall, Black dude who looks like he should be in the fucking NBA. He towers over me. I stare at the door to the elevator. His hand waves in front of my face. I take the headset bud from my ear. "Wow, what a hot day." He says with a hit in the head with a hammer grin. I stare back at him for a moment, then nod. I put the headsets back in my ear and watch him leave on his floor.

    Just my fucking luck. I mean it. Every needy psychopath in this fucking place has to catch my attention for this silly small talk. It's enough to drive you to bloody murder. It seems that every time I take the damned elevator there will be someone waving their hands in my face to catch my attention. I mean, do my headsets have a big sign on them that pleads to bother me? I mean really, if I was living in a decent residential building, riding up the elevator wearing headsets I bet you a million dollars to your one that a tall, long legged, attractive woman with blow-job lips wouldn't wave her supple hand in front of my face to ask me about the weather. Trust me.

    But I bet you some neurotic chick with her hair standing on end will. I go downstairs again and speak with Roberto in his office and get a copy of my lease and bring it upstairs to photocopy it on my little photocopy printer, gather all of my evidentiary paperwork together for my mandatory meeting and a book to read while in the stupid waiting room. I attack the heat a second time today and this time the weakness hits me immediately. My head swoons and I stop at the entrance to my building. This is new. I say to myself, if I feel nauseous I will go back upstairs and lay down in the air conditioning. If not, I'd better drag my corpse to this meeting or they will have a field day on my ass. Hell, they're blaming me for not going to meetings that I have gone to, and I'm going to NOT show up to one?

    I gather my wits about me and hit the Way, grateful that the train car is air conditioned. I get off at 215th street and walk uptown to the Job Center and get on a long line. The line moves fast, and I am given a sheet of paper with a number on it 'PM1004'. Walking into the crowded waiting room I take a seat, reading my book. After twenty minutes, and several numbers are called a weak female voice calls out from behind the reception desk a distance away. It sounds like "Ho..." and then some kind of unintelligible, heavily accented garble as if this bitch had marbles in her mouth. Then I notice no one standing up to the name. She calls the long name out again, but this time it sounds like it's emanating from her puckered ass instead of her opened mouth.

    I stand up, craning my head to direct an ear at her from a distance. She notices me and calls out: "Are......?" Again, the mouthful of cum reply. I walk up to the counter, look lady, I don't know what the hell you are saying, I can't understand a word coming out of your head. Who are you calling? She walks off, back into the building and I stand there for a moment before going through the glass doors on my left and meeting her just inside of Cubicle Hell standing next to a Big, Black, Burly security guard. He looks as if he's about to punch in my face just for walking though the door unannounced. In a heavily accented West Indian accent she asks in a low tone, "Are you Hobobob?" Is that what you were saying outside? I ask her. "Are you?" She asks again, tiredly. Yeah. She turns and walks off.

    I follow behind her, trying to calm down. This is how they mark you as not attending one of their silly meetings when you can't hear your name called out because you are waiting for a FUCKING NUMBER!! And the bitch refuses to call it out louder than the multitude of voices in conversation in the room, even though they have a big, digital board on the wall that's supposed to display the latest number called, but guess what? The shit doesn't work. Typical inanity, right?

    I walk into a double cubicle, with two desks, two chairs and four visitor chairs on the other side of the desks. There already is a woman and a mother and child on the setup on the right. I take the setup on the left, sitting in front of the West Indian's lady's desk. I place my heavily filled valise on my lap and wait as she regards her computer screen, then turns to me. With a lifeless smile she says, "You did not attend your drug and alcohol screening on the third of June." Second of June, I correct her. She looks at the screen, presses a few buttons, then returns to me with the lifeless smile. "Oh yes, the second of June."

    Super. I zip open my valise and go through the stack of paperwork therein in search of the confirm- ation letter from the examiner at the screening, stating that I was there. "You'll have to provide the court with documentation explaining why you didn't make the screening that is an acceptable excuse," the West Indian says with a crocodile grin. "Have a great day." I freeze, my hand stopping cold in the valise, not finding the paperwork yet. I look up at her, what?

    "That's it Mr. Hobobob. You can go now." I don't have to produce the paperwork here? She shakes her head. "That will all be taken care of at the Fair Hearing." But on the confirmation paperwork for my Fair Hearing it also says that I didn't bring verification for eligibility. I root around for the letter. "That's taken care of at the Fair Hearing, Mr. Hobobob." I stop again, look at my watch. It's been just a little less than five minutes. And that's it? "That's it, Mr. Hobobob, you can go now."

    I zip up my valise and walk from the cubicle and then exit Cubicle Hell. I step out of the building into the hot summer day shaking my head as to just how silly Social Services is. They actually pay a person to meet with me and tell me that the meeting has absolutely no bearing on my Fair Hearing. The sole purpose of the meeting is to cut my benefits if I did not attend it. Makes sense doesn't it? I burn all the way back home on the train. They actually pay someone to sit in a chair and spend five minutes just to play attendance keeper so that they can delete you from aid. Wild.

    I get home and lay across my bed, my entire body wracked with pain from the long walk in the heat. I am really punishing myself with these walks, but I'm feeling the benefits already. I have energy and I can walk and deal with my fellow humans on a daily basis. Stepping out of my front door for any reason is a win/win for me. It really is. Also, I have time to think and think hard, to ruminate. To go over things over and over in my tight little skull to come up with answers to my many predicaments. It's all good.

    There is a pounding sound reverberating against my walls and doors. I look around. It's the pounding beat of a drum in a pop song. Billie Jean, by Micheal Jackson. Loud, really loud. I open my front door and the blasting beat is rocking from Paula's door right across from mine. What the fuck? Did she get a new multi-watt stereo recently? And she's playing Micheal Jackson? Who plays Micheal Jackson any more?

    Thriller comes on next. I crawl into bed and think of a building full of zombies. Fucking Skeksies! I close my eyes.

    HobobobSource URL:
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Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Summertime and the Living Is . . .

    by Jo Robertson

    We’ve just reached the triple digits in northern California and I feel like the Wicked Witch of the West screeching, “I’m melting, I’m melting.”

    Summer’s definitely here to stay in our little corner of the world. In spite of the heat, mosquitoes, and escalating air conditioner bills, summer recalls those wonderful memories of childhood in my home state of Virginia.

    Barefoot explorations. My mother never cared if we ran wild and barefoot all summer long. My standard clothing issue was shorts and halter top and NO SHOES. Our property sloped down the hillside to the banks of the James River and my brother and I spent hours exploring the territory.
    Gives me the shivers now.

    Sleeping in. We had a screened in side porch where we always slept during the hot, humid summers. Our old house had a swamp cooler, but no air conditioning, so the meager breeze that swept off the river was essential!
    Why is sleeping in still so wickedly delicious?

    Fireflies. Not the Nathan Fillion kind – yum – and I’ll again recommend your buying the complete DVD of that amazing Joss Whedon TV series – but the bugs that light up.
    As kids we always caught fireflies during the summer, captured them inside my mom’s canning jars, and stared at them all night as they rested on the floor by my bed. I'm still fascinated by the way their tiny bodies flash this amazing green light.

    Ticks. Yes, we had tons of those little buggers. I distinctly remember one particularly fat one burrowing its body into my right butt cheek. I was about eleven, I think, and horrified at the thought of some crawly creature sucking my blood out like a vampire. That was also the summer I got interested in Bram Stoker. Mom used alcohol and tweezers and finally snipped off the head, leaving the body deep in my tender flesh.
    I don’t remember the rest – I think I passed out.

    Accidents. Why is summer always the time someone breaks a bone, gnashes a wrist or knee, or falls into an open sewer? I mention these three things because the summer I was twelve, my little brother Ken, eleven, managed to do all three on consecutive Saturdays.
    The sewer was the worst. And I swear -- I was responsible only for one of the events -- the slashed wrist.

    Ice Cream. I know, I know. It’s way cheaper to buy ice cream nowadays than to make your own, but there’s something that speaks of home and mom and comfort during warm summer nights with a giant bowl of homemade ice cream for company.

    I’m again offering my super-duper infamous recipe for anyone who missed it previously. It’s easy, quick, and so light you’ll eat the entire canister by yourself. If the other people living in your house don’t beat you to it!

    3 cups sugar

    2 quarts of half and half

    1 can evaporated milk

    2 TB vanilla extract

    1 TB lemon extract

    And finally, making out on a blanket (otherwise known as picnicking). Okay, I’ll keep this PG-13, but summertime reminds me of dates I had with Dr. Big when we picnicked by the river. It was so beautiful and we were so much in love. Nuff said!

    What about you? What's your standard "uniform" for the summer? What childhood memories does summertime bring to you? What kind of memories are you making for you children?
    Are summer sports your thing -- water skiiing, rafting, sunbathing (hey, that's a sport!) Are you a sun worshipper or do you avoid it like the plague?
    Do you enjoy picnic scenes in a romance novel? Do they remind you of a more relaxed time as opposed to our current hectic pace?
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Guest Post: Mini things for mini people...

Josh Turner Mystic Lake Showroom Tickets

    Josh Turner is an American country music singer and actor that began singing early on in his church choir. In 2001, Josh Turner debuted on the Grand Ole Opry with the song "Long Black Train," then in 2003 he released his debut album also entitled Long Black Train. Since then, Josh has released four studio albums and has won awards for Song of the Year and Songwriter of the Year in 2004. Now is your chance to get a great deal on Josh Turner Mystic Lake Showroom tickets and see him perform live on Thursday, August 19th at 7:30 pm. Our seats in the center section currently start at just $90 each. Get yours now before it's too late!Source URL:
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Venice Underground

    Recently my best friend and his lovely wife took time out from their festive lives in New York City to visit me which led to a Sunday afternoon brunch which led to wandering about my neighborhood which led to passing a thrift store advertising $3 DVDs for sale which led to my best friend and I browsing racks and racks of DVDs of movies we'd never heard of (and probably wish we'd never heard of) which led to me becoming obsessed with finding a DVD of a movie I'd never heard of for the specific purpose of reviewing it for my blog and, after much perusal, and after also finding "Before The Devil Knows You're Dead" tucked away amidst all the crap, and after begging my best friend to lend me the necessary $6 (thanks, Jacob! This review wouldn't exist without you! You did the world a service!) since I'd just handed over all my money for coffee and overeasy eggs on top of biscuits and gravy, I had the perfect DVD in my hands.

    "Venice Underground" (2005). This DVD appealed to me over the others because - despite its hilariously gratuitous cover - its cast and premise seemed to suggest it took itself seriously. That is what I wanted.

    The cast is an awesome mix of slumming knowns - Edward Furlong, Jodi Lyn O'Keefe, Mark Boone Junior, Eric Mabius, and the man, the myth, Danny Trejo - and (there is a reason they're) unknowns - Nichole Hiltz, Nicholas Gonzalez, Randall Batinkoff, Carolina Garcia. The premise is painfully, expectedly by the book: the drug trade along the Venice Beach Boardwalk is, like, completely and totally outta control. So the Police Captain (Ed Lauter), who at one point actually declares someone "couldn't keep his hand out of the cookie jar", enlists the "bold" scheme of Sgt. Frank Mills (Batinkoff) who wants to take young pups not even finished with their training in the police academy and have them go undercover. He explains thusly: "Cops think and act like cops. These kids are all instincts and street smarts." After throwing up in his mouth a little, and against his better judgement, the Police Captain acquiesces.

    This A-list squad isn't as motley as you'd expect. On the contrary, they are quite glamorous and a couple of them appear to have wandered over from some canceled Reality TV island. It's kinda like "The O.C." meets "Serpico." Gary (Furlong) and Tyler (O'Keefe) are an item. Samantha (Hiltz) is initially in bed with Sgt. Mills but it turns out this sly little minx is also in bed with Danny (Mabius) and, oh yeah, she's pregnant. Yes. Pregnant.

    Kudos to Samantha for ceasing to drink liquor in the face of her impending pregnancy but, that said, should she really stay on the case? Should she really be busting down doors with a glock? Should she really be going under deep cover as a hooker? I mean, I hate to be that guy but, seriously, she's PREGNANT!!! Is this the message writer/director Eric DelaBarre yearned to send with "Venice Underground"? Pregnant women can be undercover cops, too?

    Regardless of all this activity in the boudoir, though, the Venice Boardwalk drug ring must still be brought down, and so it will, as our intrepid gang wheels and deals its way through a shady music biz exec (Boone Junior) and a riotously unthreatening low level drug dealer named Joby (Bret Roberts) and an ominous dude in a car with no plates (Brian White) and the godfather, sort of, of a southside gang (Trejo) and so on and then, of course, there is the "mysterious" Man With The Golden Gun whose point-of-view we always see as he goes around eliminating the competition.

    The acting is uniformly wooden (Furlong appears to have gone on an overnight drunk just prior to filming) and the filmmaking is predictably terrible as DelaBarre employs endless title cards ("Northside Dealer's House. 2:40 PM.") and insipid little flashbacks since I assume that he assumes no one was really paying any attention and awful slow-mo - lots of awful slow-mo - and in one moment of surreal absurdity, during the climactic gunfight and (half the money in our budget when towards this) explosion - the scene switches from late afternoon to night in 2 seconds. And don't even ask how the owner of the "mysterious" Golden Gun is revealed. That's the best you've got? Dude, no one's asking for a "Sixth Sense"-like twist but couldn't you have given it a little more thought?

    What did I honestly expect from a $3 DVD of a movie called "Venice Underground"? Uh....this, I guess. What it does is re-inforce the fact that there is this whole other side to the movie business, all these little low budget movies on the fringe that eventually wind up on $3 DVD racks. Its producer was Jeff Most who, in looking at his IMBD credits, produced "The Crow" and "The Specialist" way back in the day, and has since produced the seemingly endless gurgle of "The Crow" follow-ups and a bunch of other movies like "Venice Underground". He must have money to toss at people like Furlong and O'Keefe and Trejo so he must be well off. Probably has a nice house in the cheaper section of the Hills. He's making a living. Respect.

    But as someone who genuinely believes the cinema can change lives and re-align the stars re-realizing these facts about the industry just depresses me. Thank God I have "Before The Devil Knows You're Dead" to cheer me back up.Source URL:
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Guest Post: Magical Bubble Photos

Monday, June 28, 2010

Kissing Frogs

    by Susan Sey

    It’s 1994. I’m twenty-one years old, student teaching 9th grade English. In the four months I’ve been on the job, Tonya Harding has put out a hit on Nancy Kerrigan’s knee & Kurt Cobain’s committed suicide. It’s a pretty accurate barometer of how my pursuit of a teaching certificate is going, actually. But since my dad has recently informed me I can’t be a camp counselor forever, I feel compelled to augment my imminent English degree with an actual skill set. Hence the teaching certificate.

    My cooperating teacher is napping behind a barricade of books on his desk. I am three inches shorter & twenty pounds lighter than my smallest student, a fact that has not gone unnoticed. Kids are actually singing & dancing in the aisles. I have completely lost control of my class, which is bad enough. But then something in my head snaps—what the hell am I doing spending my senior year of college in high school??—and I lose control of myself, too.

    At the top of my surprisingly formidable camp counselor lungs, I bellow, “STOP!”

    There is an instant of shocked silence. I find this immensely gratifying & am about to perform a hostile take over of my own class when somebody gets there first. Two beats into my hard-won silence, a girl yells, “Hammer time! Doot, doot, doot-doot…”

    (It’s a song, for those of you too young to get the joke. MC Hammer? See, there were these crazy pants, too, & this little dance he did, and...okay, never mind. You'll have to trust me on this. It was a big thing.)

    Anyway, the class about injures itself laughing—admittedly, her comic timing is exquisite—and there goes my brief flirtation with efficacy.

    Okay. So. Not a teacher. Sorry, Dad.

    And why am I telling you this story?

    Because I got invited to my 20 high school reunion this week.

    Because in my high school year book, I predicted that by now I'd be living on my own private island with an iguana named Issaac writing best-selling novels. (I have a husband, two kids & a house in the suburbs, in case you were wondering how that worked out for me.)

    Because while my dad didn't specifically include writing romance novels in the "camp counseling is not a career" talk, I understood it came under the same heading.

    Because after thirteen years of trying other things, I sat down & started writing anyway.

    Because after five years of writing, I sold a book.

    Because after two years of waiting, that book--Money, Honey--is finally going to hit the shelves.

    In exactly one week.

    Ladies (and gentlemen, I know you're out there), today I am here to testify. If yesterday's post didn't convince you (and congrats again, Suz), maybe today's will tip the balance.

    Dreams aren't impossible. Only improbable. And this is coming from a woman whose toddlers used to blurt out, "Rejection letters!" every time they saw a mailbox.

    Sometimes you have to kiss a lot of frogs, people. But you kiss the right one?

    Worth it. Totally worth it.

    So what about you? Have you ever dreamed the impossible dream? Longed for something so outlandish you didn't really allow yourself to hope for it? (I include Hugh Jackman, Christian Bale, & a tremendous singing voice on my list, so don't be shy.) Did you ever pursue it? Even a little? How did that work out for you?Source URL:
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