Happy Saturday! How's it going where you are? We've had shitty weather, but that's the norm lol.
Bruises and Birthdays
Get the battering ram! Defend the keep! Man the gates! Protect what is yours!
Seriously, why on earth do authors make out that losing your virginity is like defending a castle? The dick goes in, halts at the imaginary door of the castle (the hymen), and then what? It knocks on the door, asking for entry?
Guys and girls, I know we've covered the basics of virginity before, but how many authors need to go back and take Sex-Ed 101 over? There is no 'barrier' halfway in. I would put up pictures to prove it, but the Bossman says I can't.
Something to do with putting you off your dinner.
Speaking of dinner, I know this isn't book-related, but it's something that's bothered me recently.
Why do TV commercials insist on showing products for women when its dinner time? In an ideal world, we shouldn't have the TV on when we're eating, I know, but come on, roll with the times. Anyhoo, what's up with the 'monthly' products and ads for thrush?
I know where to buy my products, I don't need to see them plastered on the TV when I'm eating dinner.
.
Mac was being a big baby. Apparently, he didn't like the idea of me and the Bossman getting it on if he couldn't do the same with the tart next door.
Bossman found it hilarious that Mac whined the way he did, but I didn't. I wanted a nice relaxing bath. Could I get one? No. I had the nice smelling Jasmine oils, soft playing music, and several candles going. But Mac was on the other side of the door on the verge of howling.
"He just wants so quality time with his momma, sweetie. You're at work all day and he misses you," mom said over the phone. It had just gone eight, so as usual, mom calls to tell me about her day.
My brother got caught with the Pastor's daughter. Dad hit a signpost at the hospital and mom tried to make a red velvet cake that didn't go down too well.
"He doesn't miss me, mom, he just wants to get over the fence to the hussy next door. Her owners are breeding her this year. Apparently, she's had a run of phantom pregnancies, so they're hoping having a real one will calm her down," I replied.
"Well, hopefully she'll be sorted out soon and Mac will go back to being his normal puppy self," mom laughed.
"I wish."
.
"Princess, are you listening to us?"
"No, not really. I don't really want to sit here and hear drivel about cars and what does what in an engine," I muttered, looking at the screen. My page views had soared since my last blog post, and the comments have been hilarious.
One author, who'd signed in as anonymous, tried to defend the sex against the door issue I brought up. They said it was sexy and it was what readers wanted to see in books. I get that, I do, but come on! If every book had the exact content that readers wanted to see, then every book would become generic.
Then what would people read?
"Princess, we need your input on this. We've moved on from cars onto cooking. Jessica's Mom wants to try her hand at putting up some good meals to cater for families on smaller budgets and students with no budgets," he said.
"Mom struggled with raising the four of us when Daddy upped and left us. Mom wanted to share some of her ideas with us."
Bless her. Jessica was a good girl, slightly high on the nail polish fumes, still, but she was good.
"How about you get her to come in sometime next week and share some of her ideas. We certainly have space in the magazine and online, but it can't be a quick idea. If she comes on board it will be long term, so she'll need to have content to fill the space," I muttered.
Bossman looked at me like I'd grown an extra head.
"What?"
"You actually sound like a grown-up. I don't like it. I need to think of something to counteract your 'adult' moment. Paintballing this afternoon?" he asked, and I didn't even fight my eyes lighting up.
"You're on."
.
"Ow . . . don't touch me. I'll find a way to kick your ass," I groaned while pulling myself up the steps of my house.
"I'll rub your ass better after we've had a bath."
"Will you, fuck! You're not coming near my ass. I'm going to have a nice hot bath and then going to bed to read." I whimpered.
Paintballing is so much fun, but Christ, it can hit you where it hurts. In my case, Bossman hit me right on the left ass cheek. I got him back by shooting his thigh, but he was still walking normally. Kind of.
"Princess, I need a bath too, and I need to cuddle you. No sex involved—as much as I'd like to get frisky with you—and nothing to do with your ass either. I need rest, you've tired me out."
For the last two weeks, this is what we'd been doing. Nigh on killing each other in one way, shape, or form.
Edward had gotten it in his head that he wanted to promote local businesses in the area. The magazine had reached out quite far now, and the website was being read from all over. I could see his point. The more people we got into this area meant more money being spent here. Great for us and the community.
That didn't mean that he had to drag me along to all these things, though. Right? Wrong.
So far we'd been to the new dry ski slope center, a zip line course, and a new eatery which boasted the hottest slash spiciest flame-grilled meat you could have. I walked out of that place promising to give him a blow job when he was asleep so he could feel what it was like to have his dick on fire, just like my mouth.
Now the pair of us could barely get in the front door properly thanks to our bruised and battered bodies.
I had to admit that the slope and zip line days were fun, but then our days took on even more intense pursuits and I was black and blue. If it wasn't for all the images we posted to our Instagram pages, people would think Bossman beat me.
"Bath and cuddles only. I swear if you move and I feel your hard dick against me . . . well, you won't like me very much."
"Aww, I could never not like you, Princess. You've made me come alive since I fell on you that day," he laughed, then winced.
"Go run the bath while I make us a warm drink."
.
I'm hiding.
Don't laugh, but I'm being serious. I'm in the attic of my house, and I even have supplies.
Good God, I'm twenty-one today. I can finally drink—legally—and am now classed as a proper adult. The problem is, I don't want to be an adult.
So here I am, in the attic, under my covers with my tablet in hand. I've ignored all calls, texts, and messages from the moment I woke up—and I intend to keep doing that until I wake up tomorrow morning.
I don't not like my birthday, in fact, I quite enjoy them, but I knew everyone was going to go overboard with it.
I made my parents promise not to throw me a big party as I didn't want that much fuss, but I don't think they really listened to me. Liam just laughed when I tried to ignore today. Timothy, my Godfather, wanted to make an appointment with me about signing over my trust fund.
I don't want that damn money. Yeah, it is a nice amount, but what do I need it for? I was comfortable enough as it is, and the house is already owned and paid for. I don't want a car, and I have no interest in vacations.
Edward tried arranging an evening out with a meal, which didn't sound too bad until he mentioned going to a club. I don't like clubs. All those sweaty, testosterone-filled people grinding about on a small dance floor does nothing for me.
All I wanted for my birthday was quiet time with just me and my books. I'd actually found a couple of books that I was enjoying. Well-edited, good covers, and not a cliché in sight. That was a rare find. The male lead wasn't loaded, he wasn't brooding, and he wasn't an asshole, either. Good times!
"Bella, how many times do I have to tell you that you can hide all you want, but I will find you," Timothy's voice traveled through the room over to where my hiding space was.
"Aw fuck, how did you find me this time?" I grouched as he made his way over to me.
"Well, when you hit double digits, you hid in here. Also, when you tried to run from the 'sex talk slash, you're a woman now' speech your dad tried to give you." He laughed and sat down next to me.
"I don't care if Dad is a doctor or not, no one should have the sex talk with diagrams and science models with their kids. That's just gross and unethical," I bitched.
"Bella, you're twenty-one. You might not like it, but it's happened. Face it head-on and deal with it."
"I don't wanna. I want to be a kid for the rest of my life." I laughed. Yeah, I knew that being a kid wouldn't work.
"Tell me about Edward. Your Dad isn't too happy that he seems to be disrespecting you—"
"First of all, why the abrupt conversation change? Also, Dad has no idea what Edward is and isn't doing. It's not like he can tell me what to do, I'm an adult, for Christ sake. Ouch—"
"And you just hit the nail on the head, sweet girl. You're an adult."
"You're such a shit! You did that on purpose!" I laughed.
"I did, now stop your moping and get downstairs. You might not like having a small get-together, but it's going to happen. Just because you don't want to celebrate your birth, doesn't mean everyone else wants to forget. Also, Edward looks really uncomfortable sat down there with your dad."
"You left him down there on his own?!"
If anyone wanted to know, I always think of the sister's house in Charmed when I picture Bella's home.