Saturday, 14 February 2009


"Don't threaten me with love, Baby. Let's just go walking in the rain." - Billie Holiday

Saturday…nothing happening here…if you believe in Valentine’s Day – enjoy it however you chose with whomever you chose. If you think it’s a load of commercial clap trap designed to force people into making declarations of love – well, yes it is but look at it this way – the more money that gets pumped into the respective world economies thing right now is a good thing. We need cash to flow freely. Yes – commercialization could save our arses. What’s not to love about that? Though may I suggest you watch out for short, chunky, naked guys with arrows …you don’t want to go there. That’s not good for anyone and there are therapists for that.

"Love has the power of making you believe what you would normally treat with the deepest suspicion." - Mirabeau

Okay - tomorrow - Sunday - comments will go back on the blog for a day and you can say whatever you want - about anything you like - go for it. Got something you are burning to say? Say it. And - there will be a prize for best comment.

My Secret Valentine by Ashley Ladd is out now at Total-e-Bound. Click on the cover to buy.

Wes Donovan was never lucky, but today it seemed his luck had changed.
Blake Kirchner, the object of his fantasies, stepped onto the treadmill two rows in front of Wes, just enough to the right to award a perfect view of Blake’s toned, beautiful body and let Wes do the secret admiration thing.
The way Blake’s tight-sculpted gluts flexed and strained against his skin-tight shorts made Wes’ mouth water. Blake’s broad, well-muscled shoulders made Wes long to be swept into Blake’s arms.
Wes vowed anew to work out until he was so buff Blake’s mouth would water for him, too.
Light refracted off Blake’s shiny blue-black fall of hair, and Wes made out blurry images of the exerciser behind Blake in its silky fall. His breath hitched in his throat and his palms became clammier.
Again he wiped his hands on his towel then mopped away perspiration dotting his brow. The heart-rate monitor on his machine jumped from ninety-six to one-forty-five although he needed no external acknowledgment that he couldn’t breathe.
He’d give anything if Blake returned his affections, but the man had never been more than cordial if he saw Wes at all, so he was still very much a secret admirer.
Exhausted, he knew he’d pushed himself to his limits, but he was loath to leave as long as Blake remained. Maybe, just maybe, Blake would turn, catch his gaze and think him the hottest guy in the world.
He caught himself staring hard at Blake and wondered what he could do to win his affections when Blake suddenly stopped, turned and pinned him with a steady look.
Wes’ heart stopped, and he gulped. Guilty heat flooded his cheeks and dust coated his throat. The earth quaked beneath him as his feet were dragged out from under him, and he stumbled off the equipment.
The woman beside him caught him, but he cringed to the soundtrack of loud snickers, snorts, and even a few scathingly muttered, “Geeks.”
Raging with humiliation, he mumbled a raspy, “Thanks,” as he grabbed his towel, ducked his head and bolted.
Damn! So he wasn’t such a ‘secret’ admirer after all.
“Some piece of work you are, dude.” He was so mortified he didn’t think he could ever show his face in the gym again. Worse, he wondered how big a dork Blake must think him.
When he reached his car, he flung his soaked towel on the passenger seat and lifted his eyes to the heavens. “Why?”
The sun floated peacefully on the horizon as if everything was cool with the world.
“Why of all men I could have a thing for, why him?”
Wes would have a better chance of winning the next United States presidential election than getting Blake to look twice at him.
Still, he yearned only for Blake. Worse, he dreaded going to his baseball team’s Valentine Party stag—again.
There had to be something, somehow, he could do to trick fate and get his man.
Go Ahead : Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?