Tag Archives: love

Alethea Kontis: Meant To Be

Alethea Kontis, , , ,

I’ve always said: Some things are meant to be, and some things are meant to be great stories.

The question most recently posed to the lagoon was this: When did you decide to write romance?

A great question, but one I wasn’t sure how to answer. Because my answer is: always.

My first true love was poetry. As a child, I loved Ogden Nash and Gelett Burgess and Lewis Carroll. My Greek grandmother sang songs to us, recited nursery rhymes, and even wrote a few poems herself. My French grandmother had a few books in her meager library, including Favorite Poems, Old and New and The Collected Poems of Rudyard Kipling. And Shakespeare! Who could forget Shakespeare?

I loved the words and the rhymes. I loved the verbal trickery and subversive turns of phrase. I loved that so much could be conveyed with so little. And I loved that poets LOVED, people, places and things, unabashedly and beautifully, for all the world to see. Poe pined for Annabelle Lee. The Highwayman loved Bess, the landlord’s daughter. Romeo loved Juliet.

I wrote scads of poetry. Reams. Boatloads. To everyone and everything, real and imaginary. I was a True Romantic. I was one hundred percent positive that, one day, the universe would introduce me to my own soul’s mate.

Sure, I had boyfriends, but I did not seek out Great Love. One does not seek Great Love. Great Love finds you. I had my heart broken again…and again…and again…and again…and again…and then I looked in the mirror and realized I wasn’t a little girl anymore, and I wondered what happened.

I was alone.

But not truly alone.

My Great Loves are my friends. My tribe. My teddy bear. All the people that the universe paired me with in the strangest of circumstances. All the adventures I take. All these people and places and things I get to keep in my heart forever.

That soulmate, that invisible half that was supposed to make me whole…that’s who I write about in every story. Every book. Every poem.

Because some of us were meant to be…and some of us were meant to tell great stories!

Twas the smallest of kisses…

Carlene Love, , , , , , , ,

Love is out there everyday of the year, in its many different forms and shades of dark and light. With it being February, a notoriously romantic month, I have searched my private library, and found something old, favorited, and exemplary to share with you, fishy friends. It comes to you from the singular Gaston Leroux and a certain masked man named Erik who has never received kindness except from one young woman who has allowed him to kiss her forehead, and not run away. Hush now while I extinguish all lights and blow out all candles, save one, for you to read by. Of course, you may know him simply as, The Phantom…

phantom

****

And Erik fell into a chair, choking for breath:

“Ah, I am not going to die yet… presently I shall… but let me cry! … Listen, daroga… listen to this. While I was at her feet… I heard her say, ‘Poor, unhappy Erik!’ … And she took my hand! … I had become no more, you know, than a poor dog ready to die for her. I mean it, daroga! I held in my hand a ring, a plain gold ring which I had given her… which she had lost… and which I had found again… a wedding ring, you know. I slipped it into her little hand and said, ‘There! Take it! Take it for you… and him! It shall be my wedding present–a present from your poor, unhappy Erik. … I know you love the boy… don’t cry anymore! … She asked me, in a very soft voice, what I meant. Then I made her understand that, where she was concerned, I was only a poor dog, ready to die for her… but that she could marry the young man when she pleased, because she had cried with me and mingled her tears with mine!…”

Erik’s emotion was so great that he had to tell the Persian not to look at him, for he was choking and must take off his mask. The daroga went to the window and opened it. His heart was full of pity, but he took care to keep his eyes fixed on the trees in the Tuileries gardens, lest he should see the monster’s face.

“I went and released the young man,” Erik continued, “and told him to come with me to Christine. They kissed before me in the Louis-Philippe room. … Christine had my ring. … I made Christine swear to come back, one night, when I was dead, crossing the lake from the Rue-Scribe side, and bury me in the greatest secrecy with the gold ring, which she was to wear until that moment. … I told her where she would find my body and what to do with it. Then Christine kissed me, for the first time, herself, here, on the forehead–don’t look, daroga!–and they went off together. Christine had stopped crying. … I alone cried. Daroga, daroga, if Christine keeps her promise, she will come back soon!…”

ForeheadKiss

The Persian asked him no questions. He was quite reassured as to the fate of Raoul Chagny and Christine Daae; no one could have doubted the word of the weeping Erik that night.

The monster resumed his mask and collected his strength to leave the daroga. He told him that, when he felt his end to be very near at hand, he would send him, in gratitude for the kindness which the Persian had shown him, that which he held dearest in the world: all Christine Daae’s papers, which she had written for Raoul’s benefit and left with Erik, together with a few objects belonging to her, such as a pair of gloves, a shoe-buckle and two pocket-handkerchiefs…………..

****

I am always struck by how little it took to fulfill the giant hole that was Erik’s heart. The single kiss on the forehead proves that kindness to others is one of the biggest gifts we as human beings can offer in this world. I hope you receive, in this lifetime, if not a thousand cherished kisses, but at least one. At least one kiss that fills your heart as it did for this man, this monster, this hero.

Fishy kisses to you all,

Carlene Mermaid

Excerpt taken from The Phantom of the Opera, by French mystery writer, Gaston Leroux, 1911, from the English translation by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos.

 

Why We Write Romance

Alethea Kontis, Dana Rodgers, Denny S. Bryce, Diana Belchase, Kerri Carpenter, Kimberly MacCarron, Masha Levinson, mermaids, Pintip Dunn, Susan Jeffery, , , ,

Valentines-day-valentines-day-22236757-2560-1600-300x187Happy Valentine’s Day from the Waterworld Mermaids!!!

We love Valentine’s Day so much that we are celebrating all week long. Ever curious about why the Mermaids write romance novels? Today we decided to share our answers to the question: What made you start writing romance?

Come back tomorrow when we turn the tables on industry professionals with their very own question. Our celebration will wrap on Thursday with a gift card giveaway. Leave a comment today and tomorrow for extra chances to be entered in the giveaway on Thursday.

Enjoy and smoochies!

What made you start writing romance?

Alethea

This should come as no surprise to anyone: Fairy Tales are the reason I started writing romance. Fairy tales are full of fantasy, adventure, magic, mystery, blood, and death…but the tales I always found most interesting were the ones that involved true love. This love might end tragically (The Little Mermaid) or wonderfully (Rapunzel) or coincidentally (Briar Rose) or with a heaping spoonful of vengeance (Snow White/The Goose Girl), but the meeting of two soul mates in these unlikely settings gave me hope that I was not destined to be alone in this lonely world.

Carlene

So the story goes that it was 2008 and I was knee deep into my brand new fascination with Sherrilyn Kenyon and the romance genre. I think it was around her thirteenth or fourteenth Dark Hunter book I’d read when I realized no matter how horrifying or dark the stories became, the couples always clawed their way back out to a happy ending. The stories were so compelling that it honestly took me that many reads to finally figure out that they would all end on a happy note. It also struck a deep chord with me that many of her characters needed redemption and how their path to that came by way of new-found responsibilities toward the person they now loved. I thought about several real-life people I knew and cared about, people with good hearts but who had missed out on that perfect happy ending. I figured out that I could give them that through my stories. I love reading and writing romance! Wishing you all the best on this Valentine’s Day! Fishy Kisses, Carlene Mermaid

Dana

Once upon a time, I was on a preschool board and I became friends with another board member, Anita Clenney. Anita is one of the nicest people on the planet and we kept in contact for years after our preschool days were over. One day we were talking and she said something along the lines of, “Oh I have so much to do. I really need to get back to my manuscript.” Intrigued, I asked loads of questions about her manuscript and discovered that Anita was an up and coming romance writer. As an avid reader with an eye for detail, I was thrilled when she asked me to be a beta reader. What she got back was way more than what I think she was expecting – actually closer to line edits than your typical overall impressions.

I have been working with Anita ever since. I can’t express how excited and proud I was when Anita signed a three book contract later that year. And I couldn’t have been more thrilled for my friend when her first book made the USA Today and New York Times bestseller’s lists.

Being a good friend, it didn’t take long until Anita suggested I put some of my great ideas into a manuscript of my very own. It took several months of her prodding, but now I’m so happy she did. I love the outlet writing gives me and I now understand why I’ve had this constantly running loop of ideas and images floating through my brain all of these years… Writing was what I was meant to do.

Denny

My journey to writing romance started because of a television show. Yep. I fell in love with an old show named Buffy the Vampire Slayer (and no, not Buffy), but the character Spike—but not because of what he was on screen as much as what was missing from Spike’s tortured existence—romance. At the time, I read horror, mostly, and lots of paranormal, but not necessarily romance, except maybe gothic romance and tragic love stories (always liked to sob with my heroines:). But then I discovered fan fiction (which since 50 Shades of Grey, I no longer need to explain:). Fanfiction writers in the Buffy fandom wore obsessive romantics. I read thousands of pages of fan fiction, and wrote 500,000 words of fan fiction myself (and no it wasn’t all one book:). And through fan fiction, I met a writer named Alicia Rasley (I won’t share her Live Journal name here though:), and she introduced me to RWA, and the idea of writing original romantic fiction. That was quite a few years ago, and I had SO much to learn (which I’m still learning), but that’s who and what started my journey in romance. Buffy, Spike, and Alicia Rasley (http://www.aliciarasley.com/).

Diana

I write what I love, and I also write the books I cannot find and would like to see on shelves. The inspiration of strong women who find more than love — they find love with the right guy — proves such men are out there. When they find their happily ever after, it makes me happy. I guess I write because I’d like to spread the happiness around.

Kerri

The summer before my senior year of college, my mom handed me Nora Roberts’ Sea Swept to read. A couple pages in, I was hooked. That summer I read all about the Quinn’s, the Calhoun sisters and the MacGregor’s, and I haven’t stopped reading romance since. I’d always been a writer but I guess I had never found my niche. What really struck me about romance novels was that everyone got a happy ending. For a twenty-one year old about to enter the very scary and unsure “real world,” nothing sounded better than escaping to a place where dreams come true.

Kim

I write young adult romances because I want girls to read about boys who treat them with respect.  I want them to EXPECT that.  To have those high expectations of boys who will grow into men of good character.  To hold out for love.

It’s not that I ever expected my relationships in high school to pan out into a golden anniversary, but those innocent romances helped me discover what I expected from an adult relationship.  And really, when you come to think of it, they’re the same.  I think the only difference is that we become more jaded and insecure as adults, so teen romances are probably the most pure and real ones out there.  When everything is fresh and new and even heartbreakingly real.  I write teen romances because I still remember those feelings quite vividly.  It’s the promise of something special…something magical…something unforgettable.

Pintip

I cannot imagine writing a young adult novel without including some element of romance. I believe first love is integral to the teenage experience. An essential part of understanding who we are is discovering who we can be as a result of another person — a person who brings out the best in us, a person who inspires us to be the best version of ourselves. That, to me, is the definition of true love.

Susan

I’ve loved reading romance since my early teens, when my family made its annual trek to Georgia and visited family. My grandmother lived with two sisters and me-oh-my, they had half a garage PACKED with grocery bags full of Harlequin books from their shared subscription. Unlimited access to these tiny miracles not only kept me quiet, it gave me my early training. Since I never really stopped reading them, I’ve also never stopped wanting to tell my own stories.

 

Your turn. Tell us in the comments why you *read* romance novels?

Romanceable Me

Carlene Love Flores, , , , ,

Mermaid CarleneYellow loveHello Fishy Friends!

Today you’ve caught me in one of those hopelessly romantic moods. My 20th wedding anniversary just passed and now Valentine’s Day is right around the corner. I’ve got heart shaped boxes of candy stashed around the house to surprise my boys with on the big day. Cold Mountain is loaded on the DVR for my daily viewing pleasure. I’m reading the most romance I’ve ever read at once with contest entries to judge, fabulous friends with new releases out and Sherrilyn Kenyon’s latest to devour. I’m telling you, if someone stuck a pin in me right now, I’d probably ooze tiny little heart-shaped bits of confetti!

In all seriousness, I love being surrounded by romance. The community is a wonderful blend of people with big hearts and even bigger imaginations. We’re totally down with love at first sight, lust at first sight, all kinds of crazy mating rituals, sweet fantasies and wild ones alike. We celebrate history, suspense, zombies and goody two-shoes. And yes, we LOVE our princesses and our mermaids.

We also celebrate each other as writers and readers of the genre. And, we take it a step further and come together to recognize the people in our real lives who support us. By chance, I happened to be included in a new anthology that is out this month called Scribbling Women and the Real-Life Romance Heroes Who Love Them. Twenty-eight romance authors (one for each day in February) including Hope Tarr, Lisa Renee Jones, Elisabeth Staab and Leanna Renee Hieber (And me!), shared personal essays about their real love lives and all net proceeds are being donated to the organization Win (Women in Need) which assists homeless women and their children. I knew I wanted to be a part of it because my hubby goes way beyond in his love and support of me and always has. The man has read all four Twilight books at my request AND attended about 5,000 Casey James concerts with me last year alone. All because it has to do with the writing I love so dearly.

I don’t think it’s possible for me to feel any more romantic than I already do. But let’s see if we can squeeze at my heart strings just a little more. I’d love to hear about your romantic notions. Whether you’re in love with a real hero or a fictional one at the moment. Did someone do something extra sweet for you lately? How many heart shaped boxes of chocolate have you already bought and consumed? For the record, my number on that last one falls somewhere between 2 and 4.

 

Fishy Kisses!

Carlene Mermaid

And Happy Almost Valentine’s Day xoxoxoxo

 

 

Crazy, Stupid, Love.

Kerri Carpenter, , , , , , ,

Recently, I spent a night with some of my favorite things: wine, pizza and a movie. I watched the 2011 film, Crazy, Stupid, Love., starring Steve Carell, Ryan Gosling, Julianne Moore and Emma Stone.  crazystupidlove

It may have been the wine, but I really, really enjoyed this movie. There was a certain “seize the day,” but in the end, be yourself vibe that I can only describe as awesomesauce.

Of course, being the writer I am, I immediately started thinking about the movie and making it all about myself. So without further ado, here’s what I got: Continue reading →

Happy Valentine’s Week – Day Four

mermaids, , , , , ,

Happy Valentine’s Week from the Waterworld Mermaids!!!

Here in our lovely mermaid lagoon, we are all abuzz with the holiday of love. And because we’re in such a happy mood, we wanted to share some stories and memories from mermaid-pasts. Best of all, we’re celebrating all week long! We hope you enjoy!

Love can be messy.  It’s not always presented to us neatly, wrapped all pretty with a cute little bow on top. But there are those people, and those precious moments, that remind us it’s all worth it….

 

Sunday Afternoon
Susan Andrews

She’d been cutting his hair for years.  Well, not all the years – there was the time she’d put a ten dollar bill in his hand and, at his look of surprise, said, “It’s a gift.  You’re going out.”  Then deflated his pleasure when she added, “For a haircut.”  But that was long ago.  After so many years together, things were different.  No more surprises in this marriage.

Now she cut it again.  Every few weeks, she would notice the sparse hair on the top of his head resembled dandelion fluff.  He was an easy man to please, and shorter was better.  They’d gotten used to the occasional fumbles, the one spot that got away every time and spoiled the symmetry.  His hair was too fine for a perfect haircut, and his simple gratitude for any style that didn’t include a comb-over was sufficient.

They worked well together.  She got out the sheet and kicked aside the bathroom rugs.  He retrieved a kitchen chair and shed his flannel shirt.  They understood the need for cooperation.  Things worked better that way.

The clipper (bought for their son’s first haircut long ago) ran up the back of his head, the hairs making a pleasant brrrrrr asthey succumbed to the blade’s vibration.  The fluff fell against her hand, tickling at her fingers.  It cascaded down across his shoulders, a mix of dark and gray hairs.  Gone.  The curls she’d played with, the widow’s peak.  What was left?

“Your hair still grows fast. It’s long enough in the back to curl a little.”  Brrrrrrr.

“There’s not enough to let it be long.  Shorter is better.”

“Hmmm.  Tip your head?”  She pressed a hand against his temple and felt its warmth under her fingertips.  His head angled to one side as he waited for her to carve the outline around his ear.  Don’t knick the ear.  She coached herself through the steps.  Back. Change. Front.

Especially since she loved that ear.  The pretty shell, so neatly formed, delicate in contrast to the musculature of the man.  Not as pretty now, with the lobe gone fleshy.  Still…

She bent, her hands braced against his shoulder, and kissed the ear.  He flinched under the sheeting, surprised.  She’d broken the pattern.  Awkward, having to crouch, but her lips found the tip and pressed against it again.

She stood again, met his eyes in the mirror.  “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”  He couldn’t move, his body shrouded in a twin-size sheet.  She could, though, and bent to kiss his lips.  A good match.  All these years, and she was surprised that she still believed in the us they’d become.  “She chose wisely,” she joked against his lips.

She felt his mouth curve under hers.  “He got lucky.”

She laughed and set the clipper down, picked up the brush to flick the stray bits from his neck and face.  “We could both get lucky if you help me clean this up.”

He pushed against the twin sheet as she unwound it, scrubbed his hands against his face and down his neck.  Then he stood to wrap her in his arms.  Warm, firm, strong.  His hands found the muscles in her back that were too-often tight and soothed them.

“Thanks.”  His lips still had the power to send a spiral down into her tummy.  He lifted his head.  “Pizza for dinner?”

“You?”

“Me.”  His hand trailed down her side and tickled under the hem of her shirt.  A promise.  “I’ll get the broom.”

She knew she would find the one spot on his head that had escaped her.  At some point in the evening, she would run her hand across the crown of his head and find the baby-fine patch that had hidden.  Unruly.  Disobedient.  Sooner or later, she would have to deal with it.

Later on, she found it.  “There it is.”  Their feet were tangled in the blankets, their hands still exploring.

“Oh.”  His eyes were lazy now, but amused.  “You found the spot?”

“It got away from me.”  She nudged the puff of hair.  “I’ll have to get the scissors out.”

He slipped his hands under her and kissed her again.  “Do it later.”

 

We hoped you enjoyed our stories this week. We loved sharing them with you! Come back tomorrow for a fantastic giveaway!

 

 

Happy Valentine’s Week – Day Three

mermaids, , , , , , ,

Happy Valentine’s Week from the Waterworld Mermaids!!!

Here in our lovely mermaid lagoon, we are all abuzz with the holiday of love. And because we’re in such a happy mood, we wanted to share some stories and memories from mermaid-pasts. Best of all, we’re celebrating all week long! We hope you enjoy!

Ever notice how love can inspire music and music often has a hand in love? Whether the feelings are between significant others or family members, today’s stories mix these two beautiful things – love and music….

 

Songs in the Key of Love
Denny S. Bryce

He had a voice like smooth raw silk—deep and rich and soft and strong. When he sang, with his lips next to my ear, his breath was warm and cool, and always made me smile.

He loved to sing. He would burst into song anywhere, any time. When we sat in the car at the gas pump, or as we shopped for groceries, or walked across the football field after he’d coached a game.

It took a few months, but eventually, I joined in and sang the words I knew to whatever song he was singing. But my voice never sounded as good as his. So I mostly sat back and let him sing to me. He liked it best that way.

He wasn’t showing off. No, but sometimes talking didn’t do what he wanted it to do. His words weren’t as good as the lyrics on the radio. It was easier to say what he wanted to say with a song.

So he’d serenade me.

After a while, I stopped noticing when he sang, or that he wasn’t singing as much anymore.

Then one night we were in the car driving back from, or driving off to, somewhere, and a Stevie Wonder song came on the radio. It was from a 1976 album, Songs in the Key of Life, one of my favorites from back in the day.

He pulled over to the side of the road, and started singing…

“As”.

If you’re not familiar, here are some of the lyrics…

You know what I say is true
That I’ll be loving you always

(Until the rainbow burns the stars out in the sky)
Always
(Until the ocean covers every mountain high)
Always
(Until the dolphin flies and parrots live at sea)
Always
(Until we dream of life and life becomes a dream)

Did you know that true love asks for nothing
No no her acceptance is the way we pay
Did you know that life has given love a guarantee
To last through forever and another day

Well, let’s just say, I started listening again…and heard every word when he sang.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

 

Song from the Heart
Masha Levinson

This thing I hold in my arms is more like a loaf of bread than a baby.  And not one of those pretty loaves either.  He’s all beat up looking.  Black and blue.  As if he’d been in a fight and is now sleeping off a horrid hangover.  Except unlike most drunks, this one isn’t staying quiet.  He’s screaming as if belting out a tune for the cheap seats at Lincoln Center.  And it’s 2:30 in the morning.  And I’m tired.  And cranky.  And I want to go to sleep.  And he won’t cooperate.  The spindles from the creaky rocking chair are digging into my back.  My arm, the one his lumpy head is resting on, has long ago fallen asleep. Why won’t this kid sleep?

It’s half an hour later when his eyelids begin to flutter up and down.  Small veins weave around his translucent skin.  His fragility amazes me.  Twenty minutes later, he’s finally asleep.  I exhale.  As if holding the rarest of gems, I will my body off the chair, cringing when the hinges squeal.  I hold my breath.  He doesn’t stir.  Step by step, I make it to the crib.  The side is up.  I can’t reach in there.  I look around the semi-lit room and see the stepstool.  I hold him in my arms and with one foot drag it toward his crib.  His eyes flutter open.  My breath hitches.  He closes them.  I place the stool in front of the bed and gingerly climb on it.  The crib is still too high for me.

Each time, before I lower him into the crib, no matter how tired, I lean over and kiss his satiny forehead.  Tonight is no different.  He sighs.  I smile.  I lean over and place him, as carefully as if he was the most fragile loaf of bread, onto the sheets.  I hold my breath and wait.  Sometimes he wakes and sometimes he doesn’t.  He continues sleeping. I exhale and creep out of the room.  I crawl into my bed.  My body begins to drift off as the last thought flutters through my mind.  I wonder if he’ll ever know what I did for him.

Fourteen years later I’m sitting in front of the school, waiting to pick him up from a homecoming dance.  It’s Saturday night.  Request night on the love station.  I’m tapping my finger on the steering wheel.  The music filters off and then I hear it.  “Our last dedication is to Masha from her brother and for everything she did for him.”

I stop tapping.  And breathing.  The intro to the song begins to fill the car.  A moment later the words come across my old radio loud and clear.  I am no longer left to wonder.

The song he chose is Hero.

 

We hoped you enjoyed our stories today. Come back tomorrow for more sweet stories that are sure to make you feel all gooey (in a good way)!

 

 

Happy Valentine’s Week – Day Two

Kimberly MacCarron, mermaids, , , , , , , , , , , ,

Happy Valentine’s Week from the Waterworld Mermaids!!!

Here in our lovely mermaid lagoon, we are all abuzz with the holiday of love. And because we’re in such a happy mood, we wanted to share some stories and memories from mermaid-pasts. Best of all, we’re celebrating all week long! We hope you enjoy!

Today’s stories are guaranteed to melt your heart. Behind every beautiful flower, sparkly crystal and shining star are the real heroes. Here are some examples….

 

Roses, Tulips, Lilies
Carlene Love Flores

A soldier once sent his wife flowers for Valentine’s Day.  She would never know how he’d pulled it off.  It shouldn’t have been possible.  That big ole desert was far, far away and most days that year, even emails had been scarce.

But sure enough, three bouquets were delivered to her Oklahoma doorstep that morning.  Roses, Tulips, Lilies.

But soldiers do extraordinary things every day.  So when the wife sits and thinks about that Valentines, she doesn’t wonder for too long.  She’s just thankful.

 

Some Flowers Do Last Forever
Kim MacCarron

My husband is not the most romantic man in the world.

But, every once in a while he surprises me.  Mother’s Day of 2005 was just such a day.  By this time, we’d been married for not quite six years, and we had four children.  Romance wasn’t really that high on our list of priorities.   We fell into a daily grind of getting very young children ready for the day and basically stumbling through it until we climbed, exhausted, into bed at night.

On this particular day, my husband arrived home to tell me that he bought me flowers for Mother’s Day.  I casually glanced around him, looking for a dozen long-stemmed red roses.  No such luck.  I grinned and rolled my eyes.  Typical of my husband to not get caught up in another commercial holiday.

After putting the kids to bed that night, we climbed into bed and watched Desperate Housewives together, and after it was over, I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth.  When I came back into the room, I saw a Reed’s Jeweler’s bag sitting on my dresser.

Jewelry trumps flowers any day of the week, as far as I’m concerned.  He was grinning at my surprised expression, and I tried to not tear into the bag.

When I finally looked, I saw not one but four little boxes.  Four!  When I opened the first one, it wasn’t jewelry at all.  It was something far better than that, something I’d been collecting for years.  Swarovski crystals.  This particular one was a pretty pink crystal flower in a vase.  The next box revealed the same one.  The final two were yellow flowers.  Four separate flowers to represent our four children—two girls and two boys.

I blinked hard to not let the tears fall because I really hate to cry in front of him, but, man, it was hard.  He knows how much I love Swarovski crystals.  Oh, and my kids, of course.   That was the best, most thoughtful present he could have given me.

Placing my beautiful crystal flowers on the dresser, I sashayed over to the bed.  I’m not sure how great I looked sashaying when I had a baby seven months before, but I did my best.

About two weeks later, I had to tell him that I needed another flower.

Flowers wilt.  Cards become compost.  But those five Swarovski flowers still sit in my curio cabinet, reminding me of my best Mother’s Day gift of all.  Not my flowers.  My daughter…Shannon.

Shooting Star
Dana Rodgers

Several years ago my husband came home from work to find me on the couch in the fetal position. After a terse reminder that my abdominal pain had been getting increasingly worse over the past two days and me confessing the little incident where I just about collapsed a couple of hours earlier (I was fairly certain a Mac truck had been plowing through my living room and deemed it appropriate to rip out my intestines while passing by). My husband scooped me up and whisked me off to our local Emergency Room, chastising me for not calling him along the way.

Two hours later I was terrified. The plethora of tests revealed that I was pregnant, but it was ectopic. The fallopian tube had ruptured and the reason I was having severe abdominal pain, along with the overwhelming desire to sleep, was because I was hemorrhaging, badly. The doctor said that if I had gone to bed, I wouldn’t have woken up.

My husband held my hand all the way down the hall when they wheeled my gurney to pre-op and said all of the mushy things I needed to hear. It was one of the handfuls of times I have ever seen my 6’6, 230lb Marine get a little misty. (For the record, the other times involved a 14-month separation and the birth of our children–what a guy.) He was there when I woke up, stayed by my side in the hospital, and was there to support me through the emotional aftermath. (And trust me, that wasn’t pretty.)

A few months later, Valentine’s Day rolled around. I was thinking that we’d exchange cards, I might get chocolate, but since we don’t really buy into the commercialized holiday thing it wouldn’t be a big deal. I was Oh-So-Wrong! My husband strolled in that evening, grinning ear to ear, and handed me a letter-sized envelope and flowers. It was a star. My husband had named a freaking STAR after me. I mean how cool is that??? When I asked him why, he said that I was his compass and the light in his life, that I had scared the shit out of him and that he never wanted to be without me. Wow. I mean really, W-O-W!

So why do I write Romance? How could I not when I live with all that hero inspiration every day? I never want to be without him either.

 

We hoped you enjoyed our stories today. Come back tomorrow for more sweet stories that are sure to make you feel all gooey (in a good way)!

 

 

Happy Valentine’s Week – Day One

Avery Flynn, Kerri Carpenter, Loni Lynne, mermaids, , , , , , , , ,

Happy Valentine’s Week from the Waterworld Mermaids!!!

Here in our lovely mermaid lagoon, we are all abuzz with the holiday of love. And because we’re in such a happy mood, we wanted to share some stories and memories from mermaid-pasts. Best of all, we’re celebrating all week long! We hope you enjoy!

Today’s stories beckon us back to the past. Super romantic gestures, crushes and kisses aren’t solely reserved for adults. Many spectacular things happen throughout our lives. Here are some examples…. Continue reading →