Author Diane Burton wears three sub-genre hats and wears them very well: science fiction romance, romantic suspense, and mystery. Last week, she released the latest in her Outer Rim series of science fiction romance novels: The Protector. I invited Diane to visit and persuaded her to answer a few questions about herself and her work.
Welcome, Diane.
Thanks, Jolana. I’m happy to be here.
And here we go! Continue reading »
Macho Guy returned home wide-eyed with excitement from golf the other day. He was so ecstatic, I thought he was about to tell me that he made a hole in one. Nope. It was something far more important and life altering.
While driving in to the course, one of MG’s golfing buddies saw a sign outside Reese Farms, the growers of the best “peaches and cream” sweet corn in the area. Nearly drooling, all aglow with barely controlled glee, MG announced that the sweet corn is in! The roadside stand is open for business! We have to drive over there now, now, now, before they sell out!
The beginning of baseball’s 2015 season was thrilling for Detroit Tigers’ fans. Our boys of summer in blue and orange ran onto the field and kicked butt, winning their first six games of the year.
Macho Guy and I celebrated another wedding anniversary this week. Well, maybe celebrated is too grandiose a word to describe how we marked it. We didn’t do a romantic getaway, as is our wont. It isn’t as if we’ve done it all. We haven’t.
We had fits trying to think of a new and unusual getaway this year that was also romantic. That is so embarrassing for a writer of romance to admit. Oh, the shame of it all.
Our first big anniversary getaway was a tour of Italy. Our anniversary falls in July, which is undisputedly the most wretchedly hot and humid month of summer. We traveled through Italy on a tour bus with inoperative air-conditioning, drowning in perspiration. Have you ever tried to bite into a semi-liquid chocolate bar from Perugia? Most of the hotel rooms were “naturally air-conditioned” too. It was so hot that summer in Italy I gave up wearing a bra. I gave up wearing makeup too because it melted and slid off my face.
The title of this post has everything to do with a bit of advice my Dad gave me when I turned sixteen and I was deemed old enough to start dating—in groups at that time—but I’m getting ahead of myself. Dad had certain strict rules and gave me scads of advice when I began to go out on dates.
