Rats and fleas! Today’s the last day for me to blog, and I’m going to miss you. By the way, please excuse all the typo errors on yesterday’s post. I was so brain-tired last night when Gil called me to dinner that I posted without being careful.

You know what I’ve been doing all day? Income tax. That’s right, I’ve been slumped over the kitchen table going over all our tax information, a calculator in one hand and a yellow marker in the other. My eyes are blurry and itchy from rubbing them after petting the dogs (and doing a bit of sniffling). Smart, huh? I know I’m allergic to them and still I cuddle them like they were thousand dollar bills.

Bet the money wouldn’t make my eyes swell and itch, though. Huh! Can you picture me, with only a couple books out, even having thousand dollar bills to look at? Much less snuffle?

Gosh, Bonnie, are you my twin? I thought I was the only one who looked in the mirror and said, “Who the hell are you?” *snort!* Poor Gil. I dress in the closet, and when I take a shower, I shut the door. He thinks I’m shy. I’m really trying to spare him the shock of seeing what time has done to my, er, body. Bet you thought I was going to say boobies, didn’t you? Really, I’m afraid if he saw me bare-arsed in full daylight, he’d keel over.

As to your questions, the only book I’m promoting now is Midnight’s Bride, due out in October. I had so much fun writing it, snickering and cackling like a fool. Gil would come into the office and ask me what the heck I was making all the noise about. He knew I was writing about a man who became a berserker when he lost his cool. What could be funny about that? That’s when he decided I’d officially lost my mind. By the way, I do talk to my characters.

Now Bonnie, if I knew the secrets of success, I wouldn’t be here struggling with my taxes and worrying about how I was going to get enough sales for Midnight’s Bride to impress my agent and Kensington.

I’ve really given up impressing anyone, by the way. What you see is what you get. I can’t be the woman in my fairytale profile. I can’t bastardize my writing to please a trend that’ll be gone by the time the book’s published. I can’t be an erotic writer with all sex and a light plot. I don’t want to write contemporary. *sigh*

And by the way, I can’t do the hard Soduko puzzles either. I’ll post a tiny section about that tomorrow and hope to sneak it by Karenne.

Gil’s fixing rib eye steaks tonight, so I’m salivating. Don’t you wish you were here?