You know who you are… 
Okay, working very hard to complete In the Flesh. I’m nearing the end and then it will be on to edits.
And that’s all I have to say about that.
Oh, I’ll be here on Friday – with D.C. McMillen for her Friday Spotlight!
Short post.
Just in case you forgot… here’s the cover once again!
Oh, and enjoy this wonderful commercial – This is why I love the Superbowl!
Our Tenth President, John Tyler, was born in the year 1790. That’s a mere fourteen years after the Declaration of Independence was written.
Okay folks, listen up. John Tyler’s grandson is still alive and well. I’m not joking. A man who was born two hundred and twenty-two years ago has a living grandson, Lyon Tyler. This borders on science fiction/fantasy.
From News Channel 5 in Nashville, TN -
“President Tyler’s first wife (Leticia) died while he was in office. He soon remarried a much younger lady (Julia).
“And somebody said aren’t you a little too old for her and he said I’m in my prime. And they said where will you be when she’s in her prime? But he was primed up all the way through and he had seven more kids,” Lyon says.
“One of those kids was Lyon’s dad, who also married a second time later in life.
“He got married at 70 and had three more kids,” Lyon told NewsChannel 5 reporter Steve Hayslip.
“Yea, mom was 35,” Lyon says with a smile.
“That makes Lyon grandson to the 10th President.”
Oh my god, this is so cool! To think that a man born in the Eighteenth Century has a living grandson.
The young Tyler was a hottie! And he married a Julia. Yowza! I find this fascinating. Imagine if your grandfather sired your father at the age of, say, one hundred - which is not beyond the realm of possibility, and your father sired you at the age of one hundred and you are now one hundred years old, your grandfather would have been born three hundred years ago, in the year 1712. (Is my math correct? I’m math-challenged.) Think of the implications!
When I was 18, I dated a PhD student – he was 26. He was the son of a share-cropper and his third wife. When my friend was born, his father was 82 years old. There ya go.
A fan/friend sent me this link yesterday – Can you name the most common occupations of heroes in Harlequin romance novels? I hope this link works – Sporcle was kind enough to tweet me the correct link.
So have fun, take the test, and then come back here and share your list of the most common occupations of romance heroes – doesn’t have to be a Harlequin hero.
Here’s my list, some are sort of interchangeable:
Highland Laird.
Prince/Sheik/King.
Millionaire.
Special Forces/Navy SEAL.
Cop/Detective.
Super Hot Space Alien.
Vampire/Shifter/Fae.
C’mon, give me your list and I’ll sweeten the pot – a paperback copy of the first two books of Daughters or Persephone and a pdf or Kindle copy of books three and four. It’s a win/win, guys.
I’m gonna be very un-PC here and say that the people who uphold family values should stop worrying about gay marriage and start lobbying for laws prohibiting celebrity marriage.
For crying out loud – Heidi Klum and Seal? Their breakup is the last straw for me. Four kids, four kids. (Three biological, he adopted her oldest child.) The two seemed so happy. I figured they were in it for keeps. Damn!
I mean, c’mon, I knew J-lo and Marc what’s-his-name were a lost cause from the beginning. Demi and Ashton? Really? As if that was a surprise. Madonna and whoever? Yeah, right. Jennifer Anistson and Brad? The night she forgot to thank him in her Golden Globe speech, my fourteen year old daughter sat on the couch and pontificated thusly, “Their marriage is history.”
This is nothing new. How many times was Elizabeth Taylor married? Ten? Twelve?
Seriously, if you’re a celebrity, just don’t get married. Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russel have been together for years. They aren’t married. Brad and Angie seem to be making it work, at least I hope it keeps working.
Sorry, I’m shaking my head. This ain’t marriage, this is falling in love with falling in love.
Oh, and FYI, author Sheryl Lynn wasn’t blowing smoke when she said her romantic suspense novel, Midnight Investigation, is scaring the piss out of me. It is. Scaring the bloody piss out of me.
Have you ever wondered about the etymology of the word “pants”? I mean, we all say, “Let me get my pants on,” and “Pull your pants up.” You’re really wearing a pair of pants, or are you? I’m wearing one pants. One plural pants.
The word pants is what’s known as the pair phenomenon. It’s like binoculars. It’s a pair of binoculars but it’s really just one binoculars. I bet you’re wearing your glasses too! Another pair.
The word pants comes from pantaloons, after Pantalone, a stock comedic character in 16th Century Italian theater always depicted as a foolish old man wearing short, baggy pants.
Here’s a very funny post about the word pants, and how it makes Star Wars better.
Gotta admit, I do love words.
