Julia Barrett's World

I have a contest going on at Stumbling Over Chaos:

http://www.stumblingoverchaos.com/?p=5864

The link will go live after midnight tonight, Pacific Time.

Drop by. Leave a comment, and you might win yourself a copy of my new romance/suspense with Cobblestone Press - My Everything. The contest will run through February 11th and the book releases on the 12th.

In other contest news - check the post below regarding Mia Watt’s menage/multiple, F.U.

Leave a comment with the words - Enter me! Enter me now! and put yourself in the running for a copy of her fantabulous book. I’ll choose a winner, at random, on Monday and announce it right here.

In the meantime, enjoy the cover and stay tuned for exciting announcements over the weekend and next week. Interviews! Contests! A week of Valentine’s fun and prizes from Siren-Bookstrand authors!

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“And remember my sentimental friend, a heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others.” The Wizard of Oz to the Tin Man.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always preserves.”
- 1 Corinthians 13:4-7

How on earth are you ever going to explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as first love? Albert Einstein

I hold it true, whate’er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all. Alfred Lord Tennyson

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings. Anais Nin

Where love rules, there is no will to power; and where power predominates, there love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other. Carl Jung

For there is one thing I can safely say: that those bound by love must obey each other if they are to keep company long. Love will not be constrained by mastery; when mastery comes, the God of love at once beats his wings, and farewell — he is gone. Love is a thing as free as any spirit; women naturally desire liberty, and not to be constrained like slaves; and so do men, if I shall tell the truth. Geoffrey Chaucer

Free love? As if love is anything but free! Man has bought brains, but all the millions in the world have failed to buy love. Man has subdued bodies, but all the power on earth has been unable to subdue love. Man has conquered whole nations, but all his armies could not conquer love. Man has chained and fettered the spirit, but he has been utterly helpless before love. High on a throne, with all the splendor and pomp his gold can command, man is yet poor and desolate, if love passes him by. And if it stays, the poorest hovel is radiant with warmth, with life and color. Thus love has the magic power to make of a beggar a king. Yes, love is free; it can dwell in no other atmosphere. Emma Goldman

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Off to my Nazi esthetician

for an emergency pimple-ectomy and skin scraping. Gawd, I love Tammy. There is no one on earth who can take care of a painful pimple like my Nazi esthetician. I had to run my daughter over there yesterday for the same thing, an emergency pimple-ectomy. One of the drawbacks of Mediterranean/Sephardic skin - no wrinkles, but occasional breakouts. Today will be fun because Tammy will torture me with the works! An eyebrow wax, bikini wax…ow…micro-dermabrasion, extraction, and then she’ll soothe me with an ultra-sound deep moisturizing treatment. Ah…so painfully good.

I woke up this morning with my German shepherd lying next to me, in my bed. He’d burrowed under the covers and laid his head on my husband’s pillow. He looked just like a little hairy man, or a big hairy man. My husband gets mad because I’m not a cuddler except with the pets. I’ll bury my nose in the dog’s hair and sleep with my arm around him all night. He’s so big and so wolf-like in appearance that I feel as if I’m sleeping with a wild animal. If I raised a lion, tiger, leopard, cheetah, they’d be sleeping with me too. Wouldn’t you just love to bury your face in a lion’s mane? I sure would.

Speaking of cuddling - do you sleep all wrapped up with your sweetie or do you need space? Aside from the pets - and I sleep in a pile with the hundred pound dog and three cats, I need space. Can’t sleep if any part of my husband’s body touches mine. Is that weird? I can sleep with a cat on each shoulder, one on my feet, and the dog lying with his head on my stomach, but if my husband pokes a finger in my direction, I push it back to his side of the bed. Does that make me a bad person?

Oh yeah, and Mia Watts said that if Julia Barrett was a man, she’d be my love slave for life! Uh-huh. Go, Mia. Go, Mia. Check out our love fest at http://miawatts.blogspot.com/

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Me

So my husband and I met at summer camp when I was fourteen and he was sixteen. He worked as a junior counselor and I was a camper - arriving in the session designated for teens. My very first day there, I watched him, shirtless, on the softball field, run down a high fly ball and make a diving catch to save the game and I knew right then and there I would marry him. No doubt in my mind.

We lived in different states so for the next six years, we wrote letters, talked long-distance late at night when the cost dropped and saw each other…oh…maybe a handful of times - Altogether I would guess that we spent no more than two weeks in each others company. Finally, when I was twenty and he was twenty-three, we spent an entire week together. All I’m at liberty to tell you about that visit is…censored!

Anyway, after seven days together, we fought - because he got scared, and I mean terrified about the direction our relationship had taken…so he picked a fight with me about the shortness of my miniskirt. And we broke up. The next year was one heartache after another for me and I ended up with another man who was the bizarro or cracked mirror version of my true love. On the rebound, I married him.

Four years and one child later, we divorced. Two years later, after not having seen each other or spoken a single word to each other in six long years, my true love called me at two in the morning and asked if he could come visit. He drove eight hundred miles, stopping only for gas. I waited for him in the driveway of my small house. He climbed out of his car, picked me up in his arms, carried me off to bed - my son was with a sitter - and two hours later, asked me to marry him. I said, “Let me think…yes!” And that was that! Ah, true love!

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