The weather here is finally starting to warm, reminding me of Spring Break nights in South Beach, before the heat and humidity of a Miami summer make it unpleasant.

With such thoughts running through my brain (and me wanting to ask my boss if I can sit outside and work!), I figured it was time for a quick trip back to South Beach.

This little excerpt is about Virginia and Pablo, Sylvia’s parents who are in the throes of their own romance during the course of the SOUTH BEACH CHICAS CATCH THEIR MAN novel. The original version contained a lot more background about their early romance, but it was just too much to include. I am very thankful, however, that my editors loved the idea of showing a vital fortysomething woman coming to grips with a lost love.

These scene is in SOUTH BEACH CHICAS CATCH THEIR MAN and I hope you enjoy it!

The night progressed leisurely, with the two of them talking, mostly about the villa and the renovations, and sharing the delicious meal and of course, Pablo’s wine. She was almost sorry when Pablo took away the dishes for the dessert, since she hated for the interlude to end.

“This has been lovely,” she said, fiddling with her napkin as it sat on the tabletop.

He covered her hand with his. “Who says the night is over?”

As he twined his fingers with hers, he stood and she went with him, following him to the lower landing of the patio near the water. She realized there was a small boombox on the side railing of the veranda.

Pablo detoured by there only long enough to turn it on and adjust the volume until the low melodious tones of the music drifted through the night. With an impatient tug on her hand, he led her to the center of the landing.

Virginia stumbled a bit on one of the slabs, but Pablo caught her in his arms.

“I must have that fixed,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her close.

“Yes, of course. Fix it,” she replied, although she was grateful for the floor’s rather timely intervention since left to her own devices, she would definitely not be pressed to his hard body and that would have truly been a shame.

She laid her head against his chest and swayed with him to the nearly indistinct sounds of the music. The low bass beats carried through the night air, slightly louder. Or maybe it was the beat of her heart. Of his. Low and steady. Close against her breast.

He moved one hand up and placed it in the middle of her back. His skin hot. The roughness of it enticing.

She picked up her head and met his gaze. His eyes seemed an even darker green in the dim light, but his smile was brilliant as he asked, “Are you having a nice time?”

With a nod, she said, “Very nice. There’s only one thing that might make it even nicer.”

His smile broadened and he dipped his head until his lips were only an inch from hers. “De verdad? And what would that be?”

She raised herself on tiptoe, eliminating that final inch of distance. With a whisper against his lips, she said, “This.”

The kiss began innocently enough, with the simple meeting of their lips. Followed by another kiss and then another until they were straining toward each other, hungry for more.

“Maybe it’s time we went somewhere — “

“More private?” she said and without missing a beat, snagged his hand and led him back toward the limo, where Pablo asked the driver to take them for a ride around town.

He helped her into the back seat, slipped in beside her and immediately put up the privacy screen. After, he reached for her and eased her onto his lap where once again, they resumed the kiss.

Virginia opened her mouth to his, accepted the thrust of his tongue. He tasted like his wine and the sweet berries they had shared for dessert. In between kisses, she said, “Sylvia warned me about this.”

“Really? But who kissed who first, amorcito?” he teased and worked his way to the edge of her mouth and then down to the crook of her neck and shoulder.

She held his head to her, shuddered as he sucked there and then soothed the spot with a kiss. “That feels good.”

“Hmm. I’d like to feel that, too,” he confessed and with clumsy fingers, she undid his tie and shirt collar, bent her head and sucked on him.

His skin was salty. Undeniably masculine. The muscles of his upper shoulder firm. She bit down and he groaned, slipped his hand to the middle of her back and urged her closer.

But the only way to accomplish that was to straddle his legs, which she did, bringing the hard length of his erection to nestle between her legs.

She paused at the pressure of him there and looked down at him. “You do have protection, don’t you? I promised Sylvia I’d be responsible.”

Pablo chuckled and laid his hands at her waist, keeping her hips immobile. “I’ve heard it said that children get in the way of romance. I just never thought it would happen quite like this.”

Virginia laughed and cradled his face in her hands. “Is this a romance or are we two sad, old people grasping at our youth?”

The mirth on Pablo’s face softened, but didn’t completely recede. With care and patience, he slipped his hand beneath the edge of her dress. Slowly moved upward until he was cupping her naked breast in his hand. Her nipple beaded immediately and he smiled at that.

“Old? I’ve always heard that a woman in her forties is at her prime sexual peak.” As if to emphasize his point, he grasped the tip of her nipple and gently caressed it, drawing a gasp from her.

“It seems that may be right,” he said . . .

Copyright 2007 Caridad Pineiro Scordato, www.caridad.com

Okay, it’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it! Reuters is reporting that researchers in the United Kingdom “will explore whether compounds called flavonoids found in chocolate and other foods can reduce the risk of heart disease for menopausal women with type 2 diabetes. . .”

In order to conduct the studies, they need volunteers. I suspect they may find themselves with a waiting list of volunteers.

Actually, not eating the chocolate is one of the hardest things about my diet/lifestyle change. I love chocolate. Actually, who doesn’t love chocolate (although come to think of it, my daughter doesn’t like chocolate!).

So what can you do to make the chocolate count?

Well, according to some, dark chocolate can help lower high blood pressure.

Dark chocolate contains flavonoids which are anti-oxidants and can protect against free radicals which can cause heart disease. These flavonoids are present in red wine, tea, all kinds of berries, nuts and other fruits and vegetables. The flavonoids in chocolate are called flavonols and they help build nitric oxide in your body.

What does nitric oxide do? Some studies suggest that this compound helps keep blood flowing and prevents platelets from sticking together to cause clots, leading to a healthier heart.

A CNN report indicated that chocolate can also improve your skin, boost memory and attention span by increasing blood flow to the brain! Not to mention that dark chocolate has been linked to reducing bad cholesterol!

So, have a bit of chocolate (the darker the better), but remember that chocolate has lots of fat and usually sugar so moderation is key. I found some organic sugar free dark chocolate that only had about 200 calories per serving and was pretty tasty. The serving size on that bar was 9 squares of chocolate which was more than I needed for the typical craving, so I was able to keep calorie/fat down by eating less of it each time.

The Hershey’s Sugar Free chocolates are pretty good as well and according to their nutrition facts, a 16 gram bar has 80 calories (35 from fat).

Also try Almond M&Ms, which have 200 calories per serving (100 fat calories however). The Almond M&M’s have the added benefit of the almonds which are also high in antioxidants.

Want to share your love of chocolate? Check out Virtual Chocolate, on online website totally dedicated to what else — chocolate!

Hope this Tuesday Tip helps with your chocolate cravings!

Seems apropo to bring you Jesse L. Martin this Monday since last week was Martin’s final episode on the long-running Law & Order show. Always elegant and professional, Martin’s presence on the show helped soothe the loss of Jerry Orbach. Martin and Orbach were perfect together and both will be sorely missed.

As for whether Martin is hot . . . Well, I always thought he was a totally sexy man and so did many of my friends! There’s just something so silently sensual about his look and the way he moves . . .

Besides being a hottie, Martin is an accomplished actor who has been on numerous shows and was also one of the original cast members of the popular Broadway show RENT. He reprised his role in the recently released film version of that show.

Here’s a clip from that final show courtesy of the NBC website!

We’ve been teased with a bit of spring weather in New York and like most office denizens, we can’t wait to head out once the weather gets nice. I work with my sis and one of our favorite places to go for a picnic lunch is the Tudor City Greens which are about two blocks from our office.

The Tudor City Greens are these beautiful little parks and playgrounds tucked one story above 42nd Street. Quiet and serene, they’re a great place to get away from the noisy bustle of Midtown Manhattan. Another little known fact, there’s a bridge across 42nd Street that joins the two Tudor City Greens parks and if you stand smack in the middle of that bridge, you can see the East River and Long Island on one side and to the west, the Palisades and New Jersey. As far as I know, it’s the only spot on Manhattan Island where you can see from one side of the island to the other.

Of course, what do you wear when that Spring tease of weather emerges and you need a jacket in the morning and night? After seeing all the women out on the streets of New York in the past few days, the answer to this fashion question is clear — a denim jacket!

So, today’s Fashion Friday is about denim jackets!

Now, I’m inherently frugal (translation cheap) and for me the best buys on denim are generally at Old Navy, especially toward the end of season when they are busy slashing prices. But even when they are not on sale, it’s tough to get a better deal.

Here’s what Old Navy is offering this season:

The jacket on the left is your traditional slightly distressed denim jacket while the one on the right is Old Navy’s Plus Size version. Both are nice and fairly affordable so you can add them to your collection. Best thing is, get a classically-styled jacket and it only gets better with age as the denim fades and softens with wear (dare we say how sexy men look in a nicely aged denim jacket that hugs those broad shoulders and lean waists?)

You can pair a denim jacket with dress pants and a nice top for a slightly casual look or of course, with jeans and a simple top for a totally casual look. Just make sure the denim on the jacket doesn’t clash with the denim in the pants. The color and texture of the denim should be close.

You may also find sometimes that too much denim doesn’t work, making you look way too big. Depending on your body type, opt for a darker color to slim down problem areas and leave the denim for your better half.

Hope today’s Fashion Friday tip helped!

Have a great weekend.

There’s a Native American proverb that says that we do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, but rather borrow it from our children.

With Earth day just having passed, it made me think not only about the environment today, but what steps we are taking for the future and how that will impact on things. I know the things that I try to do and maybe you can do them as well.

As a writer, I tend to use a lot of paper, but I’ve tried to cut back on that by doing more editing on my laptop and using both sides of the paper when I do have to print. Also, I try to do submissions electronically and if people ask me for reviews, I ask them to send their ARCs electronically. No sense losing a tree for a review.

Will I ever give up books in print for just e-books? I’m not sure I can do that since I love the feel of a book in my hands and there’s just too many e-book formats running around for me to plunk down major money on what might be the next Betamax or HD-DVD.

I recycle bottles and cans, although I’m a little worse at recycling the latter. The problem is that I usually drink soda out of cans in my office and I don’t have a separate recycle wastebasket there, so I plan on being better about that so that next Earth Day, I can say I took a positive step toward preserving the earth for my munchkin.

I drive green, meaning I try to watch my speed and not do jack rabbit starts or other things that unnecessarily eat up gas. My cars are relatively fuel efficient, but I’d definitely go to an American-made Hybrid if I could get the fuel in my area. Why American-made? Well, that’s a topic for a whole ‘nother discussion.

Why not hybrid now? Well, I noticed a Flex-Fuel SUV the other day while I was in Philly and thought, why not get one when I need a new car? Of course, I looked up where I could get Ethanol 85 in my area and the closest filling station was 45 miles away! So I’d waste fuel to get fuel and that makes absolutely no sense.

What else do I do? I try to shut off any lights I’m not using and chase after my husband and daughter who leave lights on all over the house. Also try to conserve water when I can, although it’s tough to cut back on that long morning shower that gets me going every day.

Finally, I love plants as you may have guessed from the shots of my garden last year! I plant trees and other things when I can and try to conserve those trees that I have in my yard. Plus, I’ve been active in trying to save/perserve our local wetlands, farm lands and a pond. Not an easy thing, but the combined efforts of many managed to preserve many acres of wetlands, a small hardwood forest and a pond. These efforts also helped raise money for a local horse ranch that conservationists are trying to keep in its natural state.

So, ask yourself what you can do while you’re borrowing this Earth from your children. Every little bit does help in keeping the Earth healthy so that our children and their children may enjoy it.

Today’s Wicked Wednesday is a little treat from my NY Times and USA Today Bestseller MOON FEVER, an anthology with the amazing Maggie Shayne, Susan Sizemore and Lori Handeland. I loved creating a mythology based on shapeshifters and setting it in the Amazon. My hope was that you’d not only enjoy seeing a different kind of creature, but that you’d take away some of the concerns about human encroachment and destruction of the Amazon rainforest.

Today’s tidbit comes after the heroine, Jessica, is attacked outside her hut and the hero, Javier, comes to her rescue — not that she needs rescuing!

Also, my friend LA Banks sent a link to some pictures from RT, so click here to check them out!

Jessica took hold of his hand and led him into the hut.

She flipped on a battery-powered lantern she had brought with her and quickly pulled a small first aid kit from her supplies. Placing the kit on the desk to one side of the hut, she removed what she would need to dress the wound.

As she turned, she realized Javier had come to stand close and her elbow brushed across the hard muscles of his midsection, reminding her of all his blatant masculinity.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, but then laid a hand against the taut muscles at his waist to urge him to toward the light so she could examine the nature of the wound.

The knife had caught him across a rib, preventing the blade from biting too deeply, but the long cut would need to be closed somehow. “This may hurt,” she said as she wet a piece of gauze with some antiseptic.

“I think I can handle it,” he replied, but he flinched and his muscles jumped as she applied the gauze to his side. He muttered a curse beneath his breath even though her touch was gentle as she cleansed the area.

She told herself not to appreciate his amazing body as she worked, but it was nearly impossible with so much lean muscle and creamy skin so enticingly close. She hurried as much as she could, using the various butterfly bandages in her kit to close the gaping edges of the wound before taping a piece of gauze over the injury.

Lightly she smoothed the tape around the edges of the gauze, trying to ignore his physical presence. Trying not to see how the reddish rosette patterns played across his skin and the palm bands hugged an impossibly lean waist and thick-muscled chest.

As she shot a glance up at him, she realized that he was as affected as she, no matter their earlier enmity. His breath was ragged, but not with pain.

With desire.

He bent from his greater height until the edge of his jaw brushed the side of her forehead. His breath was warm against the sweat-damp skin there.

She stroked her hand over the gauze covering the wound, but he laid his hand there and stilled the motion.

His hand was hot. His palm deliciously rough and the pull came between her legs again as she imagined him touching her. Her nipples tightened in anticipation and to battle that feeling she asked, “Who was that man who attacked us?”

Javier stroked her hand lightly. Slowly shifted his hand upward to caress her forearm. “One of Armando’s goons.”

Needing to touch him as he caressed her, she picked up her other hand and mimicked his action, laying her hand on the sculpted biceps of his arm. As she stroked the hard moist flesh there, she asked, “Is the timber valuable enough — “

“To kill for? No. Armando has other reasons for hurting the tribe,” he said, moving his hand upward to cup the top of her arm, where he lightly caressed her skin with the pad of his thumb.

Her gaze locked with his, searching the strange gold-green gaze which revealed nothing but desire.

“What kinds of reasons?” she asked as she shifted her hand to his chest and traced the edge of the palm band encircling it. As she did, she fingered the hard nub of his nipple, dragging a ragged breath from him.

“Isn’t it enough for you to know you need to watch yourself?” Even as he said it, he cradled her breast and tweaked her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, causing a shudder to rip through her body.

“Well?” he challenged as he snaked his hand upward, slipped it beneath the edge of her tank top and drew down both the shirt and her bra to reveal her breast.

“Do you think you’re owed this little look because you came to my rescue?” she asked, but didn’t stop him as he lowered his head to taste the nipple he had exposed. If anything, she held him close, cradling the back of his head with her hand as she said, “Or do you think this is how to say thanks for my tending to you?”

He chuckled against her breast and gave an enticing lick with a cat-rough tongue before pulling away.

“You’re quite different from what I expected,” he said, stepping back to break contact with her as she rearranged her clothing, suddenly embarrassed by the unexpected interlude. It had to be the alcohol and guarana she told herself, denying her attraction to him was based on anything else.

“Why’s that?” she said, crossing her arms before her as if to provide some defense against his still hungry gaze.

“Because you’ve got more balls than most men I’ve met. Regardless, remember to be careful in the jungle tomorrow.”

With that he turned and walked out of the hut, leaving her to ponder just what had gone so wrong that she already had someone after her ass.

As she recalled Javier’s gifted mouth, she amended that thought with a smile.

Make that two people after her ass because she had no doubt that she and Javier would eventually finish what they had started tonight, although part of her was annoyed that he had managed to deflect her questions by arousing her passions.

She had come here in part for answers. To find out about the plant with the healing powers. To learn more about where Victor had died and possibly the why of it.

After today’s run-ins with Armando and his goons, she was wondering if they had anything to do with her friend’s death and vowed to find out.

As promised, here’s some photos from this year’s RT Convention in Pittsburgh! I had a great time with my friends and meeting lots of interesting new people. The panels were great and very exciting. We had standing room only for a number of them! Met lots of booksellers, readers and other authors not to mention the cover models.

If you’re not seeing the file below, try clicking on this link to view the file (FLASH is required)(and it may take a little bit for it to load since there’s lots of photos!): Romantic Times Photos

To advance through the photos, click on one of the blue arrows at the bottom left hand side of the slides.

OMG! I can’t believe I didn’t blog for you during the RT Convention, but it was impossible!! I ended up on about 8 or 9 panels and the days were longer than I thought they would be. I do have some nice pictures for you of various cover models and authors and will be uploading them tonight for you.

Even though I did all those panels, I had a great time and met so many wonderful people. I’ll write in greater depth tonight when I’ve got a little more time!

Sorry to not have given you a Fun Friday, but I’ve been swamped with both legal and writing work!! Plus, I’m off to RT. Hey Gretchen, there’s that picture of me and Adrian (NOT!)(although I am probably that short compared to him!).

I will try to get a picture for you, but as I mentioned, they are charging for that meal so I’ll have to stalk the corridors, waiting for him. LOL!

On another note, since I am going to RT, look for me to be a roving reporter this week from the trenches of this amazing romance book convention. Hopefully I can provide you some comments from other romance writers, booksellers, readers, the parties, you name it! Also, I’ll be blogging on the RT site on Thursday as well as offering some workshops. I’ll try to get a link for you soon.

Have a great Monday and I’ll keep you posted on my wild times at the convention.

For the past couple of years I’ve been headed to the RT Convention to meet booksellers, fellow writers and the amazing readers of romance.

Notice I didn’t mention the cover models. Much as I appreciate a good cover model (such as the one that appeared on my first book in 1999 and which also happened to grace the cover of RT), I sometimes worry whether putting so much focus on them loses sight of what’s between the covers. (Don’t worry, Gretchen, I will try to get that photo of Adrian Paul for you!).

I do like meeting the cover models as people though, since many of them are such wonderful down-to-earth guys.

And yes, I’m guilty of this fascination with six packs and firm buns since I love a good Guilty Pleasure as we all do on Monday mornings. But I know what I like even more — the story between the covers!

How do you feel about the cover models and our fascination with them? Do you ever buy a book just on the basis of the man on the cover?

I know that I certainly will pick up a book with a nice hunk on the cover, but not necessarily buy it after I read the jacket blurb. Of course, there are covers which don’t have nearly naked men on them and which catch my eye.

Here’s your chance to weigh in on the cover models! Love ‘em, hate ‘em, indifferent. Which are you?

Before we get to this Wednesday’s Wicked Excerpt, a big WOO HOO to the women of THE BIGGEST LOSER who finished 1 and 2 and may actually become the FIRST female Biggest Loser winner! Now, you can help make that happen since for the first time ever, THE BIGGEST LOSER is allowing the audience to chose who will be the third finalist!

So how can you help the women win? Vote for Mark to be the third finalist! Why Mark? He has less weight to lose and may not post as big a weight loss as Roger. Also, Mark has really shown that he’s a changed man in many ways. Give him a break since he would have likely been the women’s choice for the third finalist as well. To vote for Mark, please click here!

So now, here’s this week’s Wicked Wednesday which brings you yet a little heat from a story you’ve seen before — my urban fantasy involving a twist to the werewolf mythology, battles with vampires and a struggle for control in a werewolf pack. The tentative title is UNDEAD UPRISING and I hope you like this next free chapter that I’m offering you.

This is the continuation of the love scene between Ramon and Catalina as Ramon tries to help Catalina maintain her human form for as long as she can before her transformation to the wolf she hates.

For those of you who may have missed the first six chapters, you can read them here:

• Chapter 1
• Chapter 2
• Chapter 3
• Chapter 4
• Chapter 5
• Chapter 6

He slipped his body between her thighs and brought his mouth to the center of her. As he nibbled and sucked at her clitoris, he slipped his fingers inside her vagina, his strokes sure and increasing in strength and penetration when she responded more eagerly to his caresses.

She pushed her hips up into his mouth and hands, pulled at the shackles keeping her prisoner. Every movement of her body, of Ramon’s tongue and lips and fingers, brought her closer and closer to the edge until finally, something inside of her — maybe the wolf that was so close to being released — took hold and sent her senses tumbling on a wild ride.

She gasped. Her head fell back as she called out her completion.

Ramon experienced her climax beneath his fingers as it crashed through her body. He heard her wild call. Not a gentle, satisfying release that would leave her sated, but a savage hunger that still wanted more because the wolf waited to emerge.

He sensed it in her body, although he didn’t know how, but he did. It brought both fascination and fear. Shooting but a quick glance at his watch to check the time, he confirmed that the moon would be rising shortly.

Catalina knew that the beast threatened as well, for she whispered to him, “Keep me with you for just a little longer, amor.”

He knew what she needed. Sex and pain helped her to keep control, if only for a few minutes more. That was important to her. But he couldn’t relent and make love to her. Doing so would lead them on a road to much greater agony.

Catalina watched as he stood and stepped away from her. For a moment he hesitated, standing beside the edge of the bed and looking down at her. She hoped he would undo his pants and release the magnificent erection beneath the denim. She ached to feel him inside her. To hold him. She yanked at her restraints, aching to hold him, but he had done too good a job. She could not get free.

“Easy, love,” he said, sat on the edge of the bed, and caressed her breast. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His hand trembled at her breast for a moment and his tender gaze met hers. “We both know we can’t.”

“I’m sorry. I know this hurts you.”

He grasped her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and tweaked it harshly, dragging a gasp of pleasure from her. With a tight smile, he wondered aloud, “Maybe I like the pain as much as you do? Maybe that’s why I linger here when I should leave.”

Even as he said that, the first stirring of the wolf crept into the edges of her consciousness. The wolf who devoured the scents of her musk, ripe in the air. The rapid beat of his heart and his unfulfilled passion. Saliva dampened her mouth at the thought of feeding on that passion. On his flesh. She shook her head, forcing such feral thoughts away.

“Por favor. It’s coming.” As her gaze met his, he recognized her plea for what it was.

“Stay with me, amor,” he said and slipped his hand down between her legs once more, found her with his fingers.

Sensitized from her barely completed climax, his touch immediately brought a response.

He stroked her roughly, rousing the desire she wrapped around herself like a protective cloak. She concentrated on the movement of his fingers. The slip and slide and pull of them. On the sensitive skin on her back, awakened with each restless shift of her body.

She howled, but the combination of pain and passion helped her drive the beast away. After the howl, she quickly met his gaze. His troubled eyes, dark with emotion, asked what he could not.

“I’m . . . here,” she confirmed and yanked at the chains on the wall in frustration at the rumble of the wolf in her voice. She closed her eyes, focused on his fingers caressing her nether lips and clitoris. Imagined that it was something else, stroking, bringing the heat of sexual release. A heat that felt almost cold now compared to the fire building within her body as it prepared to transform.

Ramon must have felt it also since he plunged his fingers inside her with more force, trying to satisfy her in the only way his honor allowed. A way far removed from what she wanted, but that she would accept . . . for now.

She called out at the pleasure of his fingers filling her and opened her eyes, kept them trained on his face as he pleasured her, his movements sure and strong, growing more forceful as her body responded yet again to his caresses.

Her breath rasped raggedly in her throat. Her body shook with not only the pleasure he brought to her, but with the awakening wolf as her muscles clenched and quivered, battling for dominance. She tugged at the chains and kept her mind centered solely on her lover as he moved his hand between her legs. As he dipped his head and suckled at her nipples and then, with a rough bite, brought a pleasure strong enough to let her hold onto herself. To keep the wolf in check.

He picked up his head at her human cry of satisfaction and knew that what was she needed. What she wanted. Pain. Human pain. Passion. A woman’s passion.

Replacing his lips with his fingers, he tweaked her nipples more forcefully. Buried his head in the crook of her neck and sucked until her skin bruised from the force of it.

“Dios, that’s . . . good. Harder, mi amor. Harder,” she urged him on.

When he tightened his fingers on the sensitive tips of her breasts and bit down on her neck, she cried out her need and raised her hips. He returned his hand to her center, increasing his penetration until it, too, reached the point of pleasure-pain. All that was within her consciousness now was his presence. His love keeping her with him until finally, regretfully, another climax ripped through her.

Ramon’s breath was rough with his own need as Catalina’s release rocked his senses. As she screamed his name in her human voice and struggled against the shackles to be able to hold him, he sucked in a breath and imprisoned the desire raging in him. One that wanted to tear off his clothes and plunge into her, howl like the wolf she would become as he imagined how she would feel surrounding him.

Somehow he drove that vision away and ran his hands up her arms, laced his fingers with hers to keep her human self with him.

She gripped his fingers tightly, but as her body relaxed, she softly said his name one last time.

She had lost the battle for the control she treasured so greatly.

This Tuesday Tip is a recipe for a very flexible, sweet and sassy salad!

Yes, you read that right — Salad. I know I’ve avowed my aversion to the stuff in various posts, but this is one salad recipe that I love and will actually eat without much complaint. For those of you in the New York area, you may have seen something similar in Cosi, one of the chain sandwich shops. Nordstrom’s also makes a similar salad in their store cafe.

Why is it so tasty? Well, it’s got the sweet thing going, but also, you can mix and match any of a number of ingredients to make it just the way you want it. So, I’ll give you some of the variations and let you decide how to personalize.

Sweet and Sassy Salad

2 to 3 cups of greens (you can use romaine, red leaf lettuce, mesclun greens, arugula, spinach. I like it best with the mesclun greens. Definitely avoid the iceberg lettuce route)

1/4 cup crumbled goat cheese (you can also substitute blue cheese which is my favorite yum)

1/2 of a Ripe pear cubed (a nice crisp apple will also work)(if you like it sweet, use the whole fruit!)

1/2 of a tomato, cubed

Handful of dried cranberries (or raisins or currants)

Handful of pecans, chopped (or walnuts)

Handful of chopped scallions (but not onions unless you’re doing a mild Vidalia or Maui onion)

Put all of the above in a bowl and toss with a low fat balsamic vinegarette or another mild salad dressing. You don’t want to use a strongly flavored salad dressing because that will interfere/clash with the more delicate flavors of the fruits and cheeses. This salad is so flavorful, you may want to try it with just a hint of vinegar sans oil or even a citrus vinegarette.

A tip for chopping the nuts without having them go flying all around the counter — stick them in a sandwich bag, put them on the chopping board and with the back of your knife, just give them a few whacks. I guess you’re actually crushing them, but the nuts will break into the pieces and then you just empty the bag onto your salad!

Voila! A sweet and sassy salad that has a combo of things that are sure to keep you satisfied for a while, namely, some proteins, fats and carbs. One big dieting mistake is to just have plain ol’ salad with dressing and while the volume of the salad will fill you up, without any proteins/fats/carbs to sustain your energy levels, you are just asking for a major energy crash that will make you have hunger pangs.

OMG! I hope you will find this morning’s Guilty Pleasure especially guilty and pleasurable!! David Beckham. Bad boy, badder bod as this Emporio Armani ad demonstrates.

Also, if you haven’t seen BEND IT LIKE BECKHAM (where unfortunately he does not appear in the movie), check it out anyway. It’s a great movie about cultural clashes, male/female roles and racial bias. . . and of course, soccer. Did I mention the movie also features hottie Jonathan Rhys Meyers (currently of THE TUDORS) and a girl crush possibility — Keira Knightley?

As I promised, I chose a winner over the weekend for the Lisa Daily guest blog and give-away! FANNIE is the lucky winner! Could you please e-mail me your postal address?

Hope you all had a great weekend!

P.S. — Thanks to my sis for the inspiration for today’s Guilty Pleasure.

I got an e-mail today about Getting Clowned and I just had to check it!

Ringling Bros. Circus, which has been making its rounds in our area (Philly April 16-27), has a site where you can send a buddy an e-mail pie-in-the-face. Check it out www.igotclowned.com.

I don’t know about you, I’ve always found clowns to be kind of funny. My mom, however, never liked clowns. She had seen the famous Emmett Kelly and thought he was so sad. She could never shake his sadness whenever she saw a clown.

Anyway, start this Friday by clowing one of your friends with a pie-in-the-face! If you’re sending it my way, make sure it’s either cherry or peach and don’t forget the whipped cream!

Finally, a big thanks to the Maryland Romance Writers for a wonderful night! You rock!

Many thanks to Lisa for visiting with us yesterday and to all of you who took the time to come by and leave a comment! I’m running a little late, busy juggling things today, and will be picking a winner over the weekend.

Lisa has kindly donated a T-shirt and copy of the book for us and look for a winner to be announced on Monday morning!

Juggling. Seems like lately I’m doing more of that than I ever imagined. I’m running from the office to the house, working out, writing, preparing promo stuff, talking to the hubby and daughter, dealing with Spring and all the clean-up that involves around the house and yard. . .

Someone asked me how I do it all and there’s no easy answer. I do sleep, contrary to what some say about my being a vampire. I do eat (as we know sometimes too much! LOL!)

I do juggle a lot. I seem to have balls in the air all the time, but how do I keep from dropping one?

Well, it’s always a challenge, but I try to multi-task. I use every free moment I have to try and accomplish something. Hubby always asks me “What’s my schedule” and the reality of it is, I do have to schedule. Three hours to write. One hour on Saturday to clean in the yard. Another hour to do the weekly food shopping. Another hour to get to the gym, work out . . .

You get it. I do the same at work. Prioritize what’s urgent. Put together similar tasks to deal with them in the most effective way possible.

The same goes for writing. I try to get all the research done first and get it memorized so I don’t have to dig back for a lot of things while writing. I pre-write by using visualization techniques.

What’s that? Well, before going to bed, I watch the scene in my head, kind of like a movie. I do the same on the walk to work and on the walk back to the train station to head home. What does that mean? When I sit down to write, I’ve already got a movie of the scene that I’ve played and replayed in my head until it’s right. That lets me get to writing it right away rather than sitting there thinking about what I’ll write.

So, there’s some skill to the juggling and lots of practice and reinvention. If something’s not working right or using my time effectively, I stop and see how I can make it work better.

That’s my juggling act for today! I’ve got to get going because I’m headed off to speak with the Maryland Romance Writers tonight!

I was honored when Caridad offered me a guest spot on her fabulous blog for the debut of my novel, Fifteen Minutes of Shame – a story about what happens when America’s favorite TV relationships guru finds out her husband is cheating – live on national television.

Here’s an excerpt from my new book, Fifteen Minutes of Shame. Hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading!

Best,
Lisa

Wednesday, April 2, 2008 at 7:30pm, Borders, Signing & Launch Party, 1500 16th Street, Suite D, Oak Brook, IL 60523
Saturday, April 5, 2008 - 2:00pm, Signing & Launch Party, Borders, 600 North Orlando Ave, Winter Park, FL 32789
Thursday, April 10, 2008 at 7:00pm, The Debs Take Manhattan!
Special Debutante Ball signing with
Deb Lisa Daily signing Fifteen Minutes of Shame
and Deb Eileen Cook signing Unpredictable
Borders, 461 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10022

I hiss this to my best friend Jules, as I squat behind the smelly dumpster of a Gas-N-Go, trying to sneak a glimpse of my husband without getting caught.

“Damn.”

He glances in the general direction of the dumpster and I panic. I nearly fall over backwards and accidentally drop my cell phone into a murky puddle. It hasn’t rained in weeks, and I fear toxic waste, or worse, old convenience store hot-dog water as I fish out my phone and wipe it off on my sweatpants. It leaves a sort of greenish smear, and I don’t even want to imagine what it could be.

Last week I was on national television, wearing a cute little non-mommy outfit and my favorite pair of Christian Louboutins, talking about how every woman deserves a fabulous life, and how they too can snag the man of their dreams. This week I’m crouching in filth, looking a lot like a homeless person because I forgot it was my turn to drive carpool this morning and I rushed out of the house wearing dirty sweatpants, the “Who’s Your Daddy?” t-shirt I slept in and a pair of sparkly pink flip-flops. I can’t remember brushing my hair. Or my teeth.

“Are you there?” I whisper to Jules, “sorry, I dropped the phone.”

“What on this earth are you doin’?” she asks, in that honey-dipped drawl all men melt for. Jules is a flesh and blood, eighth-generation Southern belle. She hasn’t left the house without earrings since puberty. Any two-hour car ride with her includes a picnic basket fully stocked with ham biscuits. She’s always polite, and she’s always enviable. Jules would never be caught squatting behind a dumpster spying on her husband in her pajamas.

The truth is, I have no idea what I’m doing.

“He’s supposed to be in Atlanta.” I can feel myself rambling, “I packed his suitcase myself.”

“Are you absolutely sure it’s him?” Jules responds gently, “maybe it’s just someone who looks a lot like him.”

“You mean like an evil twin?” I crack, “no, I saw him straight on. It’s Will.”

Something is definitely up. Will exits the store carrying a small paper bag. He looks both ways before stepping off the curb and then opens the door of his silver SUV and slides into the driver’s seat. What’s in the bag? I wonder. Condoms? A microwave burrito?

“Maybe he’s taking a later flight,” Jules offered.

“Maybe.” I don’t think so. We live in Sarasota, a small city with a small airport. Usually the first flight is the last flight. Plus, Will does this Atlanta trip at least once a week for a liquor client based in Georgia. His flight leaves at eight-thirty-seven in the morning and he usually makes it home the next morning around the same time.

“Damn.” I can’t decide if I should hop back in my car and follow him to see where he’s going, or throw myself in front of his car so he knows he’s been busted. I panic and the moment passes. He drives off, and I stand, frozen in my puddle of muck until his car passes the intersection. My big opportunity to catch him the act of whatever’s keeping him from Atlanta has vanished. I feel like a jerk, but I don’t know if I could stomach whatever I might learn.

Normally, Will is not the kind of husband you worry about. He’s a blue-suit-wearing/sex-on-Friday/baseball-on-Saturday kind of guy. But my imagination starts churning and I envision all sorts of sinister possibilities: He’s having an affair. He’s an undercover agent for the CIA. He’s lost his biggest client and he’s too chicken-shit to tell me. I feel the early tinglings of panic.

“Or,” says Jules, “maybe his trip just got cancelled.” Leave it to Jules to be rational. “Why don’t you call him?”

Why don’t I call him? Genius! Jules is a genius! I’ll just call him and he’ll explain everything and we’ll laugh about the whole thing. I hang up with Jules and speed-dial Will. No answer. Crap.

His phone clicks over to voicemail immediately, which means the damned thing isn’t even turned on.

I get back into my car, which is parked high-speed-chase-style behind the dumpster. (Okay, so I wasn’t exactly focused on my parallel parking skills this morning when I swerved into the Gas-N-Go.) I was driving home after dropping off our carpool kids at school and almost drove over the median when I saw Will’s car pull into the parking lot.

As I head home, I try to clear my mind and think rationally. I take a deep breath and try to figure out how I’ve gone from “happily ever after” to panicking that my husband is an international terrorist/philanderer/pathological liar within the space of a few minutes.

It’s probably nothing. Crap, it’s definitely something.

I pull into our gated community, slowing down so that the scanner can read the barcode on the side of my gas-guzzling mommymobile. I inch forward until the nose of my car is just inches from the flimsy stick otherwise known as the “gate” designed to keep all manner of undesirables out of my neighborhood. What’s funny is that where I live in Florida, nearly all of the communities are gated communities. I’m not sure that we even have “undesirables.” If we do, knowing my neighbors, they’re special ordered from Barney’s. If you travel down any semi-main road here you’ll see guard shacks and electric gates every few miles. The parking lots at Whole Foods, Nuovo, and Siesta Beach are all populated with cars bearing the telltale barcode sticker on the rear window.

Sometimes, I can hardly believe I live here. Overnight, I went from a single-girl shoebox of an apartment, (apropos, I think, since my most prized possessions were primarily shoes) where I felt like I’d hit the jackpot if I was lucky enough to get an up-close parking space, or an open lounge chair at the pool, straight to suburbia (Do Not Pass Go) where my wedding ring and barcode sticker grant me an all-access pass to the gated kingdom of Botox moms.

And although I never had trouble fitting in, even after three years, I still kind of feel like I really don’t really belong here.

I hit redial on my phone. Will’s voicemail clicks on. Again. The gate is stuck. Again. The guard is busy with the line of cars in the visitor’s lane and doesn’t look up from his clipboard. He waves three cars through, barely glancing up. Apparently, all you need is a pizza or a lawnmower to gain entrance to this gated haven in suburbia. The front of my car is now practically touching the gate. It’s not moving. I roll down the window and wait patiently because I don’t want to be one of “those” women – who wave their manicured nails out the window for the backhanded salute, while they lean on the horn with their elbows, demanding priority service.

I try to catch the guard’s eye, hoping a little smile and a wave will do the trick.

“That lane is for residents only”, he shouts to me over the sound of a muffler-deficient station wagon filled with mops and Brazilian housekeepers.

“I am a resident.” I shout back, smiling purposefully. “The gate is not working today.” He rolls his eyes at me. Will and I have lived here for the entire three years we’ve been married. I go through this gate about six times a day. I call the guard shack about twice a day to add our friends, the bug man, the pool guy to “the list.” The man with the clipboard is Frank. He has two kids, and works the day shift at the North gate. He looks at me as though he has never seen me before.

“You need a sticker,” he says authoritatively.

“I have a sticker. Can you please just raise the gate? I’m really in a hurry,” I plead. All of a sudden, I’m flashing back to the scene from that old movie Trading Places where Dan Ackroyd has just gotten out of jail, and when he gets to his house, not only will his key not work in the lock, but his butler pretends he’s never seen him before. OhMyGod, I’m going to have to move in with a hooker.

“You need a sticker,” he says again, pressing the magic button inside the guard shack.

Access at last. I peel through the gate, squealing the tires as I turn onto my street, popping my car into the garage like a pinball going down the chute for the last time. A wave of dread and denial washes over me like sewage.

Crap. Crap. Crap. Get it together. Get it together. Get it together.

Let’s review, okay? What did I really see?

Generally, I try not to be the overreacting type. I am in fact, a quite rational, thirty-one year old author and stepmother of two kids, Lilly and Aidan. Obviously, the Prince Charming I’d envisioned from the time I was eight years old was not exactly a divorced guy with two kids. But the kids I once thought would be a burden have turned out to be the center of my life.

Will is thirty-six, was formerly married to a formerly sane beauty queen (Miss Arkansas, if you must know) and we, the two of us, have custody of his kids, children I consider to be the most amazing six and eight-year-old on the planet. (Of course, I’m crazy about them, so I may be a little biased.)

Will and I have been married three years. We met when I was on tour for my first book, Secrets to Make the Guys Go Gaga and he was the PR guy who landed me a spot on Soap Talk. (Don’t laugh, it’s a real show.) After years of writing toothpaste jingles, and doling out dating advice to my girlfriends over margaritas, I figured a dating book was a good start to the dream I’d always had about becoming a “real” writer, not just someone who made a living spinning canned meat and golf spikes to the American public.

So, by sole virtue of my ability to turn a phrase and peg a loser at 500 feet, I’ve now become a dating guru.

To be honest, I’ve spent my whole life trying to make sense of men. Both my parents died in an accident when I was just a baby, and I was raised by my Grandma Vernie and her four sisters in an estrogen bubble. They were a wild, strong, loving, tight knot of Southern women; all of them had been married at one time to men they adored. Unfortunately, they were all widowed long before I hit kindergarten -–husbands had a habit of croaking at a very early age in our family. Great Uncle Joe was a legend, he’d lived to the ripe old age of 43. Until junior high, my only personal experience with how the male sex was supposed to operate came from secondhand stories the Aunties told me under the influence of bundt cake during our seven-hour Yahtzee marathons, late night reruns of Gene Kelly movies, and old clippings they’d saved from 1950s issues of Good Housekeeping on how to keep your husband happy. The first of my beloved Aunties, Ila Mae, passed away when I entered high school. My grandmother died the next year. By the time I was 19, they were all gone. And I found myself orphaned for the second time.

I thought that once I wrote the book, Oprah would call, and I’d be instantly catapulted to fame and riches. (Which, I’ve since learned, is a common fantasy among clueless first-time authors.) Instead, it brought me to Will, who told me, “Unless you’re a celebrity or a celebrity’s personal trainer, nobody cares whether you wrote a book or not.” When he booked me on Soap Talk, he told me, “I had to beg, borrow and steal to get you this one.”

I was grateful and horribly disappointed at the same time. Like finding out you’ve won a 5.7 million dollar lottery, and then learning you’ll be getting a nickel a week for 324 years.

Eventually, after a few years of dismal sales, the book took off and became a bestseller, surprising everyone including me. I was catapulted to the dating expert hall of fame. Producers and agents started calling, and suddenly I had a weekly guest spot on a big national TV show, my own radio call-in program, and even my own perfume. Two years after my book hit the shelves, I was recognizable to every woman in America under the age of sixty. Darby Vaughn: The Dr. Phil of Dating.

I dial Will’s phone again, and this time he picks up on the first ring.

“Hey!” I say quickly, attempting to sound like my perky, usual self, rather than the dumpster-diving maniac I’ve become in the last 17 minutes or so.

“Hi sweetheart,” he answers offhandedly, “I can only talk for a second, my flight was delayed and I’m already late for the meeting.”

“What do you mean? You’re still here?” God, I’m an idiot. Talk about freaking out over nothing. A sensation of reprieve rushes over me, and I feel the sickly-sweet relief of someone who’s just stepped off the human centrifuge ride at the carnival.

“Did you miss your Starbucks this morning or something?” he teases, “I’m in Atlanta, remember?”

My heart drops. “Wait, you mean right now?”

“Jesus, Darby. I’ve only been making this same exact trip for two years. What’s up with you today?”

“N-nothing,” I choke out, and my brain starts spinning again. My mind goes from zero to divorce court in 3.6 seconds.

“Um, when will you be back in town?” I ask cautiously.

“Tomorrow morning, same as always,” he snaps, and then softens. “Sorry, Darby, I don’t mean to be so cranky. I had a bad flight and it’s just sort of put a damper on my morning.”

“It’s okay…” I say numbly, unable to think of anything else at the moment.

“Hey babe, I’ve gotta run. Love you, love the kids.” His phone snaps off before I have a chance to respond. Instead, I throw up.

I scramble to aim for my open car window. Bad aim or bad luck, I miss the mark and vomit oozes down the inside of my door, and down the window crack.

I am not going to have a breakdown in my three-car garage.

**FIFTEEN MINUTES OF SHAME is now in bookstores everywhere.**

Today’s Tip is for all my friends in the Sisterhood of the Shrinking Pants! I know that we’ve all hit the Diet Wall, namely that weight that you can’t seem to break past no matter how hard you try.

It’s frustrating to be stuck there. Right now I’ve been stuck at this weight for about two months and although my pants are fitting a little loser and I’m feeling good, well . . . Frustrated.

I’m sure you’ve all had similar feelings and what we all ask ourselves is, “WHY?” What are you doing that’s resulted in the Diet Wall?

Well, it could be combination of lots of things and here’s some things for you to think about.

1. Are you eating enough? Yes, you read it right. Eating enough. In their haste to lose weight quickly, many people go on what are termed “starvation diets” where they severely restrict their calorie intake. So not good for a variety of reasons, including the damage to your health. In addition, going on such restricted diets sends a message to your brain that you are in a starvation mode and so your brain will slow your metabolism. So, make sure you’re eating a reasonable amount of calories and make those calories count by making them nutritious calories.

2. Are you doing the same ol’ same ol’ exercise routine? Imagine only eating cheese sandwiches every day for lunch (although I know someone who did this for nearly a decade). You’d get bored, right? Well, your body may be bored if you do the same exercise routine every day, not to mention that like any repetitive activity, you could be stressing out certain parts of your body. I had a recent experience where I developed some hip pain. I’d been religiously doing the elliptical trainer almost every day. How did I get the pain to stop? I started alternating between a stationary bike, walking on the treadmill and the elliptical trainer.

Also, maybe you’re exercising too much or including too many aerobic activities. Hubby got me a personal trainer for a few sessions to help with my getting healthier and the personal trainer suggested not doing more than 20 to 30 minutes of aerobics a day as anything more than that will actually slow down fat loss. His suggestion was to combine aerobics with weight training and that suggestion is one I’ve seen over and over again from various sources. The weight training helps build muscle and muscles are leaner and burn more calories. However, muscle weighs more which could mean that you won’t see a drop in weight, but you will be thinner and stronger.

3. Are you eating the right things? My friend Carole Carson, author of FROM FAT TO FIT, has often mentioned that the “right diet” is the diet that is right for you. I hear people talking all the time about “the lose the belly fat” diet or one where you only eat citrus for days. Yikes! Like everything else, moderation is the key and also, finding out what works best for you. Some people do well eating carbs and for people who are exercising a lot, carbs are an essential part of their diet to keep their bodies fueled. Other people do better with more protein in their diet. What’s right? Well, for starters, check with your doctor and discuss your medical needs with him before starting. Once you get started, listen to your body to determine what works best. I know that I’ve discovered that cutting back on carbs helps me lose weight and that’s one of the things I’ve been bad about — eating more carbs lately. So I’m going to try and watch that for the next week or so. If you do eat carbs, make them multi-grain carbs which are great for your body.

4. Treat yourself every now and then. Yep, you can treat yourself every now and then and that’s good. Why? You don’t feel so deprived and are therefore more inclined to stick to your new food lifestyle. What’s a good treat? For me, I’ve turned to those 100 calorie packs and dark chocolate. Why else is a treat good? A boost in calories may be what you need to get yourself going again. Even Bob mentioned that on The Biggest Loser recently.

5. Make sure you’re drinking enough water! This is a tough one for me since I hate plain old water. I’m a diet soda girl which isn’t all that good either, so I’ve cut back to two sodas a day. But seriously, water is essentially important, especially if you’re dieting. Why? Well, our bodies are an amazing collection of sensors and much like the brain knows when to slow the metabolism when you’re starving, your liver is the filter for all the toxins in your body and when they build up, it may slow down certain functions to avoid creating more toxins. How do you keep your liver working? Well, water is important for helping to flush the toxins from your system. Can you drink too much water? Yep, you can, so again, moderation is key.

So, I hope today’s Tuesday Tip gave you some things to think about based on my personal experience with many many years of battling the bulge. Be sure to check things out with your doctor or health professional. Make sure to stay safe and be reasonable! The idea of losing weight is to be healthier and being healthy is the most important thing to keep in mind.

Copyright 2008 Caridad Pineiro Scordato www.caridad.com