So, there I was, three days ago: I had stocked up on delicious food, equally delicious brownies and a good book - you know, just to get warmed up before I began editing the sequel to A Russian Bear (yep. The same one I've been talking about for ages now). I was deep into Kate Sherwood's latest Dark Horse novel when I began noticing that it was really cold in my apartment. So cold that I was shivering, in fact. Well, it was a good book, so I kept on reading, and it wasn't until I had finished that I realized that I was sick as a dog. As in "somebody please take me out of my misery"-sick. Food poisoning, in other words. It turned out that the delicious, fancy food really was fancy - in a bacteriologically not so good way.
So, now I'm spending my precious days off being sick and not editing my book. And yes, I'm feeling really, really sorry for myself. As a matter of fact so sorry that I'm comfort-buying books. I need it, you see. For your information, Kate Sherwood as well as Vaugh R. Demont are really good reads (they actually kept me sitting up in bed - gasp!). Now I'll begin Alexandr Voinov's Dark Soul. I've read his Scorpion and loved it.
So, if you need comfort reads, those are good choices. And by the way, you should never begin three paragraphs in a row with a "so". Just sayin'. But I'm sick, so I'm allowed to.
I read and I write - everything from corporate to kink. My naughty fictional friends are always there to make my life interesting. And pester me, of course. Pesky creatures.