Flint

When I was in my early twenties, I lived in an apartment with my boy-cousin D. On the night of my twenty fourth birthday, I walked into my bedroom and was greeted by the silhouette of a man who was standing beside my bed. Scared the crap out of me. I flipped on the light and saw a full size, grey mannequin wearing silk boxers, a bow tie and a sign that said, "For your birthday I got you a man." Best gift EVER.

We named him Flint. And we loved him. He was placed in beds and showers and all manner of startling and fall-down-laughing positions and places. He became a member of our family - passed around among our cousins, attending birthday parties... Somewhere along the way, as we both got married and did the grad-school / baby thing, Flint got stored in my uncle's barn, then discarded and was never seen again. The grieving has been enormous.

Then, last Christmas, I opened a gift from my children and literally fell on the floor in greater fits of delight than I have known in a long time.

Sweet manna from heaven, Flint - the romance novel! They found it at the dollar store, wrapped it and buried it under the tree. My Flint is back! Again, best gift EVER.

So, of course, I had to get one for D. I sent it to him for his birthday and he actually read it, forwarding me quotes that sent me snorting through the roof - especially hysterical because he is as goodly and faithful Mormon as you get. Even with that he and I are freakishly alike. In Mormonland we are kind of the angel / devil version of one another. (In Everyone-elseland there is actually nothing wrong with me.)

So now I'm rethinking the whole porn thing. Romance novels are totally porn but without the bad acting, directing, lighting, set dressing... Romance novels put the porn back in our brains and imaginations - which is, perhaps, where it ought to stay. Seriously, how can you go wrong with an opening paragraph like this: "He was a tall man and very good-looking in a rough kind of way. He wore a mustache, his hair was black, and his eyes were a dark grey. His shoulders were wide and his hips lean. He carried with him a air of readiness for trouble. His hard-bitten looks appealed to women. Although Flint Mahone had been carousing for two days and one night when he weaved his way to the bat-wing doors of the Trail's End Saloon, there was the grace of a cat about him..."

I've already started casting - Gerard Butler has graciously agreed to star. And, just maybe, if I could force myself to take the time to read something just for the fun of it (which, remember, is the very best reason to do anything) coupled with the candlelit enjoyment of baked goods, I might actually make it through the winter.

I'll let you know...