An Eclectic Author: Love Under Two Navy Seals

Showing posts with label Love Under Two Navy Seals. Show all posts

Wednesday's Words, by Morgan Asbury

Life has returned to normal in the Ashbury household. Well, as normal as we ever get, at any rate. My beloved is back at work, the cat has forgiven me for leaving her with my daughter, the evil diet-meister, and the dog is once more content in the daily presence of his deity, the daddy of the house.

This week, I have a few more days to myself before routine returns full force with my grandchildren sleeping over a few times a week, and my getting them up and ready for school in the morning.

They're good kids, and not difficult to manage at all. They seem, for the most part, a lot more amenable than my own children ever were. For the record, I think their mother—our `second daughter' who was our late son's former fiancée—has done an excellent job in raising them.

As I reported to you at the beginning of the year, I never make New Year's resolutions, per se. I do, however, constantly seek to "do a better job" of everything in my life. And nowhere is that a more pressing need than in the area of time management.

I have to try and learn how to make better use of my time. But the older I get, the faster time seems to go. I try, I really do, but more often than not I'm left at the end of the day wondering if I'd been abducted by aliens, who then went ahead and sucked two or three hours of precious time out of my schedule, and my conscious mind.

I think in many ways, I defy definition. In some areas and about some things I am so anal that my family is left shaking their heads in my wake. In case you ever wondered, let me set the record straight right here and now. Yes, there really is only one way to: fold towels, put away clothing, make the bed, set the table, make out a grocery list, prepare juice from frozen concentrate, and vacuum the living room carpet.
But about other things? Holy chaos, Batman, you should see my office! You'd think I had never heard of the word, `organization'. I have all manner of pieces of whatever under my monitor, around my keyboard, and beside and on top of my printer. My desk drawers would give pause to the most dedicated tidier, and my shoes and slippers can be found all over the darned house.

One of the areas where I am very `sanguine' is in my (nearly non-existent) time management skills. It's an effort for me to stay on track each day, to keep my mind focused on what I want to accomplish, because at times I can be so very easily distracted.

I know that I'd be better served if I got myself one of those nifty little word processor machines my good friend Lara Santiago has. That way, I could write without easy access to the Internet, and all those wonderful and fun time-sucking ways of being distracted.

Alas, I'm weak.

I know the secret for me lies in my own ability to employ some good, old fashioned self-discipline. And as each day dawns, I fully intend to do just that.

Some days, I do a pretty good job of it, too.

And then we have the other five days of the week.

Just today, as I was composing this essay, I had a bizarre thought. Do you suppose I could be looking at this situation all wrong? Could it be that this fluctuating, nose-to-the-grindstone one day and devil-may-care frittering away of minutes the next might actually, when the two are melded together, simply be my process? We all know that each writer's process is unique unto them. Could that possibly be it?

Sigh. No, I didn't really think so, either. I guess I'm just going to have to try harder.
Love,

Morgan

The only dream I've ever had was to be a published author. It was a dream formed in childhood, and held on to through the business of growing up. Life intruded, as life does, and my dream was put on hold. But now, through hard work, faith, and luck dream has evolved into reality.

Romance is a wonderful genre that accommodates every other. Comedy, mystery, paranormal, suspense, or science fiction, romance embraces them all. Erotic romance gives all of that, and so much more.

For readers who want all the best traditional romance has to offer – great characters, compelling stories and a happy ending – and who crave that extra bit of heat – I invite you to read one of my novels and let me know what you think!

Love Under Two Navy Seals

by Cara Covington

Available from Bookstrand

Julia Benedict fled New York City for her home of Lusty, Texas, after one unforgettable night making love under two navy SEALs. She’s fallen for them, hard. But Dev and Drew are the wrong type of men! They’re more Alpha than all the men of her family combined, and if there’s one thing Julia doesn’t want, it’s a pair of husbands who will boss her around just as her brothers have always done.

As Dev and Drew set out to court her, Julia begins to understand there’s a world of difference between bossy brothers and strong, caring lovers. But a case of mistaken identity finds Julia kidnapped. Her lovers must find her before she’s turned over to Miguel Ramos.

With Julia back home safely, the SEALs know their enemy will strike again. But as the men of Lusty gather to entrap the villain, it is the women who take the biggest stand—and the biggest risk.

Wednesday's Words, by Morgan Asbury

When we left for our vacation on the 6th of February it almost seemed as if winter hadn't arrived here yet. There was no snow on the ground, and the temperatures were fairly mild—almost consistently above freezing.

Nature took care of that little oversight while we were away. Though the snow wasn't deep when we got home, it was everywhere, and the land does indeed at last look like Southern Ontario in February.

We had a wonderful time on our vacation. We met more people – both fellow tourists, and locals – than we have on any vacation in a long time. It was amazing being back in Port Lucaya after nearly 20 years. The marina and a fountain were actually the only places we recognized. What had in our memory been a quaint assemblage of a few shops, and a large outdoor tiki bar overlooking a marina has turned into a thriving marketplace, where local craftsmen and women offered everything from clothing to jewelry to wood carvings.

Mr. Ashbury and I did indeed contribute, albeit modestly, to the local economy.

We took part in two excursions, as well. We participated in something called "Bonfire on the Beach" an evening of entertainment and music, food and drink provided by one of the local tour companies. And we enjoyed a two hour program put on by Unexso, which stands for Underwater Explorer's Society. In other words, we had a "Dolphin Encounter".

Mr. Ashbury was the one who got into the tank with the beautiful mammal, and had the opportunity to pet him. He even had his picture taken getting kissed by the dolphin. I elected to stay out of the drink and take pictures...but of course, I didn't stay dry, as the dolphin executed a couple of well-learned manoeuvres guaranteed to get everyone there sopping wet.

Tourism is the main industry in The Bahamas, so you can imagine that the downturn in the global economy has been devastating for these people. And yet, wherever we went, we were greeted with smiles, and kindness, and open-hearted welcome.

The pool was too chilly to swim in, as was the ocean—although Mr. Ashbury didn't let that stop him from having a dip into the briny almost every day. Of course we didn't let the weather disrupt our vacation. You can't control if it's sunny, or rainy, or suddenly unseasonably cool. You can only control your reaction to it all. It was our vacation, after all, and up to us to make of it what we would.

There were a couple of cabanas poolside, and here I would sit, several hours at a time, either reading or writing while the ocean breeze refreshed me, and the sight of pool, palm trees, and ocean rejuvenated me. Of course I wrote in this paradise, because to me, that is one of the purest pleasures in my life. How amazing it was to do so in such beautiful surroundings.

Mr. Ashbury and I both consider ourselves very blessed to enjoy vacations away from home as often as we do.

As much as I look forward to going someplace where I'm free from the everyday demands and stresses of life, I'm just as happy to come home. Having been born under the sign of Cancer, I really am a homebody, and never truly so happy as when I am in my own cave, doing my own thing—be it taking care of my family, reading a good book, or crafting a good story.

I'm pleased to announce two career milestones. My 25th book comes out on Friday! And, I have had my web site professionally re-designed. I'm so pleased with it I have a contest on the news page with a $30 prize. If you get a moment, please stop by and check it out. Wednesday's Word's blog.
Love,

Morgan

Love Under Two Navy Seals

by Cara Covington

Available from Bookstrand

With Julia back home safely, the SEALs know their enemy will strike again. But as the men of Lusty gather to entrap the villain, it is the women who take the biggest stand—and the biggest risk.

Wednesday's Words, by Morgan Ashbury

The sound of the surf and the wonderful sensations of the salt breeze on my face, and my laptop under my fingertips: this is vacation at its best, at least to me.

We arrived at the resort in Freeport, in The Bahamas early Monday evening, just at dusk. I can report that our "ocean view" room really affords us a totally awesome, full-on ocean view. We're on the fifth floor, and from our balcony we can see the grounds of the resort, including some of the pools, and the ocean—big, blue, and magnificent.

I've found an unoccupied cabana (alas, no Cabana boys in attendance) and I'm intending to test how long the battery on my laptop will work. I'm only a few feet from one of the pools—the one that has the pool bar in it. This pool also has a special feature that makes it look as if it bleeds into the ocean.

I haven't dipped my toes in the pool yet. That's because I'm watching these big burly types standing on the stairs, water only up to to their knees, just standing there, chatting together, acting as if the pool isn't far and away too cold for their tastes.

I'll get into it by and by. At this moment, however, having deposited me safely where I can write, my beloved has taken himself to the beach, not even 100 feet from where I sit. He loves the ocean. He'll swim every day, no matter the weather, just because he can.

Our kids think that's funny as hell because in years past, their dad never liked to swim and so never went into the water. His stated reason? Because the water was wet.

Yesterday morning as we were having our first coffee of the day on our balcony, I thought of my parents. In their day (let's say the early 1960s), this kind of travel was something only the very rich were able to afford, and this resort something they might only have ever seen on the silver screen.

Sometimes, especially lately with the downturn in the economy that we've all experienced, it's easy to forget that we as a society have come a long way in the last fifty years.

But we have, and in no area more dramatically, I believe, than in the realm of vacations and vacation travel.

What used to be considered a special privilege that you would only allow yourself once every two or three years, is now an annual, or even semi-annual entitlement. What used to cost thousands of dollars now costs but hundreds. And while that is still a lot of money, a Caribbean vacation is not out of reach, really, for anyone who wants one badly enough and is willing to save up for it.

In the mean time, while I'm not certain when I'll venture into the too-cold for Morgan pool, the hot tub seats about 12 and is very, very fine.

As for Mr. Ashbury, he has returned from the ocean, and the pool, and has noted that one of the hammocks—the one fairly close to where we're sitting, in fact—is unoccupied. He's never actually tried one out before, though he has heard tales from others who have and swear by them. The two gentlemen who come immediately to mind in this instance are our oldest son, and Mr. Wildes, beloved husband of my dear friend, Emma Wildes.

David gave it a good try Tuesday afternoon, and has judged it a good place to spend some time. He needs but a towel under him and a book in his hand, he said and he will be content.

Apparently, we're not that far apart on our individual interpretation of the word, `paradise'.

If you'd like a peek at our morning view, check out my Wednesday's Word's blog.
Love,

Morgan

Love Under Two Navy Seals

by Cara Covington

Available from Bookstrand

With Julia back home safely, the SEALs know their enemy will strike again. But as the men of Lusty gather to entrap the villain, it is the women who take the biggest stand—and the biggest risk.

Wednesday's Words, by Morgan Ashbury

This time next week, the Ashburys will once more be on vacation. It would seem that this year, we will definitely earn the moniker, "traveling fools". The next few trips will be related to my career—we plan to attend the RT convention in Chicago in April, the RWA convention in Anaheim in July, and the first ever Siren-Bookstrand conference taking place in Dallas, Texas, in August. This trip, however, is just for us.

Mr. Ashbury has wanted to travel to a warm clime this time of year for the past several years, and so we are going to The Bahamas for a week.

I consider myself very lucky to do the traveling I do, even though there's a huge part of me that would just as soon stay home. I am a homebody at heart, and never so happy as when I have my domain all to myself.

These last few weeks have seen a flurry of activity on our part, trying to decide where to go. The only criterion was that the destination had to be warm enough to swim.

Unfortunately and very sadly, one major "warm locale" that a lot of Canadians visit annually was absolutely off the table as far as we were concerned, and that place was Mexico.

One needs only to have paid attention to international news over the last few years to hear about the dozens of Canadians who've been victims of violence in that country—112 Canadians dead in the last 5 years according to the (Canadian) federal Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade.

Perhaps 112 out of the million or so who have visited isn't that high a number, statistically, but it's high enough for us. My heart breaks for those whose loved ones have come to grief; and it's a shame for that historically colourful country, because Mexico and her people deserve better than to be earning the kind of reputation that they have, lately. I know many Canadians still consider Mexico a fine spot to vacation and are going there, regardless of recent events.

The Ashburys aren't willing to take that chance.

So it's off to the Bahamas, to swim, and to sun (a little) and just basically decompress. I'll be taking my laptop, of course. I'd go nuts if I couldn't write, because writing isn't so much my job as it's my passion. Being an author isn't what I do, it's who I am.

Mr. Ashbury likes to walk around and explore. Being a history buff (and convinced he was a pirate in a previous life), there's always plenty to grab his attention. With his exploring and my writing, we're always ensured of a good combination of together time and alone time that makes our vacations the best they can be.

I've been assured that I'll be able to rent a mobility scooter once I'm there, so I'm looking forward to a bit of exploration, myself. And while I don't like to shop at home, I love looking at all the souvenirs and such these places have for sale. I've already gotten `gift requests' from a couple of my grandchildren.

The winter in our neck of the woods so far has been rather placid. We did receive an unexpected dumping of a few inches of snow on Sunday afternoon—snow that is gone now. Although it doesn't take much in the way of cold and wet to attack my arthritis, Mr. Ashbury hasn't even had the opportunity to haul out his snow blower yet. Sunday he just used the shovel, and called it done.

I told him not to worry; he likely would get the opportunity to pull out that machine before spring arrives. After all, this is Canada, and winter always leaves its mark.

In the Bahamas, we'll be staying at a hotel that is very close to a beach, with high-speed Internet available. So I'll be able to post my essay on schedule and keep in touch with my family and friends.

Love,

Morgan

Love Under Two Navy Seals

by Cara Covington

Available from Bookstrand

With Julia back home safely, the SEALs know their enemy will strike again. But as the men of Lusty gather to entrap the villain, it is the women who take the biggest stand—and the biggest risk.

Wednesday's Words, by Morgan Ashbury

In all likelihood, my perspective, on this topic, is skewed.

My father died when I was 8 and a half years old. That one traumatic event impacted my life as a child and continues to do so to this very day. I can tell you, quite honestly, that from the moment my father passed away, I lived in terror that my mother would die, too.

Thirteen years later, she did, and I was orphaned at the tender age of 21.

Losing my parents when I was young, therefore, has given me a bias on the subject that's been on my mind these last few days. That subject is how we, as a society, treat our elderly.

I've seen a few cases first hand of people traversing a path I never had the opportunity to follow; that of adults having to deal with their elderly parents.

I'm not sure I understand why one would "handle" their parents by sticking them in a "seniors' care facility".

Yes, I know that sometimes there really is no choice. If our loved one needs more care, especially medical care, than we're capable of giving, for example, then I can understand the need for using this alternative. But in my mind, and in my heart—unless the senior in question truly wants to go and live in such a place—this should be a last resort.

I've known of a few families who have "sent mom to the home". The parent was old, and moved slowly, but was not really sick, and not really in need of constant medical supervision. Yet plop, plop, there went the poor grannies dropped off to live in a small room, surrounded by other small rooms, to be tended to by strangers for the rest of their lives.

Is this another case of Morgan being overly naive again? Maybe it is easy for me to talk, as I'll never have to back up my words with actions. But, don't we owe our parents every bit of care and attention we can give them? Don't we owe them some of ourselves?

See, I can't decide if the trend—taking your aging parent to a facility for them to live out what's left of their lives—is motivated by laziness, carelessness, or some immature desire for payback. I'm just a bit cynical that this action is taken to be in the very best interest of the elderly person in question.

I've seen firsthand the heartbreak that comes to a person whose children more or less abandon them to live among strangers.

How can anyone do that to their mother? This is the same woman who carried them in her womb for nine months; who gave birth in a fog of pain, eschewing drugs in case those drugs brought harm to the baby.

Mothers and fathers are very special, and very precious. You only ever really have one of each in your life.

There are cases when there are few alternatives. In this age of two-career households, it might be a challenge leaving an elderly person alone all day. I get that. Of course there are agencies who specialize in home visits, people who for a very reasonable fee will come by as often as you need them to, to see to it all is well with granny.

I have no doubt that it could be a challenge incorporating an elderly parent into your household. It would require patience and care and maybe a little juggling. I also bet it would be quite a bit of work, having an extra person to see to. It certainly wouldn't meet anyone's definition of easy.

Just as, I imagine, it was some work, and challenge, and frustrating for that parent to have taken care of you.

I'm sad that as a society, and in this area, we allow ourselves the opportunity to choose between doing what is right and doing what is expedient.

Because I am a great believer in the law of sewing and reaping, I would like to add this caution. As you deal with your elderly parents, your children are watching and taking notes.

Love,

Morgan

Love Under Two Navy Seals

by Cara Covington

Available from Bookstrand

With Julia back home safely, the SEALs know their enemy will strike again. But as the men of Lusty gather to entrap the villain, it is the women who take the biggest stand—and the biggest risk.

Wednesday's Words, by Morgan Ashbury

It's amazing how quickly life returns to normal, isn't it? Everyone's back at work or school now, most of the television series have returned to new episodes, and politics is the word of the day on the Sunday morning talking heads.

I have to confess I don't follow American politics as closely as I used to. Heck, I don't follow Canadian politics, either. Maybe my inner curmudgeon is not only no longer inner but aggressively outspoken. It just seems to me that everyone can talk the talk, but no one can walk the walk.

I'd much rather read a book—or write one. Or spend time with the newest members of my family.

I don't know if I mentioned it, but my daughter got herself a new pet a few months ago—not another cat, surprisingly, but a dog.

Well, it's advertised as being a dog, but I call it a puppy-cat. It's a Chihuahua, and her name is Bella.

She got the puppy when it was just 9 weeks old. Because of the breed, and because we live in Ontario, Canada, of course the dog needs to have a wardrobe.

She has sweaters, and coats. My daughter tried to get it to wear little booties, but frankly, that just wasn't happening. In October, Bella had a Halloween costume. Yes, she went around dressed up to look like a green caterpillar.

My daughter is devoted to this animal, and the dog adores her right back. That's probably the major difference between the two major species of domestic pets.

Dogs—even ones who come disguised as puppy cats—tend to be more affectionate toward and more dependent upon humans than cats are. I've always said the major difference is that dogs have masters, while cats have staff.

One good thing about my daughter having a puppy is, she won't let it wander free the way the cats have, so I won't soon get a new boarder here. The down side of that is, there have been a few times over the last couple of months when my husband and I have been asked to "puppy sit".

When she asks, I always tell her to ask her father. My position is logical. I was the one who did all the child care and housekeeping while holding an outside job. Any grandchild entertaining—be it a human, feline or canine grandchild—is up to him.

He sometimes grumbles, but then I look and see he has the puppy-cat on his lap, sound asleep.

The only problem my daughter had with the new family member is that her puppy tended to demand all of her attention—very much like a little child. On her days off, she found it difficult to get anything done as Bella wanted to play all the time.

I thought the solution to this would come with time and patience and training. My daughter, however, had another idea. She decided that what the puppy really needed was a baby sister.

If Bella, by virtue of her size is a puppy-cat, then Ivy, the new Chihuahua most definitely qualifies as a puppy-rat. Don't worry, my daughter takes very good care of them both, and Bella seems delighted to have a baby sister. Jenny laughs, of course, at the names I have given the two canines.

As you might imagine, when it comes to my daughter, the apple didn't fall far from the tree. I have been given a new title in the family, too.

Apparently, I am now Grandma-puppy.

For anyone who's interested, I've posted a picture of Bella the puppy-cat on my blog. The address is below.

Love,

Morgan

Love Under Two Navy Seals

by Cara Covington

Available from Bookstrand

With Julia back home safely, the SEALs know their enemy will strike again. But as the men of Lusty gather to entrap the villain, it is the women who take the biggest stand—and the biggest risk.