Thank you, Rosanna, for giving me this opportunity to introduce myself. I’m a pretty normal person. I don’t have weird quirks or obsessions. I call myself...well-rounded. I have a full-time job, three active kids, a busy husband, amazing friends, a writing career, a cake decorating hobby-sometimes-business, an over-flowing library of books, and love, love, love to hostess any and all events, parties, holidays, get-togethers...you name it. I take on a lot, but I like to stay busy. Addicted? No. Busy? Yes.
To me, an addiction is one thing you simply can't live without. I don't...oh, wait. Well, chocolate doesn't count, right? It's not like I HAVE to have it, but it is nice to have a delectable morsel (chunk) after a meal. And if there isn't any chocolate in the house (like I would ever allow that to happen) I have been known to break out the flour and sugar and lemon and whip up some other satisfying dessert. (Lemon squares anyone? Butterscotch oatmeal cookies will suffice too). So, see? I'm not a chocolate addict.
And reading. No, I'm not addicted. Just because I hide my paperback, Kindle, iPad or iPhone (yeah, I read on that, too) when my husband comes in the house and pretend like I'm straightening the couch cushions doesn't mean I have a reading problem. Reading over 150 books last year means I'm well read, not addicted.
Facebook? No, I can totally go a day or two without creeping, I mean reading posts and posting pictures. Instead I'll cruise through Twitter or TSU, search for hotties on Pinterest, or Google my favorite authors and read their blogs. Nope. No technology addictions either.
And don’t event think about classifying my shoe collection as an addiction. Just because I have over thirty pairs of shoes in varying color, heel height and style for each season and occasion (yeah, if you do the math that may add up to a bit), just because when building our home fifteen years ago we designed my—I mean our—walk-in closet around my shoes doesn’t mean it’s a problem. I mean, seriously. Don’t most stores have a sign in their window that says, “No shoes. No shirt. No service”? Which means I need to have an array of clothing as well. See? Perfectly normal.
So I guess it depends on your definition of addiction. The word is so harsh. It's not like I'd go bat a$$ crazy if I was stranded on a deserted island and didn't have shoes. Barefoot in the sand is bliss. And no chocolate or sweets, or books to read, or social media? Nope. I'd be perfectly...oh son of a nutcracker!
Know of a good therapist?
I’d love to connect with you on Facebook and share my other not-so addictions. http://facebook.com/Mariannericeauthor
I guess everyone has their issues, especially the characters in my debut novel, False Start.
Here’s a snippet of page one:
“We need to talk.”
Startled by the deep growl, Meg Fulton looked up to the towering stack of testosterone filling her office doorway and cursed the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach.
She straightened her posture, ran her hand through her thick hair in an attempt to put all the strays back in place, and then reached for the lapels of the suit coat that wasn’t there. She felt vulnerable in her silk tank top and wished she had an extra layer to shield her from the menacing daggers targeted at her. Putting on the jacket would only make a spectacle of herself. The thin tank would have to do.
“Sure. Have a seat.” She crossed her legs and attempted to smile. Inwardly, Meg groaned. Connor McKay. She’d noticed him on the football field coaching his athletes and had not looked forward to the expected confrontation.
He remained in the doorway, making no move toward the empty seats across from her desk. His blond hair was short, barely longer than the scruff on his face, and as she looked up she saw his eyes—a fierce, fiery blue filled with accusation and something that ranged between confusion and lust.
Download your copy of False Start today.
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