What’s the last thing you wish you could’ve told your boss and not gotten fired for it? U.S. workers spend more than 13 years working over a 50-year career—about a quarter of their time. People could be so much happier if they could be honest with their employers without consequences.

Characters in novels often have work issues as a big source of conflict. Why? Because people can relate.

Gillian, the heroin in my romantic suspense, Becker Circle, could’ve used a few frank conversations with her accounting firm boss at her first job out of college. Her boss habitually dumped busy work on Gillian because she was single and had time to work at night. What? She also was one of those bosses who jumped all over anyone who arrived at work or from lunch five minutes late. Worst though, she swept a client’s obvious accounting dishonesty under the rug when Gillian found it during an audit, and then pulled her off the project.

The Japanese have it right. Their culture includes a practice called “nomminication” that encourages honesty in the workplace—both ways. It’s a combination of “nomu” or drink and “communication”. Bosses periodically host their employees for an evening out. When enjoying cocktails in this safe environment, employees can share whatever they’d like to say to their boss. Afterwards, employers don’t allow pay cuts or demotions or job transfers as retaliation.

As a marketing consultant who’s spent way too much time working, the concept intrigues me. I’m spoiled working for myself and thankful my job doesn’t force me to deal with awful bosses. I have fired clients. When I still had bosses, one kept piling more work on me because I wasn’t married or a mom and “didn’t have anything else to do,” she said. I told her it was too much. At raise time, she gave me this tiny, insulting salary increase. I walked out of her office and transferred to a more senior position working with a professional leader soon after, and never looked back.

The U.S. unemployment rate is the lowest it’s been in 49 years. Jobs should be fulfilling, not a sentence. Explore other opportunities inside and outside your company. If a reasonable conversation with your boss doesn’t work—with or without nomminication—the grass may indeed be greener, as the saying goes. It definitely worked for Gillian. And in the meantime, read a good novel with a kickass heroine who says everything you’ve wanted to say to your boss.

Everyone has a boss story worth repeating. Share yours!

Here’s a scene from Becker Circle where Gillian squares off with her unfair boss.

Becker Circle

EXCERPT

Just as the next person is halfway through her first sentence, I interrupt. “One more thing. I saw something weird in their books—like money’s disappearing.”

“What are you saying, Gillian?” Kim sits forward in her chair. “Are you implying embezzlement?”

“Well, yes. I don’t have the full trail together yet, but it looks suspicious.”

“We must be absolutely certain before making a claim like that.” She walks to the window and watches the cars on the freeway zip by. “Do you realize how serious this could be?” she turns and spits back.

I know she’ll be pissed at me for saying this, but I do anyway. “With all due respect, it sounds like you’re upset with me.” The entire table of my accountant coworkers inhales a collective breath and holds it waiting for Kim’s response. She stands at the window with her arms folded. Staring. “Isn’t this why we do audits?”

“I know, Gillian, you’re doing your job.” Kim turns back to the table. “But someone with more experience needs to handle this one.” She pauses and scans the faces around the conference table. Everyone’s looking somewhere else but at her. “Get with Bryan this afternoon. He’ll take it from here.”

Buy links: Amazon US, Amazon UK, Smashwords, Apple Books, Kobo, B&N Nook

About the Author

Addison Brae lives in Dallas, Texas on the edge of downtown. She has been writing since childhood and continues today as an independent marketing consultant. She addicted to reading and enjoys jogging in her neighborhood park, sipping red wine, traveling the world, collecting interesting cocktail recipes, binge-watching TV series, vintage clothing, and hanging out with her artistic other half and their neurotic cat Lucy.

Connect with Addison Brae on her website, Tirgearr Publishing, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, BookBub, Goodreads, or YouTube.

UPDATE: The winner is…Christine LaCombe!
Thanks to everyone who played!
*~*~*

Y’all remember this story, right? Sexy SEAL in New Orleans, there to figure out what he wants to do with the rest of his life…

Well, I introduced his brother and cousin and asked readers to let me know if they wanted a series based on the family/friends of Thibault Cyr. They do. 🙂 Now I need to come up with a series name. I like The Big Easy, but someone already has The Boys of the Big Easy and Witches of the Big Easy.

Contest

Do y’all have any ideas of how to play on “The Big Easy” for my series name? Or to play on the city’s name?

Play with it. Have fun. Your ideas don’t have to be good ones to be eligible to win the prize of a $5 Amazon gift card!

For the first few years of my life, I lived in tropical places. I never saw snow except in movies and freezing to me was sixty-five degrees. I loved nothing more than swimming, chasing lightening bugs and having the summer sun warm my skin that was sticky from melted ice cream and sweat.

So, it would be natural to assume that summer is my favorite season. But I love fall. I love the way the air cools and has a crisp edge to it. I love to see the leaves change from green to red, yellow then fall to the ground. I love to walk through the fallen leaves and hear the crunch under my feet. And there is nothing better than to bundle up in cozy sweaters that are more like a cocoon than a piece of clothing,

My love for autumn comes from more from the season and its trappings, it’s something about fall that relates to me deep in my soul. A part is the fact that I’m a late bloomer. I had always wanted to write but was to scared to go after it. When I applied to college, I marked my perspective major as creative writing in all but one university. That was the one that I went to—Syracuse University.

But after all that I was like an aster and my writing career bloomed in my early thirties. Another reason fall is my season is because of the change. When the world goes from ninety degrees to sixty-eight, you feel it. It’s shows in all the world around you, in every part of nature. Another part, I love is cuddling under a blanket and reading a book. I like being alone. I’m an introvert. And this season is for me.

Well, all but pumpkin spice. I hate pumpkins.

What season is your favorite season?  And what do you love about it?

The Chieftain’s Secret

On a windswept Scottish Isle…

Many objects wash up on the shores of the rugged Isle of Mull. The Laird of Lochbuie never expected a pregnant wife to be included in that. Honorable Niall MacLean was wed to his childhood love when she died in childbirth. Now a widower, he struggles to get beyond his grief. Then a dear friend, Ermina Bruce pleaded for his help. His protective instinct came alive and he handfasted with Ermina to save her from an unsuitable marriage and one drunken night has led to forever after and a repeat of his past heartbreak. 

The bonds of friendship…

Noble Ermina Bruce has loved Niall MacLean since he first fostered in her uncle’s home. But he loved another so she settled for the deep bonds of friendship. When her family arranged a marriage she didn’t want she knew Niall could save her from that miserable fate.

One night of passion…

That one night in Niall’s arms led to her pregnancy. Ermina has not told Niall of their secret baby. But his reaction isn’t her greatest fear. Her fear is even greater than the brave laird’s wrath. Every woman in her family has died in childbirth and all know the same fate awaits her. Once again, Ermina knows Niall is the only one who can save her. And if he fails, her last days shall be with the man she has loved since childhood.

Will love have a chance to come alive?

Purchase link: https://www.amazon.com/Chieftains-Secret-Medieval-Scottish-Romance-ebook/dp/B07SD9DKYJ/

Excerpt:

Prologue

The church preached the Lord had a plan for all living creatures. Ermina Bruce wondered about her own divine design. Naturally, marriage, children, and a household of her own were included in the life plan. For Ermina, she would have liked a hint of what else awaited since her life had taken a surprising turn.

“Don’t fall into the fire.”

A scream squeaked from her as she spun around and nearly toppled into the hearth. Niall snatched her back and against his hard chest. She landed with a humph. Her nose and cheek smashed against him. She drew a breath into her empty chest along with the manly scent mixed with wine, leather, and musk. She planted her hands flat on his chest and straightened.

“Niall, you frightened me”—she shoved her palm hard against his chest, not that he wavered from her strike—“Sneaking in here without making nary a sound.”

He shrugged. “The skills of a Highlander.”Niall swayed on his feet.

Ermina grabbed him by his forearm to steady him. “The skill is made more impressive since you are drunk.”

“I am celebrating our handfasting.”He lifted his hand. He frowned as he realized his hand was empty. “I seem to have forgotten my cup.”

Ermina turned away from his empty hand hovering in the air as if it were curled about a cup.  He couldn’t see her tears. He would ask her why she cried, and she couldn’t reveal the truth. Worse than her unreasonable emotions for him, she knew his reason for drinking until the world faded to the edges of his awareness. That knowledge never stemmed the roaring need to scream down upon his head. She hated seeing his eyes heavy from drink, his movement sloppy, and hearing his slurred speech.

“There have been enough toasts tonight. From all the warm wishes, if a wedding had occurred we would have had a very blessed lifetime. ”

That sounds wonderful. A lifetime with Niall.

“Your uncle scowled through the ceremony.”His befuddled voice snapped her free from her thoughts. His stance was wide but that failed to stop him from swaying.

She didn’t reach to steady him. Right now, with the dull ache thumping through her, she decided touching him was stupid.

Her uncle, the fourth earl of Annadale, and head of the family, had been snarling and growling since Niall and she informed him of the handfasting. There was no reason for his behavior to change on this day. “Aye, he did raise his cup begrudgingly.”She ambled to the bed and perched on the edge. “At least, we were both screamed upon but our lives were not in too much danger.” She put her feet up.

“I am accustomed to his temper. You were trembling like a new recruit.”Niall joined her and fell back. He threw one arm over his head and rested the other one on the flat of his stomach.

“I rarely witness that side of my uncle.”

“You thawed his plans but he gave in to your wants in the end. At least you will not be teetered to that auld man. I imagine Bruce will have more care in your next match.”

“I pray you are right. I do not wish to be bound to a man who believes a husband should not spare the rod with a wife.”Ermina fell back beside Niall. He peeked out the corner of his eye and stretched out his arm. She scooted over and propped her head on his muscular forearm.

This wasn’t the first instance that Ermina had been this close to Niall. This time, though, felt different. They were handfasted. Not that that knowledge changed anything. That was a falsehood. It changed everything for her. Her yearning for him sharpened.

She could bury her nose in the crook of his neck and breath in his scent. Just one whiff of his singular scent and a rush of warmth and pure happiness filled her. Then the longing came and the knowledge that she would never have his love smothered every ounce of her desire.

He rested his head against hers and let out a wine-scented sigh.

His lips were less than half a finger length from her own. Their breaths mingled. She could kiss him. She could finally feel the texture of his lips and discover if they felt as she had imagined.

That was wrong. They were friends. He had saved her from a marriage to a man she had no desire to be united with. A kiss would ruin their bond. That was one act she refused to allow.

“’Tis the first time we have lain together on a bed.”

“You make it sound sinful.” She hoped she put enough of a sneer into her voice so he couldn’t hear the rush charging through her.

He rolled his head to the side and wiggled his dark brows. “Most sinful.”

His intoxicated gaze flittered over her face and lost the stressed lines that pinched his face. His warm regard changed to one darkening with desire. His gaze slowly traced over the lines of her face then to her mouth where it lingered, tracing the shape. His mouth parted as if he were preparing to kiss her.

She stilled, unwilling to break the bond between them. Not once in her life had she been the focus of his smoldering gaze. She had seen glimpses of it when he spoke of Siobhan. Now, his narrowed eyes centered on her. His desire was meant for her and her alone. She had never been kissed. For Niall to be the first… Her whole body went hot and slowly melted. She went a little dizzy. He would kiss her. She licked her lips in preparation.

He blinked. Niall let out a heavy sigh laced with a groan. She understood its meaning. Siobhan.More than twelve months had passed since his wife’s death. Naturally, she understood the reasons for him losing himself in drink. Niall had loved his Siobhan since their childhood.

When Niall arrived at Annadale to foster at the age of eight, he had already been—as he said handfasted—to her. When he returned to the highlands as a knight, he had wed her. Ermina never met Siobhan, but she had been entertained and jealous of the highland lass as she listened to his countless stories that always centered around Siobhan. With each telling, she had felt the all-encompassing love he possessed for her. Aye, she understood the reasons for his drinking with each raise of his cup, and her heart ached for him.

“If I were to take another wife, I would be pleased to have you.”

He rolled on his side and placed a peck on her cheek. Instead of putting a proper distance between them, he rested his chin upon her shoulder. She leaned her head against the top of his head and listened to his easy breathing.

“I would be pleased to have you for a husband.”She felt that emptiness inside of her that ached to be filled. The sensation that hollowed her whenever she thought of Niall. If she had to name the turmoil within herself, she might have thought it longing. The corner of her eyes began to burn as if tears were forming. She blinked with such rapidness she could have started a storm. There was no reason for them. Niall would not be the man she would spend her life with.

He lifted his head. His nose brushed along her jaw and across her cheek, halting when he buried the tip in her hair. His lips hovered over her ear. His exhales blew across her lobe. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the lulling sensation.

“Ermina, you are a beautiful woman and shall have all the happiness life can give.”He kissed her—a simple peck that sparked goose bumps across her.

He drew back and stared at her. There was softness, nay, tenderness in his eyes. It wasn’t because of the color but the hooded shape that gave him an earnest expression. The hazy gloss dulled the brightness of his dark, burnished eyes.

“This isn’t right but I can’t stop myself. I don’t want to.”He fitted his mouth to hers with the softest of pressure. She should have turned away. Niall did not know what he was doing. She did.

With his top lip, he nudged apart her shocked mouth. The tip of his tongue flicked against her stiff one. She opened to him. Her mouth filled with the taste of wine. The tart flavor jolted her. The hairs on her arms stood as a current race through her.

This was foolish.

’Tis only a kiss…

About the Author

An Air Force brat, Mageela Troche has lived throughout the world then landed in New York City. She wanted to leave the same day she arrived. Yet, with her stubbornness, Mageela learned to like the place and the libraries were the main reason. Since she was a little girl, Mageela wanted to be an author and an actress, however, once in college, she changed her life plan in the pursuit of money. After all, college loans must be repaid.

 With life’s twists and turns, she returned to writing and focused on the romance genre. Mageela Troche’s first break came when she sold a short story to a magazine. She sold two more before the publication of her historical romance novel, The Marriage Alliance.She has gone on to write four more novels and a novella.

 Mageela is currently writing in the cramped corner of her Big Apple apartment. She is the proud owner of a Black-masked lovebird named Boobula. She loves to hear from her readers and can be found online at MageelaTroche.com

Social Media Links
website: https://www.MageelaTroche.com
Facebook: https://www.Facebook.com/AuthorMageelaTroche
Twitter: https://www.Twitter.com/MageelaTroche
Pinterest: https://www.Pinterest.com/MageelaTroche
blog: https://www.matroche.com
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Mageela-Troche/e/B00CHTIRFW/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7054733.Mageela_Troche

UPDATE: This giveaway has ended!

*~*~*

UPDATE: The winner is…Jennifer Beyer!
*~*~*

I’m making the finishing touches on Quincy before I upload the book tomorrow for its release next Tuesday! There’s nothing like waiting until the last minute, right? I can’t wait for you to read the rest of the story about Quincy and his beautician-in-the-bunker—the couple I introduced you to in the short story, “Quincy Down Under“! In the newest Montana Bounty Hunters installment, you’ll see all the characters you’ve loved along the way. We’re nearing the end of the stories in this series. I think I only have one more to write, and if you’ve been reading the stories, you know which wonderful man hasn’t yet found his true love. I’m hoping to have that story ready for you before the end of this year! In the meantime, catch up on the series and get ready enjoy Quincy and Tamara’s great adventure. A warning though, it’s very, very sexy. 🙂

If you haven’t already pre-ordered your copy of Quincy’s story, here’s the link: Quincy.

Enjoy reading an excerpt from another story in the series, Hook. I loved, loved, loved writing his story! He lost his arm in an explosion, and has been having a hard time adjusting to his new “normal”. But then he gets assigned to protect a woman with even bigger problems than his own…

Hook

Former Army Ranger, Dylan “Hook” Hoecker, has a new job along with a new prosthetic arm. Being a bounty hunter is the closest career field he could find as a civilian that gives him the adrenaline rush that is his addiction. So, when his first solo assignment is to keep an eye on a flight risk the boss bonded out of jail, he’s not thrilled. However, he soon discovers a fresh addiction–one mouthy, nerdy redhead, who resists his attempts to keep her out of trouble.

Felicity Gronkowski is grateful for the bone the head of Montana Bounty Hunter threw her. She didn’t have the money to pay for bail, but he has a soft spot for former military, and she bartered to install a new computer system in his satellite office in Bear Lodge. Being on the outside of jail was her first imperative because she has to figure out who framed her for a series of high-end robberies while she worked installing home security systems. However, her bounty-hunting babysitter isn’t giving her any slack. Every time she thinks she’s given him the slip, he’s one step ahead of her. Either she has to find the perfect method of distraction to escape him or she has to enlist his help to clear her name.

Contest

Comment below for a chance to win a copy of one of the MBH books shown below!

Are you all caught up with the bounty hunters?
Here’s what’s available so far (until next Tuesday)!

MONTANA BOUNTY HUNTERS
Authentic Men… Real Adventures…
Reaper: https://amzn.to/2NztLpv
Dagger: https://amzn.to/2zo6Dav
Reaper’s Ride: https://amzn.to/2KKkisI
Cochise: https://amzn.to/2zq4avV
Hook: https://amzn.to/2UrpyYh
Wolf: https://amzn.to/2yUTjr5
Animal: https://amzn.to/2H4Roob
Big Sky Wedding: https://amzn.to/33GprwK

Excerpt from Hook

Dylan “Hook” Hoecker had no problem keeping pace with Dagger and Cochise as they raced along the dark alleyway, following the skip they’d tracked to a gun shop in Libby. Scooter James had made the crew the moment Dagger entered the premise. Perhaps it was Dagger’s burly physique that had tipped him off, or maybe he was just nervous having three intense-looking dudes enter the store, but he’d run for the back exit.

No, Hook’s legs had never been an issue. He ran like the wind, easily leaping over a barrel Scooter dumped on its side, hoping to trip them. Beside him, Dagger cursed, and Hook couldn’t help smiling as the big guy went down. This skip was his. When he reached the end of the alley, Scooter veered left and ran through a stand of motorcycles, tipping over one, which sent the rest slowly falling like dominoes. Bikers sitting at outdoor café tables nearby rose and filled the street, shouting and moving toward their Harleys, forcing Cochise and Hook to push past them.

Cochise went down when one biker stuck out a foot, perhaps angry that their chase had scratched his ride.

Hook waved his prosthetic arm, which, sometimes, had even those who weren’t so tight with the law pausing and giving him a break. He didn’t mind one bit using his disability to give him an advantage. He shouted out a “Thanks, man,” when one biker rolled his bike forward to clear his path.

Now, it was just him following the slap of Scooter’s Adidas on the pavement. Hook paced himself, forcing himself to keep his breathing even so he’d outlast his target. He didn’t use every bit of his strength to close the gap, because he knew he’d need anything extra to take the fucker down once he began to slow.

In his mind, Hook thanked his physical therapist, who’d concentrated on helping him make the adjustment to his new circumstance, learning to use his prosthetic, but who also continued to meet him on the track three or four mornings a week to make sure he worked out the rest of his body to help, not only keep him toned for the work he did, but to keep his dark moods at bay. Raydeen Pickering was a hero in his mind, because she went the extra mile for every man and woman she accepted into her treatment program.

Ahead of him, Scooter ducked into another alley.

“He’s turned again,” he said, knowing the others could hear him through the radio in his earpiece. “Left, into an alley.”

“I’m behind you,” Cochise said. “Don’t let him out of your sight.”

“I’m cutting through another alley. Will try to get to the street before he does,” Dagger said in his ear.

Hook went left and entered an alley lit by a single golden bulb at the back door of a restaurant. He ran past rank-smelling trash bins and plastic bags but didn’t see his mark ahead. “Don’t see him,” he said, and then slowed and turned.

Something dark swung at his head, and he held up his right arm to deflect the blow from a two-by-four from a pallet, no doubt. But the board hit plastic and metal and bounced off. Hook swung under it with his left, catching Scooter in the chin. Their target dropped like a sack of rocks across a row of trash bags lined up on the dirty, smelly pavement.

Hook stood over Scooter, shaking his left hand because it hurt like hell. Then he noted that his prosthetic dangled kind of funny. He tried to open and close the claw, but apparently, Scooter’s blow had damaged the cable. “Fuck,” he said, and gave Scooter a light kick in the side. “Bastard.”

The sounds of two individuals converging on him from different directions forced him to contain his anger and tuck his prosthetic against his body to hide the damage. The last thing he ever wanted to have happen was for one of these guys to think he was less capable of mixing it up. For the most part, he thought of his arm as an advantage in a fight. Metal hit harder than flesh and bone, and, generally, it could sustain a punch much better, too.

Thankfully, he kept a spare in his vehicle. He just had to get there. But first things first.

Scooter moaned from the ground as Cochise then Dagger came to a halt beside him and stared downward.

“Like we tried to tell you before you ran like a scared rabbit,” Hook said to Scooter, “we’re fugitive recovery agents, and we’re taking you to jail.”

Scooter pushed up on an elbow. “What the hell is that smell?”

Dagger sniffed. “Don’t know, but now I’m hungry. Could be chili.”

“I think it’s stew,” Cochise dead-panned. “Benny’s Eats makes a mean beef stew.”

“Shit, it’s all the way up my shirt,” Scooter said as he sat, rubbing his jaw.

“Well, looks like you’ll have something to snack on during the drive back,” Dagger drawled.

Scooter let out a huff. “Goddamn. My car, man. I left it at the gun shop.”

“You’ll just have to pick it up from impound,” Dagger said, “if the judge is stupid enough to let someone bond you out again.”

Hook reached down his left hand to help Scooter to his feet.

Scooter frowned. “Damn, you wearing armor on your arm? My teeth about rattled out of my head when I hit you.” Then he glanced at Hook’s metal claw. “Well, shit. That explains a lot.”

Hook reached for his handcuffs from the pocket on the back of his web belt. When he pulled them forward, he realized he wasn’t going to be able to cuff him, not one-handed.

Cochise held out his hand. “Let me do the honors.”

Hook pressed his lips together and handed him his handcuffs. If he’d been on his own, he’d have managed, somehow, but he might have had to put Scooter back on the ground first. He hadn’t quite mastered the single-handed snap using his left hand. Everything was harder to master with his left. Maybe he should ask Raydeen to add handcuffing to the everyday tasks he worked on improving.

Once Cochise had Scooter restrained, he stood back and let Hook grip Scooter’s upper arm to take him back to their vehicles.

The walk back was interminable. They passed the bikers who shot them birds but otherwise stayed pretty mellow. Back at the gun shop, Lacey, Dagger’s partner, gave a wave to the shop owner and sauntered their way. She’d canvassed the businesses in Libby days ago, leaving cards. No doubt the middle-aged owner had been only too eager to snitch, because then she’d grace his shop again. Dressed in skin-tight jeans and a pink button-down blouse that she’d knotted at her midriff, Lacey looked like a sweet confection. All that was missing was the powdered sugar.

“Hey there, Scooter,” she said. Then she shook her head and held her nose. “Good Lord, he is not riding in our vehicle.”

Hook grunted. “You can ride with me. I’ll even let you drive.”

Lacey might have looked like a cupcake, but she was one sharp cookie. Her gaze went to the arm he’d tucked close to his body, and she gave him a broad smile. “Dagger, you don’t mind if I ride with Hook, do you? I’ve never had the chance to talk with him alone.”

Dagger narrowed his eyes.

Lacey gave him a blinding smile. “See you back in Bear Lodge! Only you’ll be way later than us,” she said, then held her nose again and gave him a wink.
Cochise chuckled. “Come on, Scooter. You’ve got a new date with a judge. Bet if you sweettalk your jailers, they’ll let you have a shower before they put you in your cell.”

After Cochise, Dagger, and Scooter left, Lacey turned back to Hook, her big blue eyes rounding in concern. “Oh my God, you’re hurt!”

Is reality television altering the way people think about or view romance?

Today’s post starts with a question that may have a frightening answer—at least, for me it may. Before I dive headfirst into this abyss of a rabbit blackhole, let me begin with a brief explanation of what brought this question to mind. Throughout the week, I’m busy with work, but on Sunday evenings, I have some time to relax. It is then that I enjoy engorging my mind on junk tv that doesn’t require me to think too much to get a good chuckle. Several years ago, my television watching began to change—first out of curiosity, then out of choice, and then because out of limited choice. The cable company changed and affordable cable came in a reduced package. Initially, I began watching reality tv to see what it was all about. What was the hype? I enjoyed the elimination challenge shows, the ones where individuals were given some outrageous (but accomplishable) task that needed to be solved by the end of short deadlines, the most. At the time, there still was a variety of sitcoms and dramas. But that began to change. Reality tv went from a novelty to the norm, with no genre being left unscathed until they saturated daytime and prime time.

Not that reality tv was ever a reality, I did enjoy that some elements seemed unscripted and genuine. I felt that I was gaining a sneak peek in someone else’s more exciting life. But the more I watched, the more draining and depressing they felt. Then one day, it dawned on me, this “reality” stuff is all (or the majority) of what millennials may know and respond and what older generations are being forced to adapt to.

I’m about to reveal my age when I say this next because I truly feel old now. I remember when computer dating held a stigma. Now, it’s the status quo. Young physically flawless women are lined on the tv in droves to compete for the affection of a single man and are destroyed to tears after an episode or two when he does not pick them from the liter. Are they truly convinced they are in love? And why would a woman do this? I asked a female friend this who pointed out something startling. She asked me if I’d been to any bars of clubs lately. My answer was no. Then, she asked me why. My jaw dropped as I began answering. In this area where I was sitting, there are no bars. The closest thing to a bar is a restaurant (e.g., Buffalo Wild Wings or Applebee’s) that serves alcohol. A group may go there just for drinks, but more likely, people go mainly for the food. As far as clubs, there are a few, but they are all geared towards the “don’t know I’m not twenty anymore” crowd. What I mean is the target audience is the local college scene. Who shows up are pervs and cougars hoping to pounce on young, tender, inexperienced meat and mothers squeezed into their teenage daughter’s clothes? Fights are almost a constant, and as a result, many of the venues look like Harpo’s place in The Color Purple. Mostly, the college students do not go there, preferring private house parties or fraternity/sorority soirees. However, even if they wanted to go clubbing, many could not afford the jacked-up admission fee that does not include the cost of drinks.

The business professional types largely stay at home, as in the Bible Belt, it is looked upon negatively to be seen in any establishment that serves alcohol, and many surrounding counties are dry. Their recreational excursions revolve around church events. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking church functions. However, the old adage, “meet a nice boy in church” appears mythical. Everyone in church is already coupled-up.

That leaves malls and grocery stores for meeting people. Gone are those days, too. Malls are the graveyards of dying retailers with the few that remain open having few venues and limited stock. It is a sad state that more people are not invested in keeping brick and mortars around and pumping breath into local communities. Let me stop and say that I am a huge supporter of mom and pop stores and buying local. I have been heavily criticized for my position with some citing it as being political. I see it as residents being able to support their families and a check and balance system against blatant monopolies. I do not view anything political about a person wanting to put food on the table, a roof over their head, and non-designer clothes on their backs. If this view upsets people, I do not make any apologies about holding it, but mom and pop stores are one of the cornerstones of this country, which appear to be fading out of existence. In my teen years, malls were booming and place for anyone who was anybody to be on the weekends. But a trip to the mall here is a very different experience.

Instead of stylish display windows, they are covered with paper. An occasional cellphone chime has replaced constant chatter, footsteps, and speaker music. Kiosks have been replaced by vending machines. One would have better luck panning for gold than finding a mate in a mall in this area. Outlet malls once were the diamonds. Now, even those are closing.

The state of grocery stores is similar. Few “grocers” are opened. Most are large chain supermarkets or mega department stores that sell food. Patrons who frequent them are nose-deep in text messaging and are interested in getting out as quickly as possible. Chitchat detains them, and they don’t like that. They are annoyed by the crowds, waits in line, and having to self-check.

In my desperate attempt to think of some hub for meeting, I considered parks, spas, and gyms. Well, there are no spas, so I can cross that off immediately. Gyms are a beast of a different nature. There are basically two kinds in the area—male and female. I don’t think it’s the owners’ intention that they are that way, though. I know that is not how they are advertised. However, if you look into the windows, it rare to see mixed crowds.

There are several parks, but they are all small. The largest one is surrounded by a small walk track (eight laps equals a mile). It gets a lot of traffic for all ages. However, most walkers have earbuds stuffed in their ears as they exercise, likely to drown out the screaming kids that dart across the path on the way to the swings. The thing about the parks is they seem to be all or nothing. Either they are crowded with barely enough room for people to exercise or desolate. There’s not much seating, and the park is divided into three sections. One section has no parking and no paths. The landscape is very uneven and few people go there.

Even when there are city-sponsored events, that area is unused, except for parking. The largest section has a sprinkle of benches and has what is called an “amphitheater” that runs along the outskirt. Even the newly developed dog park is utilized. Only two parks have lights. The first park is used for little league soccer. Those lights are only turned on for games. The other park, the largest one—the one with the three sections, only has one area with lights. In short, unless there is a hosted event, the park is not ideal for meeting new people. In fact, I’ve never heard anyone here claimed to have met their significant other at one of these parks.

After dissecting my current living area, it became clear to me: I’m not in Kansas (or in my case, Louisiana) anymore. My investigative nose got a bug, and I began to question how people found spouses/partners here. What I quickly learned is that most couples are natives to the area, meaning they’ve always known each other, or, at least, have known each other since grade school. A few stated that they met their love interest in college (and there are several colleges nearby) and have been married for years or they are currently enrolled in college. The single scene for adults really does not exist.

But wait. I bet you’re thinking about dating apps. Hmm. I remember when those used to be stereotyped. Now, they’re the norm. But even those are a letdown. In small regions, there are few compatible matches in close proximity. A potential love connection may be a hundred miles away, a.k.a., long-distance relationship.

And that leads to reality tv for people to get their romantic fix. Watching these as the only examples of romance, one begins to normalize it as dating reality. Patience is thrown out with the bathtub, baby, and all the diapers. Insta-love is the belief du jour. Actually, it’s not even insta-love. Forget dinner and a movie or even the three-date rule. There’s one reality tv program that participants meet each other at the altar (or wherever) seconds before getting married. Women wait in droves to get selected as the chosen one to be wined and dined on frozen television dinners by a pool. Not to knock anyone’s hustle, but what real woman (or man for that matter) would put up with that. Well, apparently a lot. However, it is being exposed frequently that many of the persons on reality tv are actors with scripts, which is fine. Or it would be fine. But how about calling a spade a spade as the old folks say? Instead of calling it reality tv where viewers expect some portions of dialogue and circumstances to be a quarter of a centimeter true, say it’s a drama, sitcom, or some work of fiction.

I know I never expected reality television to be “real,” but on some of these “dating” shows, I did hold out hope that what I was seeing was true love—that maybe the situation or setting may have been manipulated but the feelings were real. Now, even my faith in that is shook, as some networks are brassily supporting cheating and adulty. Lies and deceptions are being upheld as reality standards that should be accepted by some networks. Now, I say some and not all. And I’m not pinpointing or singling out any one particular television production.

In all fairness, anyone watching television should not be using television as their only source for a moral compass. However, it does cause one to wonder with the seeming evaporation of romance in many smaller communities and the use of the word “reality”, how are people defining romance?

What are your thoughts on romance? Do you feel that the definition of romance is changing? What do you think is romantic? Have your thoughts of romance changed? I’d like to hear your opinions. Please leave a comment and let me know your opinion. Also, let me know if you like this type of content and would like to see more of these kinds of posts.

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Enjoy sports romance? Check out my new adult romance, Defending the Net, released on November 10. It is the second in my hockey series and guaranteed to melt the ice. It will be sold at Kindle, Apple Store, Nook, Kobo, !ndigo, Angus & Robertson, and Mondadori Store. It is the second in my hockey series and guaranteed to melt the ice. Order a copy now at www.books2read.com/defending. Crossing the line could cost the game.

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Life’s Roux: Wrong Doors, my steamy romantic comedy, is available at Red Sage Publishing. To order, follow the link to https://bit.ly/2CtE7Ez or to Amazon at https://amzn.to/2lCQXpt.

Copies of all my books and stories are available in paper, eBook, and audio on Amazon, iTunes, Kobo, and Barnes & Noble. The links are listed in my Writing Projects page (https://bit.ly/2iDYRxU) along with descriptions of each of my novels or stories.

NEWSLETTER! Want to get the latest information and updates about my writing projects, giveaways, contests, and reveals first? Click https://genevivechambleeconnect.wordpress.com/newsletter/ and signup today.

Don’t forget to visit Creole Bayou again. New posts are made on Wednesdays. If you have any questions or suggestions about this post or any others, feel free to comment below or tweet me at @dolynesaidso. You also can follow me on Instagram at genevivechambleeauthor or search me on Goodreads or Amazon Authors.

Finally, if you or anyone you know are interested in joining a college Greek life organization, check out my special series posted each Monday for everything you wanted (and didn’t want) to know about college fraternities and sororities. Visit Sorority Bible Table of Contents to view any or all of these posts.

UPDATE: The winner is…Katherine Anderson!
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I have a book to finish by the end of the week, so my head is down, my focus is razor-sharp, and I’m trying to stay away from social media, but I may need to find some sprinters to help keep my butt in the chair! And hey! Have you pre-ordered your copy of Quincy? It’s super-fun, very sexy, and if you’re looking for something that will make you laugh and squirm, well, this might do the trick! (Or so my beta readers are telling me! 🙂 ) Click on the cover below to reserve your copy! It’s coming out one week from today!

In the meantime, here’s a fun puzzle with an accompanying contest…

Contest

Tell me a story! Doesn’t have to be longer than one sentence, but have fun with it! What sort of story “goes” with this picture?
Enter to win a $5 Amazon gift card!