By Pam Asberry

Last night I sat in Miss Maggie’s cheerful kitchen, moaning as I nibbled on a hot buttered biscuit smeared with strawberry jam.

“How did I get stuck writing today’s PFHT blog post?” I sniffled. “I hate Valentine’s Day. I’m the only single gal in this crowd. What do I know about love?”

Leave it to Miss Maggie to set me straight.

I have been divorced for almost twelve years now, and it makes me crazy to think about how much of that time has been frittered away looking for the quintessential romantic love: all the awkward first dates; all the weeks, months and years I have spent in relationships there were destined to end in heartbreak and pain for everyone involved; all the Valentine’s Days I spent feeling sorry for myself because there was no special someone in my life to bring me candy, flowers and cards.

I have always been a sucker for the hype, for the grand gesture. But there’s romantic love and there’s just plain love, and it turns out I know a whole lot about that.

“If you constantly focus on what you don’t have, you will never be able to appreciate what you do have,” Miss Maggie chided. “Quit your whining take a look around. There is love in every direction you turn.”

It didn’t take me long to see that she was right. There’s my mama and daddy, my brother and his wife, my children and my pooch. There are piano students and writer friends and piano teacher friends and friends I’ve known such a long time I don’t even know where they came from.  There are Facebook friends and Twitter friends and blogger friends, people I’ve never even met who reach out to me with affirmation and affection on a regular basis.

“As a matter of fact,” Miss Maggie continued, “the best way to feel love is to give love. Lots of it. To yourself and to everyone around you. It’s not fattening like chocolate. It doesn’t fade like flowers. You don’t need a postage stamp to send it. And the more you give, the more you get back in return.”

So that’s how I’m celebrating this February fourteenth: by pouring all the love I have in my heart over everyone I hold dear. It’s a long list. I’ll be way too busy to feel sorry for myself.

Pam Asberry

Blog: http://pamasberry.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pamasberryfanpage
Twitter: http://twitter.com/pamasberry

by Carol Burnside (aka Annie Rayburn)

Initially, I was going to talk about Valentine’s Day which is coming up this Thursday. When I mentioned this to Miss Maggie, she paused in mid-stream pour of my cup of tea and harrumphed. I’m not sure what that meant, but I forged on. In preparation for writing this romance post, I took two online quizzes which were supposed to determine whether or not I was romantic. Now, I know I am, but answered the questions honestly, even when I suspected they weren’t on the highly romantic end of things. But during the process, I noticed a vast difference between the quizzes and it changed the slant of my post.  

On the Quizopolous  site, the questions centered on what I consider lazy romance – much like clichés in writing fiction. Songs, reading poetry to one’s partner, bubble baths, moonlit beaches, flowers, my pajama choices. I scored 4 out of 15! Me. A romance writer. The verdict was that I considered matching sweatpants romantic. At my exclamation of dismay, Miss Maggie peeked at the screen over my shoulder and shook her head. 

Then I took the Chatterbean quiz and was pronounced a ‘Hopeless Romantic!’ This quiz got a “There ya go.” comment from Miss Maggie as she carried our teacups to the sink. The questions here were more about my habits. Do I kiss with my eyes closed? Fiction or non-fic? Love stories or comedy? There were questions about my feelings on PDA and whether I thought about my partner during the day. IMO, they were focusing more on my inner romantic nature rather than outer, schmaltzy behavior.  

Perhaps it’s my age, or the fact that I was raised by practical-minded, frugal women, but there are a lot of supposedly ‘romantic’ things I find frivolous and even consider them lazy clichés. Yes, I’d be somewhat disappointed if my hubby bought me a heart box of candy and a bouquet of flowers for Valentine’s. That worked when I was 14, but now the candy would sabotage my diet. (I’ve lost 12 pounds, y’all!) The flowers? Eh, I could live with them as long as he didn’t spend a small fortune. I’d rather have a nice evening out with him or a piece of jewelry that reminds me of the occasion.  

Romance is me getting the oil changed and filling the gas tank before a trip because Hubby was out of town and it would be a mad rush for him to get those things done upon his return. It’s remembering to keep a supply of his favorite diet pudding on hand, his favorite drink stocked or picking up his business mail while I’m in town so he doesn’t have to stop at midnight after a long day of traveling. To me, those things say “I love you still, after more than three decades of marriage.” 

I’m betting our readers and my blog sisters have some definite opinions about what’s romantic and not. Please share. Name three things you find romantic or tell me how you show your love in everyday ways.

By Darcy Crowder

The candy’s gone, unless you have better will power than I do, or not as many kids roaming the house, that stunning bouquet of flowers is starting to wilt and your night on the town is now just a pleasant memory, that is until you get to relive it as you pay the credit card bill.  So what now?

Where are you going to find romance today?  Tomorrow?  Next week?

Romance is all around you, 365 days of the year, you just have to dust off those rose-colored glasses and look for it – sometimes, maybe, be willing to expand on the traditional romance equals hearts, flowers, passion, definition.  It is, after all, a new millennium.

Take my white knight, for instance.  Every day he puts on his battle armor of fine, pressed business attire, hops into his trusty gas efficient vehicle and fights his way into downtown Atlanta traffic, all in a day’s work to provide a comfortable, safe environment for his family.

That’s not romance, you say.

Well, what about on the weekends when he drives my car and fills it up with gas, so I don’t have to.  Or brings firewood up from the woodshed so I don’t have to tromp down there by myself at night or face off with spiders.  Or how about when he washes the dinner dishes the next morning because we got to bed late and he knows I didn’t sleep well and hate to wake up to a messy kitchen.

Well, maybe that’s sort of romantic, in a helpful kinda way.

Okay.  How about when he slides over in bed on cold winter nights so I can lay in the “warm spot” and tolerates my freezing toes hovering just centimeters away.  Or how, after 26 years, he still holds my hand when we drive around in the car.  Or is known to sweep me up in a waltz around the kitchen as we fix dinner because a favorite song came on.  Or how about those times when for no reason at all, no holiday, no birthday, just an ordinary day, he stops me in the hallway and tells me I’m beautiful.

Yeah.  Now that’s romantic.

So tell me, where do you find romance?

Since my day to blog fell on Valentine’s Day, I was planning to give you some history about Saint Valentine and his day.  But, the more I researched, the more I came to realize that it was a little dry and ….well, boring.  So, I decided to talk about something that would be of more interest to most of us.     Chocolate.

Do you have any idea how much chocolate is sold in America for Valentine’s Day?  According to Nielsen, we will purchase…and consume…more than 58 million pounds of chocolate.  Can you guess the only other holiday to sell more?  No, not Christmas, but Easter with 71 million pounds of chocolate being sold.  But, back to Valentine’s Day.  We also purchase more than 8 Billion little, pastel conversational heart-shaped candies.  Can anyone say, “Sugar Overload?”  Just as a side note, 40% of the world’s almonds and 20% of the world’s peanuts are used by candy makers for the chocolates they make for Valentine’s Day.

Americans like to not only give tons of yummy chocolate to our sweeties, but we like to give it in red, heart-shaped boxes….over 35 million of them.  Oh, and we can’t forget cards.  This (and Mother’s Day), are the two biggest card-selling days of the year.

Roses?  More than 100 million roses are sold for this holiday.  A nation-wide survey revealed that women would rather receive one perfect red rose than a dozen and although men prefer to receive chocolate, women prefer to be taken to dinner.  The average man will spend more than $130 on his sweetie…with some spending a LOT more if they tuck an engagement ring in with the roses.

Oh, and don’t forget the pet!  At least 3% of pet owners give cards to their dogs & cats!

All I can say is that candy, roses & dinner sure beat what they had to go through in the 17th century.  It was believed that eating a hard-boiled egg and then pinning five bay leaves to her pillow would make a young girl dream of her future husband.

Personally, I prefer Henry David Thoreau’s theory.  “There is no remedy for love but to love more.”

You’d think Valentine’s Day would be the height of the year for any romance writer. And in some ways it is for me. My heart goes pitty-pat at the sight of cupids with bows and arrows, pretty red hearts, not to mention a nice big box of chocolates. And red roses make me melt.

But in our household every Valentine’s Day hasn’t lived up to its reputation.

For example, the year we went to a special restaurant (which I won’t name) that was so crowded, we had to sit at a tiny table against the wall near the bathrooms.

It was partly our fault. We always try to avoid the crowds, but we mistimed things that year. Anyway, the spot was close and noisy and downright uncomfortable. At one point after the waitress had ignored us for about a half an hour, we put our empty appetizer dishes on the floor to get her attention. Well, there really wasn’t room for all of them on the table.

Okay, okay that was mean. But you get my point that it wasn’t a great day.

Then there was the time hubby went to the doctor and complained of a small ache in his chest. The overzealous physician panicked and checked him into the nearby hospital for observation.

That’s right. On Valentine’s Day.

When I finally got to the hospital in the early evening, I found poor hubby sitting on a bed in a gown with all kinds of beeping monitors hooked up to him, and a grouchy scowl on his face. Not in the mood for celebrating. And he was hungry. All they’d given him to eat was that gross green hospital jello.

It was getting late and I was hungry, too. All the numbers on the monitors were fine. So I decided to get him something I could sneak in. One of our favorite Chinese restaurants was in the area, so that’s where I headed. I didn’t think I could smuggle in two orders, so I asked for a table for one and ate my meal there.

You should’ve seen the stares I got. I could just hear people around me thinking, Oh, that poor thing. All by herself on Valentine’s Day. Couldn’t she get a date? Maybe I should recommend eHarmony or Match.com?

“My husband’s in the hospital because of his over-reactive cardiologist!!!” I wanted to scream them. Instead, I just smiled and ate my Moo Goo Gai Pan. It was delicious.

I did manage to sneak hubby’s order of Kung Pao Chicken into his hospital room. Eggroll included. The nurses would’ve had a fit if they’d seen it, but he wolfed it down in time.

He enjoyed his Valentine’s Day dinner in bed.

So what you planning for Valentine’s Day? I hope your plans goes better for you than mine did that year.

If you need to get in a romantic mood, check out my blog and listen to Andrea Bocelli singing Besame Mucho (Kiss Me A Lot). One of my absolute favorites. Makes me swoon every time.

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!

~Veronica A. Shoffstall

When you’re single and female, certain holidays pose special challenges. There’s New Year’s Eve, when everyone else is kissing their sweethearts at midnight and all you can do is watch it on television; Halloween when you want to dress up as Wilma Flintstone but can’t because nobody will know who you are supposed to be unless Fred is standing beside you; and your birthday which, depending on your age, serves as only a reminder either that your biological clock is ticking or confirmation that you’re destined to be old and alone.

It’s taken me ten years of single hood to make peace with all of this. Last year, for example, I threw myself a fabulous birthday party. I invited all my besties and their significant others, where applicable, to join me for dinner at my favorite Italian restaurant and to my house for cake and ice cream afterwards. It was a happy birthday, indeed. On Halloween, I turned off the front porch lights, poured myself a bowl of candy corn, and watched It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. I felt like I was seven again. And I brought in 2012 with my brother and his wife and my kids. We listened to 80’s music and played board games and drank champagne. I hugged my dog at midnight and went to bed feeling nothing but joy and optimism.

But now it’s almost Valentine’s Day, and I can’t even go grocery shopping without feeling like I am missing something. I have to swim through an ocean of beribboned balloons just to find a loaf of bread. The gargantuan assortment of floral displays makes it difficult to find the chicken noodle soup. And as I approach the checkout line, it is impossible to avoid the cheerful displays of stuffed animals and heart shaped candy boxes, none of which have my name on them.

Finally, though, I understand that being single is not a punishment for evil doing in a past life, a consequence of any shortcoming of mine, or even a state of lacking something. It simply is what it is. I am complete whether or not I am in a relationship.

So this year, I am going to be my own valentine. Instead of candy, I am treating myself to a five thousand meter run with my family on Sunday. The last time I went to Kroger, I tossed a perfect pink rose into my shopping cart, brought it home and put it in a vase to enjoy all weekend. And on February 14^th, I’m going to light a candle and say a prayer for each of the men I have ever loved as well as for the man I still believe is out there for me.

Whether you’re happily married, unabashedly single, or somewhere in between, I wish you and yours the happiest Valentine’s Day ever!

When I looked at our schedule and discovered I was to post TODAY – February 14 – my eyes popped out of my head. And I had made the schedule, LOL. I had unwittingly given myself Valentine’s Day. What was I thinking?

After all, Valentine’s Day is kind of intimidating for romance writer. We’ve really got to live up to the day’s reputation.

So in a rather uninspired moment, I decided to tell about the history of Valentine’s Day. I went to Wikipedia hoping to find a lovely romantic story that would make everyone sigh.

Instead, I discovered that the day was actually a commemoration of several martyrs named Valentine, two in particular who were killed in AD 197 and AD 269. Very honorable, but not very romantic. In fact, Wikipedia states: “No romantic elements are present in the original early medieval biographies of either of these martyrs.” That angle was added later for commercial purposes.

Bummer.

So what was I supposed to write for my blog post? Hearts and chocolates and romantic dinners seemed so old hat. I scratched my head for awhile and finally it dawned on me – why not use an excerpt of a First Kiss scene from one of my old manuscripts? Well, that wasn’t so easy to find either. I needed something sweet and really romantic, something “sighable,” and the stuff in my romantic suspense novels just didn’t fit the bill. I dug and dug, and at last found something I thought was suitable from a series I had dubbed “The Prasala Chronicles,” about a faraway land filled with alpha-princes and kings. I hope you agree.

So here it is for your reading pleasure. I hope it gives you a little Valentine’s Day thrill.

~~~

Darcy Matthews, a notorious flirt who’s never been in love, is an aspiring pop singer visiting the far-away country of Prasala. She has attracted the attention of the dark and mysterious King Leopold, who until now has been obsessed with work. After a successful audition, the King invites Darcy to dinner, then she suggests a stroll in a city park.

~~~

After a short ride in the royal limo, they arrived at an old stone gate at the park’s entrance. Leopold helped her out of the car, offered her his arm, and they made their way down a curving foot trail bordered by flowers, trees, and monuments.

Under the lamps and the moonlight, the place had a mystical, iridescent beauty. The smell of exotic blooms scented the air. A small river gurgled under a wooden bridge. A nightingale sang in the distance.

As they meandered down the path, the King explained that many of the various statutes had been dedicated to his ancestors. He described the history behind them, the beginnings of the House of de Chambonay, the founding of Pravoy as the country’s capital.

Soon they came to a deserted spot where artists painted the scenery at daytime. At its edge stood a stone staircase. Leopold took her arm and led her up the steps, stopping in front of a large, bronze sculpture of a man on horseback.

Darcy caught her breath at the image of a powerful conqueror with a threatening sword overhead, and his steed’s bronze forehooves pawing the air.

Leopold took her hands in his. “You were right, Darcy.”

She turned to him. His face was warm, inviting. “About what?”

“About the walk. I can’t remember when I’ve felt so refreshed.”

She smiled at the formal way he always expressed himself, but she was glad he was pleased. “I usually give pretty good advice.”

“I’m sure you do.” His eyes roamed over her face, taking her breath away. His look told her he didn’t have returning to his work on his mind tonight.

She nodded toward the statue. “Who’s this?”

“King Ignatius. Another one of my ancestors.”

“The former king was a good-looking man.” His eyes might be made of metal, but the intensity in them wasn’t lost on her. “I see the resemblance.”

Leopold’s lip turned up at her comment. For a long moment, he studied the image. “I hope my fate will be more peaceful than his,” he said wistfully.

“Oh? Was he a soldier? He seems pretty ferocious with that sword.”

He nodded. “King Ignatius is known as the Warrior King. Two hundred years ago, he put down a corrupt uprising in Chevalia.”

Chevalia? “The region my sister is Princess over now?”

“The very same place. The people were quite different then. All is calm now, thanks in part to some of the policies King Ignatius put in place then.”

“Really.” Darcy watched him studying the figure. This land wasn’t at all like back home. “How strange.”

“Strange?”

“The world you live in is so different from where I come from.”

He took both her hands in his, turned her toward him. “And yet, what I see inside you is far more noble, more regal than anything in my world.”

Surprise made her laugh. “What do you mean?”

His eyes grew as intense as the statue’s. “You are so carefree, so ethereal.”

As in heavenly? “Really?” No one had ever called her that before.

He nodded. “And your singing — it’s as though there’s a mystical power in your voice.”

This man knew how to flatter a woman. “Go on.”

His face suddenly filled with uncharacteristic emotion. Words tumbled out of him, heavy with his Prasalian accent. “When I heard you sing today, you made my heart soar. I felt as though I was transported to some celestial place. I longed to stay there. For a moment, I wanted never to return to my mundane existence.”

Her mouth opened. She was so stunned, she couldn’t even say thank you.

He pulled her close to him, slipped both arms around her. He pressed her close to him, his passion nearly bursting from his body. “Oh, Darcy. If only I could bask in your loveliness forever.”

She knew it was coming, but she was even more shocked when his lips touched hers. She’d expected him to be subtle, gentle, full of charm. Even a bit coy, like Philippe. Instead, there was the aggression of a lion.

He devoured her. The touch of his mouth sizzled like a streak of lightening blazing across the night sky. The electricity seared her senses. He drew her closer to him, his arms strong and powerful, the press of his lips firm and potent.

Beating madly, her heart flew up, somewhere around the statue’s head. What a rush! She’d kissed dozens of guys back home. Men from all social standings. But she’d never felt anything to match this. That power, that sheer strength of will that exuded from him. It was all Leopold. Tonight, he was the Warrior King. How else could he conquer her so quickly? So thoroughly? She felt like a besieged city, weak, helpless, ravaged.

And she wanted more.

~~~

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Photo credit: Victorian Valentine’s Day Card – Vintage Holiday Crafts

I was the first one in that morning. Co-workers started arriving, ohhing and ahhing over my surprise gift. Who are they from? I didn’t have a clue. A buzz started in my little corner of the office and spread throughout the building. People I only nodded to in passing were now coming up and interrogating me. When did I arrive? Were the flowers there before or after I got in? Who else was around? Did I see anyone? A little before eight, before, no one, no I didn’t see anyone.

To put this in perspective, let me explain I worked in the operational side of a bank. You needed to have a key card to get into the building. That meant the flowers had to be given by someone who worked on the inside. The hunt was on. Everyone in the office was trying to figure out who my secret admirer was. Eventually, my mystery man came forward and asked me out.

I must say I got to meet a lot of people February 14, 1986. The most important one was my future husband.

Have you ever had a romantic gesture that lead to something more?

Let’s talk tomatoes. I love them. I look forward to the garden fresh ones in the summer. Tomatos are the one thing you’re sure to find planted in my garden every year.  I like tomatoes on my cheese toast at breakfast, year round. I always have tomatoes in my salads, love them with cottage cheese as a snack and a BLT is one of finest sandwiches that can be eaten.  I even buy tomatoes “on the vine” during the winter. They’re my splurge. The way I say I love you to me. I’ve also been told I make some of the best salsa around.

But sometimes I’m not a fan of tomatoes, especially cherry sized ones.  You know the ones so often served at a soiree. (That’s French for get-together.)  I know they look cute, travel well and add color. The big but is that they are food and therefore should be easy to eat, but they’re not. I never know what to do with them. Should I pop the entire tomato into my mouth? My experience is that when you do that tomato juice squirts out and runs down your chin. I’ve tried biting them in half and ended up with juice and seeds lining my shirt. I’ve tried cutting them and had nothing to show for the effort but a broken plastic knife. I’ve chased them around on a plate, trying to stab them with a fork to have one end up across the room.

I think my worse experience with tomato backlash was on Valentine’s Day. I was asked to do a TV interview. Dressed in my best Valentine’s vest and holding my cute four year old son in my arms, I was telling the Atlanta area for the six o’clock news the importance of organ donation. I’d never looked better, my son had never looked into the camera more willingly and I’d never spoken more passionately or sincerely. I was sure I was coming across intelligent, confident and personable.  In other words, I thought I was good.  That was until after the interview when I looked down to find half of the insides of a cherry tomato lying on my white blouse, glowing like a neon button. I’d been humbled by a tomato.

Okay, I should just say no and back away unless I’m in the privacy of my own home when I eat cherry tomatoes, but I do so love them.

Do you have any love/hate tales of food?

Don’t get me wrong, I love romance as much as the next girl.  Heck, I live for it, write about it, search it out at every opportunity.  But take one serious health scare, a delicate surgical procedure (different person), a job layoff, the sudden death of a family friend, a very sick dog and abdominal surgery (same dog) and it’s a little hard lately to focus on more than the realities of life.

This Sunday is Valentine’s Day, and this year I’m thinking more in terms of how much I love all the people (and dogs) in my life and not just on romantic love.  I came across the following quote while doing research for my current work in progress, and it’s deepest meaning has haunted me ever since:

“But if you tame me, then we shall need each other.  To me, you will be unique in all the world.  To you, I will be unique in all the world…

You will become responsible forever for what you have tamed…”

                                                                        Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Admittedly, he’s speaking of a wild animal here.  But I can’t help imagining how it can also apply to human relationships.

When we love someone, responsibility follows.  Because, at it’s core, love is a choice – after the fire and excitement of romance settles into a burning ember, after the novelty of  a new friend wears off, after that relative disappoints us one more time – we make a choice, consciously or unconsciously, to continue our relationship.  Some days are easier than others.

Choices have consequences, and consequences beget responsibilities.

And what does all this have to do with Valentine’s Day?  Well, if you take another look at my life these past few weeks you’ll understand why this Valentine’s Day I’m pledging to make sure ALL the people in my life know how much I love and value them.  Not just a few special days of the year, but every chance I get.

And I pledge to take better care of myself, because even though there are days I feel invisible, I have to remember that I am blessed enough to be loved by others, and with that love comes an awesome  responsibility.

PS:  Everyone is doing fine now, including my dog, Cooper, who came home today and is milking this recovery thing for all it’s worth.