Win a copy of Razor: Desire's Edge &
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chat with author Margie Church
today at the Book Boost!
What's in a Meal?
Valentine's Day always puts so much pressure on people. Whether you're in a relationship or trying to get one going, the right Valentine's Day dinner is one of those make or break dates. I've generally had epic fail on mine. On our first Valentine's Day as a married couple, I made one of my favorite meals. The idea of it still makes my mouth water. It's a local specialty I grew up eating. And since we don't live in that area of the state anymore, I thought it would be really nice. Until I served dinner.
My husband of six months looked at me like I'd just served him poached rat.
I urged him to try it.
He gave me a pained look. "It's blood sausage, sauerkraut, and boiled potatoes. On Valentine's Day."
I shrugged. It was a perfectly lovely dinner, in my estimation.
The sauerkraut slid off the plate, back into the pan where it could ferment until the day he died, DH proclaimed.
I wasn't real surprised. It is an acquired taste. He was from Maine. They don't eat sauerkraut in Maine.
DH got up from the table, and lit a candle.
How romantic. Why didn't I think of a candle-lit dinner?
"That ought to help with the stink."
I raised an eyebrow. This meal wasn't going the way I thought it would. Hum, the blind eyes of wedded bliss must have clouded my thinking.
He opened the refrigerator.
"Beer doesn't go with this."
He came back to the table with a bottle of ketchup.
I squinted at him, appalled at the idea of soiling my delicious blood sausage with ketchup.
I cut my slice in half and took a forkful. It was done to perfection, slightly salty on the inside, its natural casing crispy on the outside.
The ketchup bottle made that farting sound.
I looked over to his plate. The blood sausage had indeed been resurrected, reincarnated even, and it needed a medic. Right now. "That looks disgusting."
He gave me a surprised look. "Is this a challenge?"
"You're not supposed to put ketchup on blood sausage. It'll taste gross."
He put some on his fork. "In my opinion, ketchup tastes better than this, so if I put enough ketchup on it, it'll kill the taste."
I know I screwed up my face the same way we do before we have to change a poopy diaper.
He put the black and red stuff in his mouth. Chewed. Slowly. He swallowed. It didn't come back up.
I took his plate and put the meal in the trash. "You're on your own, but I'm never cooking this for you again."
He actually smiled. Then, he made himself a peanut butter sandwich.
Suffice it to say, I kept my promise to this day. I eat my delicious blood sausage alone, and actually that's fine by me. I'm not good at sharing anyway.
Food plays a role in all my books. I almost always have some crazy-ass thing a character likes to eat. In Krewe Daddy, Drew likes to eat turkey bologna with peanut butter sandwiches. Makes you want to gag, eh? Washes it down with chocolate milk and remarks that he has the dietary preferences of a toddler.
Diet Pepsi is the first and last thing Jolene drinks every day. Rosalind is addicted to cranberry nut bread. Brendan can't stay away from bear claw donuts. Lily loves sweet tea – the kind that'll rot my teeth just thinking about it. Blood sausage is a local favorite in my neck of the woods. But then so are liver and kidney stew. I want to brush my teeth just thinking about those foods.
In Razor: Desire's Edge, you can always tell when Bryce is upset – he swirls bourbon in his glass. He might never say a word, but if that booze is swishing, Bryce is wound tight. Let me share the first book in the Razor series - Desire's Edge by Margie Church and K.B. Cutter!
An erotic, insightful novel about one of today's most controversial topics: polyamory.
Amy has a core need to occasionally be sexually dominant with her husband, and he's not getting the message. Her solution is very unconventional. She want hers best friend, Raine, a lifestyle Domme, to mentor him.
Initially, Bryce thinks Amy's crazy.
Raine brings a new level of excitement and kink to the marriage. What they thought would be a temporary situation evolves into much more, especially when Amy and Bryce develop deeper feelings for Raine. Their newfound intimacy makes all three examine their views about love and sex outside marital boundaries, their sexual identities, and the definition of family.
Embracing an inevitable destiny, the triad lives on the razor's edge of a happiness many will never know. Razor: Desire's Edge is a must-read for all those who saw, or heard about Showtime's controversial series, Polyamory: Married and Dating.
This groundbreaking, erotic trilogy continues in Razor: Love's Storm and Razor: Love's Reflection.
A Note from the Book Boost: Margie, I LOVED this story about you and your hubby. Bless your heart! So funny and thanks for sharing it with us. The new series looks hot and heavy. Please tell us more.
Excerpt (edited for content):
She opened the door at the end of the hall and motioned for Bryce to enter.
He looked around the room, lit by candles and lanterns. "Kind of gothic, isn't it?"
"From here forward you'll refer to me as Mistress or Mistress Raine." Her tone brooked no argument. She pointed to the chair in the center of the room. "Take off your shirt, and sit down."
While Bryce did as she asked, he eyed the leather restraint she'd picked up.
She walked behind his chair, heels clicking on the hardwood floor. "Hands behind your back."
The second he moved, she jerked his left wrist backward, fastening the buckles, one after the other, with expert ease. Then, much to Bryce's surprise, she fastened a cuff around his neck, too.
Looking pleased, Raine seemed to size him up.
He licked his lower lip, then cleared his throat.
"I know you're thinking there's a way to turn this in your favor, Bryce. And there is. Say the safe word, and you're released and gone. Until then, you will do as I say, within the boundaries we've agreed to. Do you understand?"
He nodded, the stiff leather uncomfortable under his chin.
"I didn't hear you."
Although she smiled, the warmth was gone from her expression. Bryce knew she was being as condescending as he.
"Sit tight, I'll be right back."
While she was gone, Bryce calculated various scenarios and their potential outcomes for the evening. When she returned with a steaming bowl of water and supplies, he arched an eyebrow.
This is unexpected.
Bryce noticed a gleam in her eye. One of sexual mischief or malice? The razorblade drew his attention. His skin rose at the thought of it upon his flesh.
For Bryce, time had no meaning. The universe was reduced to only the two of them and the sharp edge of the razor.
Want More Margie?
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