The Yearning Heart is…
… frantically, crazily, madly, recklessly, heedlessly, almost uncontrollably horny.
I’ll live. No one ever died from this, right?
I visited Lady Ann’s today, and got a lot of really groovy attention from guys but held them at arm’s length. It’s easier during the daytime when I know a freshly awakened toddler could interrupt me at any moment.
All right, I am a romance novel.
I spoke last night to Monsieur about, um, servicing me more often. I feel like a cranky brood mare. Anyway, he allowed that he could be more dutiful that way, and then he got this far-away look and I asked him what was wrong. “It’s Maggie,” he said. “I don’t think that I am completely ready for this, what you want from me.”
“It’s all right,” I assured him, feeling like shit inside. “I don’t think either of us will ever get over that. It was too sudden, too unexpected.”
Someone sent me a link to this book on http://powells.com. I am a romance novel.
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