The winner of the CC Hunter swag is Kelli! Kelli, please contact Christie at email@example.com!
Please welcome guest blogger Christie Craig!
I know, I know, I used the “P” word. I can see my grandma in Heaven looking down at me, doing her famous finger wave and saying, “Young lady, you take that back right now.”
First, I’d tell grandma, “I can’t take it back, because I don’t have the purple penis, I was one of the envious ones and not the receiver of this great gift.” Second, I’d tell her, and ya’ll too, “Bear with me, give me just a little lead way here.”
Because this blog is truly a wonderful and heart-felt story. But I couldn’t tell the story without using the “P” word, because well, it’s just part of the story.
Let me start at the beginning. (I know, some of you are probably wanting me to jump right to the purple penis, but nope, you gotta hear the whole story.)
I have these friends—there are four of us. We’re all writers, varying ages, all young at heart, but all of us have racked up enough years to remember Elvis. And one of us is old enough to have actually dated him.
We come together once a month for a revival of life. While we do some critiquing, we are mainly a support group. To protect the guilty, I won’t mention names, but Suzan, Jody and Nancy know who they are.
Anyway, we meet at Paneras, a happening restaurant with Wi-fi, good food, and staff and clientele who tolerate us when we get loud. And yeah, that happens more times than not.
We don’t have a lot of rules. Well except one, “What happens in Paneras stays in Paneras.” I apologize profusely for breaking that one rule, but the purple penis story is just too good not to share. Besides, this is just with you guys, right?
So, we came together a while back. And as it is in life, we all bring with us our celebrations, i.e.: a new contract, a new outfit, a husband who finally found the spot (I’m talking about the spot on the floor) anyway, we all love to celebrate the good stuff. And in case you are wondering, there’s no alcohol beverages served. But only because it’s too early.
With four of us, that means we have eight shoulders, and if anyone needs one to cry on, or whine on, there’s always one available. Of course, we won’t let anyone wallow too long, life’s too short.
Some weeks we spend our whining time commiserating about how a two-pound cheesecake can pack on five pounds. We whimper a bit about teenagers being teenagers and how we wish we were like other mammals and just ate our young when we had the chance. We may momentarily mutter bad things about deadlines biting us in the butt, and spend a few short seconds moaning about doggy diarrhea. (Hey, there’s nothing we can’t talk about.)
But sometimes life throws us the crappier problems, (yeah, crappier than doggy diarrhea) and this last month, there must have been some clearance sale on crap because there seems to have been a lot to go around.
Things such as a recent loss of a parent, family issues, dying pets, job transfers out of state, health problems, and health problems of a spouse. The kind of problems that if one isn’t careful, can rob you of your joy.
Thank goodness we’re careful. Thank goodness we have each other. And for that particular day, thank goodness for the purple penis.
So imagine us, arriving at the restaurant--hearts a little heavier than usual. Suzan starts pulling out these really nice Hallmark gift boxes—keepsake type of boxes—from a bag.
“These are for you guys. Just because I appreciate all you do.”
Now, we all love gifts, but surprise gifts are the best. She hands us each our specific box. And we start opening them. Inside my box is lots of tissue, beneath I find a Willow Tree statue of an angel that I collect, and a leather bookmark. I love it! I watch Nancy open hers; she has journal books, a nice pen, as well as a bookmark. Then Jody opens her box, unfolds the tissue, and she pulls out a purple object. She holds it up in the middle of the table as we all try to wrap our minds around what it is. I mean, I had an angel and she had . . .
My mouth drops open.
Nancy just gapes.
Jody continues to stare.
Suzan . . . Suzan waits. Yeah, she knows what will happen . . . eventually.
I see in Jody’s eyes the exact second when she realizes that she’s holding a purple vibrator up in the middle of a booth in a crowded restaurant.
Her eyes grow round as quarters; her mouth goes a little slack. She throws the penis back in her box. And slams the lid down.
And Nancy and I do what I’m sure all of you would have done.
We immediately start digging around in our boxes, removing tissue, searching to see if we’d missed our own penises.
Yup, Nancy and I have a serious case of purple penis envy. Jody continues to hold her hand on the top of the box, it almost looks as if she’s afraid the thing might try to escape. But in reality, we all know what’s going on. She’s afraid we’ll take it from her.
Hey, we couldn’t help it. It was a really nice penis. I personally think a couple of men sitting at the next table had penis envy. Yeah, we were getting quite a few looks.
Then Suzan, managing to hold a straight face, says to Jody, “Remember the time we were looking at the erotica basket at conference and you whined that you’d never had a purple penis? Well, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t afford to buy you the 12-inch, but it has adjustable speeds.”
That’s when it happened.
We all lose it and start to laugh, not the snickering, or proper lady-like kind of laughs, but those deep laughs that come straight from your toes.
We laugh until several of us have tears in our eyes.
We laugh until all the heavy burdens in our lives seem less like insurmountable burdens and more like things we can and will overcome.
And we stayed at that restaurant for almost four hours reveling in each other’s company.
You know, in this life we’ll all stumble across tough times, but those times can be a lot easier to deal with if you have friendships, laughter, and sometimes even a purple penis.
So what about you guys? Do you have good friends that you share your burdens and laughter with? And because I just had a release, I’m giving away . . . No, it’s not a purple penis. It’s a Shadow Falls T-shirt and an e-copy of Born at Midnight, my first book in the series. Just leave a comment by midnight CDT on October 15th!
This incident happened three years ago. So much has happened to all of us since then, including Christie hitting the NYT Bestseller List in her alter-ego, YA author C.C. Hunter.
Here's the blurb for her latest Shadow Falls book, Whispers at Moonrise!
Shadow Falls Camp is back in session with the most explosive installment yet. A shocking new threat will rock Shadow Falls—changing it forever and altering Kylie’s journey in ways she never imagined.
Even at a camp for supernatural teens, Kylie Galen has never been normal. Not only can she see ghosts, but she doesn’t seem to belong to any one species—she exhibits traits from them all. As Kylie struggles to unlock the secrets of her identity, she begins to worry that Lucas will never be able to accept her for what she is, and what she isn’t…a werewolf. With his pack standing in their way, Kylie finds herself turning more and more to Derek, the only person in her life who’s willing to accept the impossible.
As if life isn’t hard enough, she starts getting visits from the ghost of Holiday, her closest confidante. Trouble is, Holiday isn’t dead…not yet anyway. Now Kylie must race to save one of her own from an unseen danger before it’s too late—all while trying to stop her relationship with Lucas from slipping away forever. In a world of constant confusion, there’s only one thing Kylie knows for sure. Change is inevitable and all things must come to an end…maybe even her time at Shadow Falls.
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