Time to Say Goodbye

Authors write great prose we remember long after the book has been set on a shelf. Songwriters express the trauma with meaningful lyrics we hum for months, even years. Saying goodbye is a constant in our lives. Sometimes the end is coupled with sadness and pain. Other times it’s a euphoric feeling because the stress is gone.  

It’s inevitable there will be such a moment for us all and seems to happen when least expected. Lovers part, friendships fade, our children move on, and family members leave us. Yet we hang on, not wanting to let go Is it easier when you cut the tie? It is for me.  

FRENCH TICKLER book five, and the last, in my Naughty Ladies of Nice series is now available and my heart aches for dark and brooding Cisco along with Samantha and her smart mouth. How I miss their tension dealing with a murderer and Mafia kingpin.  

I think of passionate Henri and strong willed Rachel from FRENCH KISS, book four, and the fun we had on the beach when she woke in the arms of a pirate. 

FRENCH TWIST, book three, brought stoic Don who realized there was much more to life than accounting when Interpol agent Claudette involved him with the Russian mob. The terror we shared on the Eiffel Tower still thrills me. 

And what happened to Paul and his magnificent striptease that had Lisette hotter than a four alarm fire in FRENCH DELIGHTS, book two, which I can’t get the cover to post here?

And the one that started my road to heartbreak is FRENCH TART. Along with party girl Doni and buns of steel Mark, we proved that cooking class took on a whole new meaning when they discovered honey had better uses than sweetening tea.  

But do they ever think of me? Do they care that I miss them? Want them to at least acknowledge I was once a part of their lives? Probably not now that they’re out in the world, out amongst readers who laugh and cry as their stories unfold. I am forgotten, deleted from their minds faster than an unwanted computer virus. 

Of the nine books I’ve written and had published, not one of my babies, my children I slaved to create, ever thanked me or cared enough to visit.  

But I really can’t complain. I did recently receive an email from a lady who said God had sent me to her. Perhaps I’m confusing her with the Foreign Princess who emailed that her royal family had perished and she needed my help. All I had to do was give her my bank account number along with a few other pertinent facts and she would deposit thousands of dollars in my account so she could safely come to America. Of course she would split the funds with me for making it all possible. 

What could I say to these people I couldn’t say to the characters who stole my heart? For once it was easy. Goodbye! 

Sloane Taylor

Sweet as Honey…Hotter than Hell

www.sloanetaylor.com

Teddi Turns On 2009 EPPIE Finalist – Erotica www.aspenmountianpressc.om

French Tickler www.eternalpress.ca