Seventeen Years — How the Heck Did We Get Here?

Seventeen Years — How the Heck Did We Get Here?

Today my husband and I are celebrating seventeen years of marriage. Which feels weird. It doesn’t feel like we’ve been married that long, but then again it also feels feel like I’ve known him all of my life. Yesterday someone commented that marriage longevity was almost unheard of these days. We both laughed it off and counted off celebrity marriages that didn’t last more than five years. So it got me thinking about how the Swede and I have managed to keep our marriage strong, even when dealing with the wacky cultural differences and my general grumpiness–yes, I think I am pretty similar in temperament to a Border Terrier. I am cute and cuddly and grumpy. But I digress! I think I’ve come up with 5 reasons that–after over twenty years of being a couple and seventeen of them being married–the Swede and I work so well together.
1. We don’t live in each other’s pocket
Even when we first met and we were sometimes attached at the hip (and the lip), we gave each other space. I have my moments when all I want to do is read or write. Or when I am moody and just want to be alone. The Swede is the same. He needs his personal space, and I give it to him. Just because we’re married doesn’t mean that we can’t have separate interests. And I think this is a mistake a lot of couples make. They don’t give each other personal space. And just as every relationship needs quality time together, it also needs quality time apart. Sometimes I go on vacation by myself, he does the same. When we’re together again, we feel recharged.
2. Mutual respect
We respect one another. Even when we’re driving each other crazy, we always respect one another. Even when we’re angry at one another, we don’t intentionally say or do anything to hurt one another. I admire his intelligence and his integrity. I love that he stands up for what he believes in and that he always makes me feel like I am the most important person in his life. Whenever I am about to make an important decision, I always think about the impact it will have on both of us–and not simply on myself. And though we may both joke about our celebrity “free cards”, we both know we only want each other.

Our free cards
3. We talk it out
There are those moments when we misunderstand one another or we get into huge arguments. I won’t even pretend that we never fight. We do, just like everyone else. It took us a few years to figure out a good way to come back from those horrible moments. And now we talk it out. Sometimes I rant and he just waits patiently (he is a very patient man). Sometimes I have to wait a long time for him to verbalize what is bothering him–he’s Swedish, they don’t like confrontations or arguments, so this is kind of new for him. But we try to talk everything out and we NEVER go to bed angry at one another.

anigif_enhanced-9260-1396299187-22 talk
4. We make each other laugh
The Swede is a consummate goofball and I absolutely adore that about him. Though he may look stern and serious (Swedes have mastered this look–just watch any Swedish film: Max von Sydow, Stellan Skarsgård…even Alexander Skarsgård–they’ve all mastered that stern look), he will say and do things just to catch my off guard and set me off into a fit of giggles. And I do the same for him. We spend a lot of time laughing. Lately, we keep making each other laugh with our impression of the now iconic Peter Dinklage SNL skit, Space Pants. Yup, we never get enough of Space Pants.

5. Love above all else
At the end of the day, it’s all about love. I know that I love him, and he loves me. And I can’t imagine sharing my life with anyone else.


A little taste of Maybe Tomorrow

A little taste of Maybe Tomorrow

MaybeTomorrowCoverMaybe Tomorrow is a standalone novel in my Maybe… series. This time the story focuses on Henrik–Mads’s cousin–and Eddy–Laney’s cousin–and what happens when sparks fly between them one Sankt Hans aften in Copenhagen. Maybe Tomorrow will be available later this spring (I promise). Add it to your TBR list on Goodreads.  


“You know, we’ve met before,” he said as he lit my cigarette for me. “Twice before, actually.”

He had the most beautiful hands I’d ever seen. Long, elegant fingers. They looked as though they could just as easily play a piano sonata as sculpt a work of art.

“Have we?” I took a quick drag from my cigarette and pretended to watch the other wedding guests. Really I was giving him a quick once-over. Of course, I remembered him. How could I forget someone so tall and attractive? Especially after our Midsummer weekend. But I’d pretended all day I hadn’t remembered, that the alcohol and the crushing hangover that followed had erased every trace of that weekend.

“When Laney had Liv. We met at the hospital.” Now he paused to light his own cigarette. He took a long, slow drag and then exhaled as if he were savoring every ounce of smoke sliding from between his parted lips. I glanced away. “Granted, I wasn’t there long. I had to leave for the airport—”

“Where were you going?”

“What? Oh! To Spain. My parents moved there when they retired, and I’d promised I’d spend part of Christmas with them.”

“I don’t remember us meeting there.”

“No, well, Mads introduced us very quickly before he rushed off to be with Laney and the baby.”

I nodded, but it didn’t ring a bell. I remembered waiting in the hall with Mads’s grandmother. She was so excited—she kept telling me about how it had been the night Mads was born, how his father had sat with his head in his hands and sobbed, unable to digest the reality that he was now a father. I’d held Alma’s hand and smiled at her reminisces. I could still remember how she beamed when Mads came out to tell us the baby was okay, that she was breathing on her own but that she would have to be in ICU for a while. When I asked him about Laney, he was still shaking and he had to sit down. I could barely hear him when he murmured, “Min elskede Laney er okayj. Jeg troede, jeg kunne miste den begge…Åh gudskelov, hun er okay.” I have a vague recollection of other people being there, of crying and the all-consuming relief that Laney and the baby had made it through, but I couldn’t remember anyone else than Mads and Alma.

“Were you there when Mads told us about the emergency C-section?”

“I was…” Henrik flicked some ashes on the pale gravel. He laughed and shook his head. “I was sitting right beside you.”

“And the second time?”

“Midsummer…you stayed at my house. We…” He paused as if considering his next words. I wanted to apologize for pretending not to remember him when we both knew I was lying. But he saved me by nodding in the direction of the party and saying, “I think our bride and groom are going to have their first dance.”


Ode to Tea Scones

Ode to Tea Scones

Lately, I’ve had a craving for tea scones. I suppose it has something to do with that wacky weather we’ve had in Stockholm. One day freezing cold, the next day spring-like. It makes me want comfort food. And sometimes the only thing that will do is a plate of scones with cream cheese or whipped cream (since it’s not very easy to find clotted cream in Stockholm) and strawberry preserves. Last week I baked twelve scones. They were quick to whip together and were so fluffy and yummy-crummy. And now I want to bake more.

Not my scones, but don't they look yummy? (Photo credit: BBC Food)

Not my scones, but don’t they look yummy? (Photo credit: BBC Food)

Now, tea scones don’t taste much different from the buttermilk biscuits my grandmother used to make. And probably they’re the same thing, just with different names on either side of the pond. The first time I had scones was in London. In fact it was during my very first trip to London. The hubster and I went to Fortnum & Mason’s to pick up marmalade and tea (we were addicted to them even though we were pretty broke back then) , and then we saw their café and we knew we had to try their scones. So we splurged and had afternoon tea. It was wonderful. We were both in heaven. We didn’t really care about the sandwiches…we only wanted scones. And we gobbled them down with plenty of clotted cream (sheer bliss!) and strawberry jam.

And soon they became our obsession.

We tried to make our own. Sometimes they came out perfectly…other times, not so great. I experimented with them–baking them with dried cranberries or saffron or blueberries. They didn’t really do it for me. Eventually we realised we were over-complicating the recipe and found a very simple one that always delivered great results. You see, I’ve come to the realisation that I don’t need fancy scones. I don’t need them with white chocolate or orange zest or whatever other things some people like in their scones. I am a bit of a traditionalist. I just want plain ol’ scones with lots of cream and jam.

Screen Shot 2016-01-28 at 22.09.27

Still not mine, but doesn’t it make you hungry? Mmm….scones! (Photo credit: unknown)

Now that I am talking about scones, I am craving them again. I think I will have to bake another tray. A girl needs scones. Especially when she is trying to finish her novel. 😉

My Signature for the Blog


Why dress like a Parisian when I can dress like me? Five wardrobe items I love!

Why dress like a Parisian when I can dress like me? Five wardrobe items I love!

I am a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl. Always have been, probably always will be. But there is this part of me that wishes I could be more put-together. You know–like all those stylish Scandinavian girls I see everyday or those über-effortlessly chic French girls we hear about all the time. Every now and then I tell myself that I will do as they do: stop eating carbs, do Bikram yoga and get manis/pedis every week. And then I laugh and have another glass of wine or a pastry and don’t bother spending time putting together outfits.

Photo credit:

So chic…and yet…it would require far too much planning and too few carbs. Photo credit:

My closet is overflowing with clothing bought on a whim and yet very few items actually speak to me or scream, “Wear me!” And I end up back in my t-shirt and jeans. Or my sweater and jeans–depending on the season.

But I do know there are five items that I wear fairly often and that I love. So I may never be as chic as a Parisian or as on-trend as so many of these Stockholm girls, but I can feel comfortable in my own skin and really that is what is most important.

Girlfriend jeans from H&M+.

Girlfriend jeans from H&M+. Photo credit:

My favourite jeans

I may love my skinny jeans, but sometimes what I want are a pair of slim-cut jeans that don’t feel super-tight. These girlfriend jeans from H&M+ fit perfectly without having too low of a rise or squeezing my thighs like sausage casing. I love these jeans. I love them so much that I bought four pairs that I rotate. I am going to buy one more pair just in case.

My only complaint is that H&M seems to think we only want black jeans. I would love to have these in indigo and stonewash…and why not white for summer?

I can’t be the only woman who loves these jeans. I think I will send H&M another email suggesting more shades…:)

Sooner or later they will listen to me, right?


I love stripes! Striped boatneck sweater from H&M+. Photo credit:

I love stripes! Striped boatneck sweater from H&M+. Photo credit:

A stripey, boatneck sweater

I love stripes. I own far too many pairs of striped socks. I also love boatneck sweaters. Well, I love sweaters. Period. And this one, another gem from H&M+, has been a staple of my autumn/winter wardrobe. I usually wear my favourite white t-shirt under it. This sweater looks great with jeans, leggings, joggers, you name it.

I wear it at least once or twice a week. My colleagues must wonder if I don’t own any other sweaters…but this is one of my favourites. I will cry the day it goes to sweater heaven. It’s just so cozy and so easy to wear. And I like easy. I hate clothing that feels overly fussy or that is more trouble than it’s worth to wear. If it requires I wear Spanx just to look good in it, then it isn’t in my closet. And this sweater just looks good. No Spanx needed.


A new type of hightop sneaker

Soft 7 hightop sneakers from Ecco. So comfy!  Photo credit:

Soft 7 hightop sneakers from Ecco. So comfy! Photo credit:

A few years ago, I tore a ligament in my left foot. Even though it’s healed, it has affected which sort of shoes I can wear nowadays. High heels are no longer part of my shoedrobe (even though I still drool over them) and shoes that are too flat can also be a bit annoying. So as much as I love my Converses (and who doesn’t love Chucks???), these  Soft 7 high tops from ECCO are more comfortable and I like the look of them.

It took a day or two to break them in, but now they are like butter.


A vee-neck t-shirt? Yup! Photo credit:

A vee-neck t-shirt? Yup! Photo credit:

Vee-neck t-shirts are never wrong

I already told you I was a t-shirt kind of girl and I own this t-shirt in grey, white, black and rose. Whenever H&M+ offers it in a new shade, I buy it. Why? Because it doesn’t cling and it looks great and I can wear it under my favourite sweaters or as it is.

I think they used to make it in a long sleeve model, but now it’s only available as a short sleeve tee, which is fine. I wish they’d make it in olive green or red…that would make my day. Maybe another email hinting at more shades?

Hey…isn’t the customer always right? 😉 And–admit it–that t-shirt would look great in red.


Striped socks! Another obsession! Photo credit:

Striped socks! Another obsession! Photo credit:

You can never have too many pairs of socks

Did I mention I have a thing about stripes? I love striped socks. I probably own too many pairs of striped socks, but I don’t care. They’re my thing. And socks are important. They should be soft. They should not glide down under your heel–which is annoying. They should not get holes in them the very first day you wear them. They should just…work.

I don’t really care which brand of socks I wear–as long as they are comfortable. When I am in the US, I stock up on socks since I can often find striped socks there in a multitude of colors. In Sweden, I am usually limited to black-and-white…unless I turn to Happy Socks or Bleuforêt.


So simple! I don’t even have to waste any time worrying about if this matches that or if it makes my ass look big (it’s big anyway, so who cares?) or whatever. I get dressed, I go. I’m comfortable. I feel like me and I can focus on other things–like which books I should get for my Kindle or if I should write another story about the delectable Mads. So much more important than pretending to be a French girl. I’ve already started clearing out my closet and donating all the clothes I don’t really like to charity.

Someone else will get more use out of them. I will stick to my staples.

Dark days in Sweden…and trying to be thankful

Dark days in Sweden…and trying to be thankful

Screen Shot 2015-11-26 at 21.40.12

Sweden’s deputy prime minister and prime minister announcing Sweden can no longer handle the stream of asylum seekers.

Yesterday was a sad day in Sweden. Our prime minister, Stefan Löfven, announced that we could no longer handle the number of refugees who’ve come seeking asylum. As the announcement was made, our deputy prime minister was in tears. On the other side of the political spectrum, the far-right party, Sveriges Demokraterna (who are not very democratic, considering its connection with neo-Nazis) celebrated the news as though they were celebrating New Year’s Eve.

I shouldn’t be surprised. They have no love for anyone who is not Swedish–and by Swedish, they don’t simply mean Swedish citizenship. If you are not white, if you cannot prove you are an über-Swede, then they have no use for you. They claim they don’t hate immigrants, but all they do is demonise immigrants and claim we are the root of all Sweden’s evils.

Today is a day when I should be thankful. And, in many ways, I am. I have a roof over my head. I have a job. I am loved. I don’t have to worry about where I will sleep at night. Everyday when I am on my way to work, I pass by homeless people selling Situation Stockholm, EU migrants from Romania who are trying to find work or get money to send home… Stockholm keeps rolling. People keep streaming into department stores buying things they don’t really need, stressing over Christmas presents or whether their smart phone is the smartest of them all. Some give their time and energy to help charities. Others devote their spare time to how they look or who they know. And me? I write. It gets me through the dark winter months.

But right now, I find myself thinking about the people who need help and wonder why I am so lucky.

Screen Shot 2015-11-26 at 21.18.53

Refugees arriving in Sweden at Hyllie station. Photo credit:

The stream of people fleeing war, searching for a safe haven, are not the enemy. People like the men and women in Sveriges Demokraterna or the people who cheer on Donald Trump would have us think that the asylum seekers are terrorists or that they want to take everything from us. I refuse to believe they want to take anything from us. I am sure there are people who think I am naive.

The Donald Trumps of the world would say I am part of the problem because I empathize.

Screen Shot 2015-11-26 at 21.28.34

My colleague, Åsa, who is one of the selfless volunteers helping refugees arriving in Europe.

But I know that–if I were in the same shoes as the asylum seekers, if I were fleeing war, I would want to come to a country like Sweden or Denmark or Germany or…*anywhere* where I could feel safe and hope that I could find shelter.

So I keep telling myself that–in spite of what the politicians say–there are still good people in this world who will keep doing everything they can to help–people like my friend and colleague Åsa Swee who volunteers her time at Stockholms Stadsmission and who’s gone to Greece and helped refugees arriving on European shores. I am thankful that people like her are shining a light even on these dark days. I am glad there are people like her who never give up hope and who keep doing what they can to help others–even when the darkness of far-right anti-immigrant rhetoric threatens all the places that should be safe havens.

I know we cannot help everyone, but we can at least try.







Spooky Tunes for Halloween

Spooky Tunes for Halloween

Screen Shot 2015-10-27 at 16.23.49I love Halloween! Love spooky ghost stories and things that go bump in the night, love watching Jack Nicholson go bonkers in the Shining. I couldn’t wait to go to the supermarket (weren’t many pumpkin patches in West Philly) and pick out a pumpkin so I could make a jack o’ lantern. And I’d make Halloween decorations to hang in the windows and on the front door. I think my parents were amused by my Frankenstein and Dracula ornaments. They’d usually leave them up until it was time to start decorating for Christmas. I would tell my little brother scary stories or try to convince him that Michael Meyers from the Halloween films lived in the boiler room in our basement–I think he actually believed me one year. He certainly avoided going downstairs for a few weeks.

In the days leading up to Halloween were when I’d buy crazy tapes with spooky sounds and Halloween-themed songs. Kitschy, I know…but I was a kid and this sort of thing was allowed. 🙂 I still get a kick out of some of those goofy songs like “Monster Mash”.

Nowadays, my Halloween music taste runs more toward Bauhaus’ “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” or “Burning from the Inside”.

I also like singing along to the Ramones’ “Pet Semetary”, Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves in London” or the Specials’ “Ghost Town”.


I’m looking forward to Halloween this year. I think I’ll have a binge-watch of the Walking Dead. And there will definitely be a ton of Bauhaus playing as I hand out candy to the neighborhood kids.

What will you be listening to for Halloween?

My Signature for the Blog

Counting the Days Until Sleepy Hollow Returns

Counting the Days Until Sleepy Hollow Returns

Screen Shot 2015-09-27 at 07.55.21I admit it–I am a Sleepyhead…errr….a Sleepy Hollow fan. Not the Tim Burton film starring Johnny Depp and Christina Ricci (though it did entertain me)–I mean the TV show starring the always awesome Nicole Beharie and yummy-scrummy Tom Mison. For the uninitiated, Sleepy Hollow is about what happens when Ichabod Crane suddenly finds himself in modern-day Sleepy Hollow and must continue his fight against the Headless Horseman (and other forces of evil) with Abbie Mills, a police detective whose past intertwines with Ichabod’s.

I’ve been a Sleepyhead since Day One. I loved the thrills and chills (and there were plenty of them). I had to wait a while to see it on Swedish TV– and blasted TV 3 Sverige kept changing the day and time and then eventually the channel it was even broadcast on. But I persevered because I loved the chemistry between Mison and Beharie and the plot was so much fun. I loved to hate Katie Winter as Katrina and I totally shipped #Ichabbie.

Then Season Two came and it seemed like the show runner was intentionally pissing off all of us viewers. Ichabod was behaving like a pod person, suddenly he and Abbie were barely on screen together and it was all about Katrina–who was the MOST BORING character on the show. While she hogged up airtime strutting around in skinny jeans, boots and a corset and talking in a ridiculously breathy voice, the ratings tanked and the only people who were happy were the ones who thought Ichabod and Katrina were meant to be.  They killed off one of our favourite characters, Frank Irving (played by the always wonderful Orlando Jones), introduced a completely useless character called Nick Hawley (played by Matt Barr) and turned Abbie’s sister Jennie (played by Lyndie Greenwood) into the Third Wheel who does nothing very useful for an entire season. The rest of us were grumpy and bored. I’ve got my theories about why it happened (even in this day and age–despite shows like Scandal and How to Get Away with Murder essentially paving the way, some networks will shy away from interracial relationships because they are afraid of offending people–and Ichabod is in love with Abbie, we Ichabbies know this. Ichabod has even admitted it through his words and his actions). In the meantime, the original show runner jumped ship and left for another show and the network decreed that Sleepy Hollow would return to its roots–the core relationship between Ichabod and Abbie and more episodic storytelling. For a while we all cheered.

Screen Shot 2015-09-27 at 08.18.07

Season Three starts on Thursday, 1 October,  in the US. Since TV 3 Sverige no longer airs Sleepy Hollow, I will have to use Hulu to watch it and will be a week behind seeing the season premiere. Over the summer we heard the new show runner was introducing a new former flame for Ichabod (Betsy Ross, who will be played by Twilight’s Nikki Reed) and that Pandora (to be played by Shannyn Sossamon) is also joining as a recurring character. Now those of us who ship Ichabbie were happy for a while…and then we found out they’re introducing Lance Gross to play a character called FBI agent Daniel Reynolds, Abbie’s former flame from her Quantico days. So…we’ve gone from focusing on the core relationship between Ichabod and Abbie to bringing in former flames? Well, I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

Screen Shot 2015-09-27 at 08.16.47

So am I happy that Sleepy Hollow is returning? You betcha! I just want the spirit of the first season to return. And I hope the showrunner won’t be a wuss when it comes to allowing whatever feelings Ichabod and Abbie have for one another to be shown. Well, all a girl can do is wait. 🙂

I’ll be watching. Will you?

My Signature for the Blog



Summer moved on…or how a-ha pretty much summed up Swedish summer

After two weeks of sticky summer heat in New York and Philadelphia, I’m back in Stockholm–where it’s already beginning to look and feel like autumn. Yes, you heard me correctly–it’s beginning to look and feel like autumn…and it’s only the first week of August. The sunlight is already paler than it was a few weeks ago (when we had it, since it was raining nearly every day). The air is noticeably cooler. The foliage on some of the trees dotting the hillside behind my apartment building is already beginning to turn from green to red. Summer just feels like it eluded Sweden. And now it’s already moving on.

And that reminds me of two songs by a-ha. Yes, those cute Norwegian guys who brought us everyone’s favourite 80s song, “Take on Me”. They made a lot of other really great songs too, but the only one most Americans remember is “Take on Me” — probably because of its catchy tune and iconic video.

But right now, there are two songs by A-ha that pretty much sum up what this summer has been like in Sweden: “The Sun Always Shines on TV” and “Summer Moved On”.  Admittedly, we’ve had a few good days of sunshine but they were few and far between. Here’s to hoping that next summer is better.




My Signature for the Blog

Can *anything* replace Hannibal for me…?

Can *anything* replace Hannibal for me…?

Screen Shot 2015-07-02 at 06.01.03

I’m not really sure how I became a fannibal. Back in the old days, if you’d asked me about Silence of the Lambs, I would have told you I thought it was a great film and that I loved the pairing of Jodie Foster and Anthony Hopkins. Is it a film I watch whenever it’s on TV? No, well..I won’t watch the entire movie because it doesn’t captivate me the way it used to. When it was first released, I saw it on the big screen and I remember thinking Anthony Hopkins was awesome as Hannibal Lecter. I thought no one else could do that role justice.

I was wrong.

Screen Shot 2015-07-02 at 06.14.53

Danish actor, Mads Mikkelsen

Enter Danish actor Mads Mikkelsen. Now, I’ve been living in Scandinavia for twenty years, so I was used to seeing him on TV and in films. Usually he outshone the actors he shared the screen with, but I wasn’t a rabid Mads Mikkelsen fan. I thought he was a good actor. I thought he picked smart roles to play. I never pictured him as Hannibal Lecter. When he took his first Hollywood role (which I think was as Tristan in the dreadful Clive Owen vehicle, King Arthur), I worried he’d be typecast. He’s not conventional looking. He doesn’t look like your typical leading man. So even if he goes over well as the romantic lead in Scandinavian films, his intensity and his quirky looks aren’t going to win over the housewife in Tupelo or the college girls in Cleveland who want someone like young Brad Pitt to scream over. Mads Mikkelsen broods….he exudes that Scandinavian stillness that most Americans find incredibly uncomfortable–and he’s amazing at playing characters who are not always likeable but who have charisma, which is probably why he’s been typecast as the villain in US films such as Casino Royale and Clash of the Titans).

I think it’s that Scandinavian stillness and his ease at playing morally questionable characters (let’s face it, he’s played a long string of very flawed characters) that made him the ideal actor to play Hannibal Lecter. I will admit, I was skeptical initially. I couldn’t envision him in the role. Before the show even aired, I remember telling a friend that Mikkelsen could never step into Anthony’s Hopkins shoes.

Yes, I know…I was wrong.

From the first episode, I was hooked. I love how creeped out I get while watching it–yet I can no longer sit through most horror films. The episodes are beautifully shot–even the most gruesome images are like these works of art–his suits are impeccable, the entire cast is amazing and the scripts are so intelligent, so clever. Perhaps that’s why NBC couldn’t handle Hannibal? It’s just too clever and intelligent… I mean, other shows that have as huge of a fan base as Hannibal stick around, even with lousy ratings. And Hannibal‘s ratings weren’t dismal. The critics loved Hannibal–it was the thinking man (or woman’s) type of show.

I guess that is the crux of the problem.

Screen Shot 2015-07-02 at 06.33.02My former homeland celebrates ignorance and mediocrity these days. Shows like Hannibal don’t connect with people who would drool over Real Housewives of Atlanta or whatever other reality hell is now currently America’s favourite show.

So now I sit here wondering…what can possibly fill the void left by Hannibal once Season Three ends? I already watch Gotham. I never miss an episode of Game of Thrones. Maybe I will start binge-watching the reboot of Battlestar Galactica again. It’s filled many a dull evening.

But I don’t think anything will sustain me quite like Hannibal…it truly did feed my fear. I hope Bryan Fuller succeeds in finding a new home for the show. Until then, I have seasons 1 and 2 on DVD (yes, I still watch DVDs on my Blu-Ray player) so I can at least binge-watch those if the summer rains return to Stockholm.

But Hannibal will be like the one who got away. Or the bad boy who stalked off into the sunset…though in a perfectly cut suit and probably looking for something (or someone) to pair with fava beans and Chianti or Sangiovese.

Just a taste of Maybe Forever – the Maybe… series

Just a taste of Maybe Forever – the Maybe… series


Maybe Forever 200 x 300

Maybe Forever – Book 3 in the Maybe… Series by Kim Golden

Purchase links






Excerpt from Maybe Forever
At some point I remember we lost our way. We could not remember which street would lead us back to our bed and breakfast. It was late and we’d had far too much chianti classico with our bistecca fiorentina. We ducked down alleys and side streets, looking for the entrance to the house but never finding it and that early spring night…when the air was so warm it felt like summer, though the Florentines were still bundled in down jackets… Mads gathered me in his arms in a deserted side street and kissed me so long and hard my knees buckled. I remember telling him how I wanted him to be the last man I ever made love to… and the smile that spread across his lips—so quick, so intense—made me fall even harder. His hands slid along my hips, gathering the folds of my skirt and spreading my legs with his thigh… I managed to stop him before we went too far… but I was so far gone, every fiber of me was attuned to this longing and wanted nothing more than for him to push me against a wall and lock my legs around him so he could take me… but I stopped him and laughed as I straightened my skirt and led him down one twisting street after another until we finally managed to find our little inn.
That night, we hung the “Do Not Disturb” sign on our door and we made love until our bodies were sore and too sensitive… and still we wanted more. I remember how we tried to be quiet whenever someone passed our room. I’d bite my lip and try to hold in the brazen longing, Mads buried his face in my neck as his fingers dug into my hips and held me still. The brass bed squeaked and groaned with each thrust… and all I knew was that my body screamed out to be touched and stroked and penetrated. His hair was longer then, and I remember how I raked my fingers through those red-gold strands and gripped him and we kept our eyes locked on one another… I came so hard, and a few minutes later so did he…and when afterwards I twined my arms around him and he was murmuring to me in Danish that being inside of me was like coming home, I had this sensation that something monumental had just happened… I wasn’t sure what, but I remembered how my body felt so attuned to Mads’s and how I almost felt like I could read his thoughts. My body was singing, I love you, I love every inch of you, I love you…and his body responded in kind.
Will love tear them apart...?

My Signature for the Blog