As a Multiple Sclerosis patient, it has become necessary for me to reinvent myself. I have ... and continue to ... refuse to lie down and die, or in this case, follow the normally prescribed drugs and treatments that do nothing to defeat my disease. I am not only surviving by pursuing alternatives, I am thriving. I do the things specialists told me I would never be able to do. I walk and hope to one day even run regularly. I retain my cognitive and creative abilities for the pleasure of my readers. Although you may never see me on my daily walk, you are welcome to read my novel(s) and in doing so, come to ask yourself, "How can the 'out of the box' protocol she has followed, help my loved one with an autoimmune disease like Multiple Sclerosis?"


Sizzling Kiss Entry

He watched from the bar as she twirled on the dance floor. That sparkling red dress of hers had the most daring slits he had ever seen. Mark had told him that the girls in New York wouldn't be like the ones back home, but never in his wildest dreams had he expected to find one like her.

She strode straight over to him like a fish on his line. Her hips swayed with each step, her forward leg exposing itself as the shimmering fabric parted with her stride, her walk hypnotizing him until at last she was a breath away.

"This man wants to buy my next drink," she said to the bartender.

"What makes you so sure of that?" he asked her as his fingertips grazed over the ends of her volcanic red hair.

She leaned closer to him. His view of her cleavage had him half way to a coronary. "Tell me I'm wrong and I'll walk away. You aren't the only one here staring, you know."

"I've never known a lady brazen enough to presume that I'd buy her a drink."

"And I've never known a cowboy so bent on questioning my motives. Maybe you need to be branded." Her fingertips stroked the back of his neck. He gasped as a surge of heat rippled down his spine. He was about to flee, but then her lips were on his.

There was a sweetness that he had never tasted before. It put honey, sugar, and maple all to shame. Then there was the warmth. He could taste the memories of hot summer days riding across the back forty on Maggie, his first horse. Damn he had loved that mare!

His thoughts were decimated by yet another level of her kiss. Her body was pressed against his. He could feel her fingers on his bare chest as she forced his shirt open. The eyes of the crowd locked on them. She was like no woman he had ever known before.

Suddenly every last strand of hair on his body was rigid and upright. Little bolts of static shocks from her fingertips which circled his nipples appeared to be the cause. He wanted to pull away and make the pain stop. He wanted to button up his shirt and not be turned into a peep show for the oversexed city folk.

At least, that's what he kept trying to tell himself that he wanted. His body seemed to have abandoned the sense and reason of his mind. His hands had landed firmly on her rear and were prepared to defend this claimed territory for all it was worth, which was surely a lot because it was the most amazing set of cheeks.

His groping fueled her enthusiasm. Her kiss heated up even more. There was passion, energy, and power. This was not at all what it was like to kiss a mere woman. No, this was what it must be like to kiss a bolt of lightning.

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