I think we are being eaten alive by electronics. Society has taken such a shift as electronics has taken over our lives. Whatever did we do when we had a radio with two knobs and six stations and a television set where the box was bigger than the screen? How did we ever exist?
For one thing, we actually talked to each other. Real words. Now, I’m not against cell phone, I want you to understand that. I think they’re great for keeping in touch with home when you’re away from it. For contacting people lost in the same convention of more than a thousand people that you are. For checking up on kids, spouses and friends who need that contact. But now we have texting. OMG! It’s worse than drugs. Go anyplace with a teenage and they never even show their face to you. It constantly amazes me that my granddaughter can eat an entire meal without ever seeming to lift her thumbs from the little electronic unit in her hands.
My second pet electronic peeve is the automated voice response. Where have the days gone when a person actually answered the phone when you called a number and asked if they could help you? Now you have to push so many buttons before you get a live voice you might as well be practicing your texting. Sometimes I have this manic urge when I call someplace and finally get a human voiced to say, “You have reach (insert name). To continue this conversation press one. To provide information press two.”
And of course there is DirecTV. You actually have to be a technician yourself, able to fix your own television, before you can get a live person to talk to you. It’s cost effective that way, they say. Maybe, but it sure doesn’t do my blood pressure any good.
Today I had a problem with my ereader, so I called Sony. I got a very nice man who told me my ereader was frozen. Frozen? I didn’t put it in the refrigerator. Or the freezer. So how could it be frozen. He told me I can’t load more than five hundred books on its hard drive. Since I only have a hundred and sixty two I was pretty sure I was well within the safety zone.
Somehow we managed to communicate with each other enough for him to fix my problem. After that I immediately offered up every prayer I know that it wouldnl;t happen again.
And finally, my last pet peeve is the word “planned obsolescence.” Buy a telephone for sixty dollars, use it for a year. It breaks, you call the manufacturer and they say, “Sure, we’ll fix it. Just send it to us at your expense and we’ll get it taken care of for only fifty five dollars.” Are they crazy? For five dollars more I can get a new one! And the repairman tells me, “See, that’s what the company thinks, too. They want you to buy their bigger, newer, better product.” Which will be perfect…until it, too breaks.
So, how are you surviving in the world of electronics? Leave me a comment and you might win your choice of a book from my backlist.
Oh, and while you’re at it, here’s a little taste of my first Night Seekers book, Lust Unleashed. If you love alpha males and shapeshifters, meet Jonah Grey.
Jonah Grey is driven by a lust for the blood of the legendary Chupacabra who murdered the woman he was to mate with in a horrendous manner. He jumps at the offer to leave the FBI and join Night Seekers, a group of people dedicated to hunting and killing the devil beast. When a new killing is reported, Jonah is assigned to investigate. Following a track late one night, Jonah encounters comes upon a cabin where a woman lives alone. Through the window he sees her pleasuring herself and both his wolf and human senses are fully aroused. When he goes to question her there is such explosive chemistry between them that neither can turn away from it, and the sex that follows brings them to a level of pleasure neither has ever known before. He moves into her cabin dividing his time between tracking the Chupacabra and erotic bouts of orgasmic sex with Dakota. They form a bond that goes beyond the hot tumble in the sheets. She is even accepting of him when she sees him in his wolf form. But will she agree to mate with him and accept him full into her life? Is the beast they track and kill the real Chupacabra…or a fake, leaving the real beast to search for yet another prey?
Jonah leaned against the headboard of the bed, pillows propped behind him, and watched as Dakota opened a bottle of wine, poured the amber liquid into two glasses and carried them to the bed. They were both still completely naked and her body was fluid motion. Graceful. Artless. If he were an artist he’d want to paint her.
Her skin was a golden color and he noticed there were no tan lines. Out here in the middle of nowhere she could sunbathe nude without fear of prying eyes. Her breasts were high and firm, tipped by dusky nipples still hard from the attention of his mouth. Her dark hair cascaded down her back, wispy bangs drifting across her forehead. Thick lashes framed eyes blacker than night and high cheekbones defined the exotic quality of her face.
Her long legs moved easily around the room, the rounded globes of her ass tempting him as she turned her back to him. His cock swelled and hardened just watching her.
A tiny frisson of guilt raced through him as he realized he had given himself to this woman as completely as he had to Jenna. Would she see it as a betrayal? No, Jenna was a person who believed in giving completely, holding nothing back. Inexplicably he’d felt her spirit encouraging him, urging him to do this. But he feared the guilt would always be there, a barrier to a new relationship, until the devil beast was finally captured and killed.
“Heavy thoughts?” Dakota was standing beside the bed.
Jonah wiped everything from his mind but her naked presence. Something was pulling them together and he wasn’t about to throw it away. Somehow he’d deal with the inner turmoil of his conflicting emotions.
“Not too bad.” He curved his lips into a smile. “Thinking about you.”
“Here.” She handed him the wine. “I don’t usually drink this early in the day but today I’m making an exception. I thought it might be more appropriate than coffee.”
Jonah grinned. “I think all things considered it’s a good exception to make.”
He shifted to make room for her next to him, holding the wine with one hand and looping his other arm across her shoulders. The press of her body against his was like a lit match to his skin. God, how could he want this woman so fiercely when he barely knew her and they’d just had off-the-charts sex?
The word singed his brain. Forcibly he pushed it away. He was no longer in the market for a mate. Besides, he was sure if she saw him shift that would kill any relationship.
No! She believes in legends and the unusual. Don’t write this off.
He took a healthy swallow of his wine, hoping to derail his thoughts. He had a mission and he couldn’t lose sight of that, no matter how much he desired this woman or how fantastic the sex was.
“Would I sound too unsophisticated or cliché if I say I don’t usually do this?” she asked.
Jonah had to stop himself from chuckling. He was pretty sure she didn’t do this on a regular basis, considering her situation. And he was the one who practically attacked her. Shifters acted on their lust when it surged through him. He was just worried she’d think he made a regular habit of it.
“No worries.” His fingers drew circles on her shoulder. “I felt the heat between us and so did you. It’s all good.” When she didn’t say anything else, he asked, “So are you saying you don’t have any…relationships with men?”
“I’m saying I learned long ago to keep my urges to myself and live alone.”
Her voice was flat but he detected the undertone of pain. Someone had hurt her, badly. Or maybe several someones. A sense of protectiveness flared within him. Who would deliberately hurt an erotic flower like this? Who could be so cruel? But he could answer his own question. In his life, both personal and professional, he’d unfortunately seen all kinds of cruelty.
On impulse he reached for her hand and wound his fingers through hers, squeezing them gently. He was surprised when she gave him an answering compression.
She took a sip of her wine as if to distract them both from the conversation. “Tell me about the story you’re writing.”
Story? Oh, yeah. My cover.
“It’s actually a series for National Crime Magazine. My boss is fascinated by the legend of the Chupacabra. There have been so many conflicting stories. Each time a body’s discovered the interest flares up again. So I’m checking things out.”
“That’s all it is, you know. A legend. People have created this absurd story for publicity value. And to explain what they don’t have answers for.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You really think that?”
Dakota ran her fingertip around the rim of her glass. “This town’s really been crazy since the hunters’ bodies were found. Without any other resolution, it was natural for them to bring up the legend. But I don’t believe in it.”
(Copyright 2010, Desiree Holt.)