In my early 20s I took up the sport of stadium jumping which combines the love of horses with a passion for trying to injure yourself in every way possible. They say you aren’t a true rider until you’ve fallen off ten times, but, unfortunately, I abused that rule many times over. Yes, I’m not a natural athlete. Actually, I’m dangerous enough on my own two feet judging by the multitude of mysterious bruises I always sport. Combine my lack of grace with an 1100 lb animal who may or may not be feeling amicable depending on its mood/weather/sense of humor, and all sorts of fun is bound to occur.
For those who aren’t familiar with what a good fall off a horse moving 15+ mph feels like, have someone drive your car while you sit on the hood. When they approach 15 miles per hour, have them slam on the brakes, and well, enjoy the rush to follow. Throw in a wooden obstacle like the one pictured above, and the joy multiplies.
One of my favorite stories is the time I got five stitches…in my butt. My mount, a smart little pinto mare named Bonnie, refused a jump. I did a lovely flip over her head and landed ass first on the jump, and managed to find the one freak nail sticking from it they’d missed pounding in. It ripped my jeans, so I had a gaping hole flashing my bright white right ass cheek, and of course a good deal of blood to add to the beauty of the moment. My instructor, ever the cool head, slapped a band aid on the gory wound, and let me go to the ER…after I rode the line (meaning a series of five jumps) two more times. So yes, the class consisting of several other riders, AND families/friends/employees all got to see my badonkadonk.
And it gets better. I arrive at the ER, and apparently if a young woman comes in with a questionable nail wound in her ass, not one female will be around to tend to her. I had a young man assess the wound, another young man flush the wound, another somewhat older male doctor stitch me up, another young man dress the wound, and a last young man assure the previous had dressed everything correctly.
I still bear the scar, and have the ripped jeans as a token of my determination. I have other war stories, a broken finger, the time I got knocked out, but I’ll save those for another day. I still ride, and have plans of taking up jumping once more. For anyone with horse fever, injury is acceptable and accepted as part of the illness we love so much
Olivia Starke
Zombies in Vegas: Book 1
Zombie loven
(Paranormal Erotica available at Decadent Publishing, Amazon, ARe, Smashwords)
Blurb: Dating a dead guy would be complicated and complications were one thing she liked to avoid...
Samantha Perry expected a fun weekend in Vegas, what she didn’t expect is the hottie she wakes up next to after a wild night of drinking. Tall, blue-eyed, and all American, Jake is the epitome of male virility—give or take the fact he lacks a heartbeat. But sometimes even the living impaired need a little lovin’.
And Jake has a big surprise in store for Samantha…
Excerpt: Some days it doesn’t pay to get out of bed, especially if you wake up with a corpse.
Her new companion had been the most watched man in the club, and Samantha Perry couldn’t help the sense of conquest when they stumbled into her hotel room. The room swayed and she had to clutch his shirt to stay on her feet.
“Watch out, baby.” His husky whisper brushed her ear, sending chills down her spine. “I think you’re a little drunk.”
She giggled. “You try walking in four-inch stilettos. I can barely manage these on the best of days.”
He chuckled. “Fair enough, but damn they’re sexy.”
Her hair clung around her shoulders, her blouse and jeans still damp. “How did I get so wet?” Her foggy memory offered no explanations.
“Such open ended questions you ask.” He captured her lips in a hot, distracting kiss. “So many answers I could give.”
He tugged the blouse over her head, pitched it aside, and placed his hands on her shoulders giving a gentle shove. She squealed, but luckily bounced, the bed breaking her fall.
She studied him, or tried to—her focus was a little off. “So what was it you were saying earlier, about the living dead something or other?”
Tugging her jeans off, he tossed them over his shoulder, drawing yet another giggle from Samantha. He gave her a lopsided grin. “You mean living while dead? We’ll have this discussion, but later.” He kissed her, his tongue pushing into her mouth, teasing her with short thrusts. “And I mean much, much later.”
Happy Birthday to the love of my life since I was teenager, Gambit who turned 19 04/09! To celebrate his birthday I’ll give Sweets & Swag to one lucky US commenter who leaves a comment with email!
Happy Birthday to Gambit - too, Sultry!
