Okay, in the context of this blog, you’re probably thinking I’m making an announcement about a new book deal. Wrong!

On May 3rd, I attended a Bachelor’s Auction in a nearby Arkansas town with a group of writer buddies—strictly for research purposes—uh huh. And all in the name of a good cause—to raise money for cancer research. The fact that 150 single-ish women were there to bid on 50 men didn’t have a thing to do with it. The fact most were liquored up and hooting while the men strutted their stuff was just glaze on a plain peach cobbler.

I took notes while a friend snapped pictures. All of us tested the margaritas—so that we could accurately describe the flavor.

The sponsors did manage to find at least two handsome men; the rest were the regular guys next door. One even strongly resembled the big guy from the Blue Collar Comedy show. I was very, very tempted. Something about beer guts and baseball caps gets me every time. Must be the secret redneck lurking in my soul.

Instead, my warped sense of humor got the best of me, and I found myself bidding on the most conservative judge in the county. Natch, I won the bidding war.

The judge and I had dinner last night—my prize. I sat across from him, a small mysterious smile on my lips, all the while chortling inside and wondering what he’d think if he knew a notorious erotica author was already planning a sexy tale in her mind that included a much younger version of him.

I’d love to hear your suggestions about the sort of story I should write.