Tuesday, August 28, 2018

Why did I write about Men Behaving Badly in my book Ghost Lover by Liza O'Connor

Bad Boys are attracted to me and I don't have the sense to send them off, but I will not marry anymore of them, that is a certainty!

I call them Bad Boys, because they don't seem to ever grow up!

In my real life, my badly-chosen husband tried to kill me three times before I finally realized he wasn't just ignorant of dangers, but he was actually trying to get me to kill myself in a sporting accident.

I just thought him an idiot on attempt one and two. But on attempt three he showed his hand and the game was up.

You are probably wondering what I did to make my husband hate me so much.

Honestly, I don't think he hated me at all. We'd been getting along tolerably well since I didn't make a big issue about all his chickies. I did yell at him when I gave him $600 to buy a TV, since I worked and he didn't. Instead, he spent the money on something else, then when I got home, he yelled at me for not giving him enough money. I requested he give me back the $600 and I would buy the TV, since I knew where to buy it. Thus, he had to admit "he had lost" the money. Yeah, right....

Anyway, matters between us were not good that month because he remained angry at me when I refused to give him any more money to buy a tv.

Then I did something really stupid. I had received a $500,000 life insurance policy from my company. Stupidly, I told the JERK he was the benificiery.

And thus began his plots on ways to kill me that wouldn't fall back to him.

First, he decided we needed a vacation. So I got time off and we went to an east coast ski resort. I warned him I would need lessons because I had never skied before. 

"Sure no problem," he says.

When we arrive at the slopes, I reminded him I had to sign up for beginner lessons. Jerk complains about me wasting money and assured me he could teach me how to ski.

So instead of lessons, he takes me to the chairs that travel way up to the very top of the mountain. To explain how unprepared I was, I fell flat on my face, the moment I attempted to leave the chair. 

The guy manning the chair yelled at JERK for bringing me up there, since he had to shut down the chairs and move me to the side before he could restart them. Of course, Jim insisted I could ski. He pulled me further away from the guy in charge of the chairs and then told me how to ski. "Go straight down."

However, all the other skiers about us were not going straight down. They tended to weave back and forth, not straight down. So I ignored the JERK and attempted to follow the other skiers. That didn't work well either. I was constantly falling. Finally, I found a way to get down without killing myself. I would head off on a slight downward angle then when I got too close to the trees, I would intentionally sit down, then shuffle about to head across the narrow area of snow again. (This was a 3 black diamond run through a narrow channel between large trees. Excellent choice to kill me.)

I eventually made it down ALIVE but it was mostly by butt skiing. Jerk angrily demanded we go back up. I refused and told him to ski on his own. I was headed to the lodge, to drink hot cocoa for hours.


Since I refused to return to the ski slope, the Jerk chose his next best option: Cross County Skiing for experienced skiers only, no patrols section of a nearby mountain. I don't know what the JERK was thinking. Compared to the nightmare of yesterday, this was easy as pie. Also, there were nice people who would give me advice on improving my cross-country skiing. So I never fell once. I had a great time! 
The happier I got, the angrier JERK got.

Since I clearly was NOT going to kill myself cross-country skiing, he declared it was time to go home. So we left our vacation early.

A few months later, when the spring rains arrived, JERK wanted to go Kayaking  I had no idea what that was, but since it was in water, I was up for it. I spent much of my younger years on the water. I was certain I could handle anything in water. However, I did insist we take a course on how to kayak first. Oddly, JERK agreed. 

So off we went into the mountains and arrived at the rollocking river. I was in heaven, but Jerk seemed a bit worried. (Turns out he had never done this before.)
Given we were beginners, our first day wasn't on the river. We had to learn how to enter and leave the kayak and save one another before we could go down the river.

I had full control of my kayak from the very first. Jerk was a bit shaky. So I let him roll over first and  I promptly saved him. 

Now it was his time to save me. So I purposely flipped upside down and swept the sides of the kayak trying to find the nose of JERK's boat which I would use to flip myself back over. When I concluded the Jerk had no intention of saving me, I popped off the skirt, pushed out of the kayak, then swam out to the back side of the kayak so I could see what the hell JERK was doing.

And this is when I realized the JERK wanted me dead.

He was about ten feet away, his arms crossed on his chest, starring at my overturned kyack. His face was grim and determined. Finally, I understood. The JERK was trying to kill me.

Upon seeing my upside down kayak and the JERK doing nothing to save me, our instructor paddled like a maniac to reach my overturned kayak.

Finally, JERK moves, only to place his kayak directly in the instructor's path, delaying his effort to save me.

Had I not gotten out of the kayak long before, I would have drowned, but there was no possibility that I would just hang upside down and drown myself. I am a survivor. 

I made my presence known so the nice instructor wouldn't have a heart attack. Still, he yelled at JERK.

The next day, the instructor insisted I would be his partner on the river. I greatly appreciated it, because that way I could learn without any fear of dying. And I had a fabulous day. 

JERK had a terrible day. He kept rolling over due to the water in his kayak. All he needed to do was stand up and pour the water out. But none of the guides would tell him that. Instead, he floated down in a wobbly half-filled with water kayak, having a miserable time, while I discovered I loved kayaking!

When I returned to work on Monday, I changed the beneficiary on my life insurance. Then I broke the news to JERK that night that he was no longer the beneficiary. Then we had an argument.

I divorced him soon after. He even cried when I declared us DONE!

And while I had boyfriends going forward, I never married again. I concluded I had poor taste in men and I didn't want to risk a second murderer, for the next one might have been competent.

And here is how I used my no so near death fiasco to write a lovely, amusing story about boys behaving badly.

The story is about two brothers, one a bit grumpy, and the other a bit similar to the JERK, only nicer. Brandon likes to steal stuff, but he never tries to kill anyone.  As the story proceeds, my heroine keeps softening both the badly behaving brothers into better-behaving fellows. 

There is also a ghost lover from the past and a ghost cat who lives in their castle whether the brothers like it or not. At first, our heroine likes the ghosts far more than the two brothers, the worst of which she has, sadly, agreed to marry...just not yet...or perhaps ever.

While having the patience of a saint most of the times, when her temper breaks, it is most fierce.

Then midway through this story, matters get REALLY tangled. It's outrageous, fun, and loving and I hope you'll give it a try.

Here's an excerpt:

Senna woke to her breast beeping. Trying to make sense of the oddity, she pushed herself up to rest on her elbows and discovered the noise came from Brendon’s wristwatch. Somehow, his hand had found its way beneath her bra,
during the night, and now chirped like a baby chick.

She contemplated tearing his hand off at the wrist, but he looked so angelic with his curly dark hair framing his handsome face. With a heavy sigh, she unlatched her bra and eased his hand out, then gently shook him until his face scrunched into a pained grimace.

He groaned and frowned at his noisy watch. “This is a god-awful hour to be woken up,” he said in his sexy British accent. “Never bothers me when I’m coming home at this hour.”

Senna rolled her eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

Pushing himself up, he shook his head. “Remember the second night I came around? You kept yelling at me, ‘Did I realize it was four in the morning?’ At the time, I couldn’t understand your fuss.” He groaned and scratched his scalp. “Well, I certainly understand it now. It’s bloody hell to be woken at this ungodly hour.”

About Liza O'Connor
Liza lives in Denville, NJ with her dog, Jess. They hike in fabulous woods every day, rain or shine, sleet or snow. Having an adventurous nature, she learned to fly small Cessnas in NJ, hang-glide in New Zealand, kayak in Pennsylvania, ski in New York, scuba dive with great white sharks in Australia, dig up dinosaur bones in Montana, sky dive in Indiana, and raft a class four river in Tasmania. She’s an avid gardener, amateur photographer, and dabbler in watercolors and graphic arts. Yet through her entire life, her first love has and always will be writing novels. She loves to create interesting characters, set them loose, and scribe what happens.


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