INTRODUCTION
Ah, love. A second chance. Oops, I mean third chance. Fourth? Well, who’s counting anyway?
Ah, love. How perfect! All you can think about is having someone to come home to at night. Someone who will wrap his arms around you and protect you from the outside world, singles bars, the boogey-man and crazy people. That special man who will hear your thoughts (after all, you do have wonderful thoughts!) and make all your dreams come true.
You can’t wait to tell your friends that you have found the One, can you? The world sees you in a different light now. You are headed down the aisle . . .
. . . Or is it a gauntlet?
It is likely that ever since the fateful night your eyes fixated on your Hunk of Burning Love, there have been numerous outbreaks of questions and concerns. Being a Last Wife, you know this is not His first rodeo. As you prepare to saddle up in your vintage Dale Evans fringe and ride off into the sunset with your cowboy, it is wise to know just how close the arrows are that are whizzing next to your scalp. Pull your sombrero closer to your ears, Amiga, this could be a wild ride!
To assume the coveted position of Last Wife, you will experience, at best, a mixed bag of comments with scattered compliments delivered by His menagerie of acquaintances and your well-meaning support groups. But beware, Besotted Beauty, of nefarious jabs piercing your newly formed love handles (acquired during your numerous love trysts). These pricks are likely the diabolical attempts of Camilla-like warfare on unwary Princess Diana—and they can hurt.
Thus, the purpose of this book, Cinderella, is to warn you that you will need your rubber galoshes as you walk in the sun holding his hand. Yes, the perfect day could end in a short, but torrential downpour and a maze of mud holes resembling the Everglades. Whether you choose to gingerly step over or around the sludge, or wade directly through the mire, it is best to prepare for the swamp.
You have entered the quagmire that a Last Wife often traverses in her celestial journey. The muddle can be quite offensive at times. However, keep in mind that mud is not all bad. It can also be a healing agent and a choice skin care product. Although you may feel soiled by the dirt that can cling to you during your courtship, just think how pure your skin will be upon peeling off the mud mask.
You might be dreaming of slinging your own retaliation pie. My advice is not to get stuck in the muck but to bask in the glow the mud afforded you! After all, Cinderella’s frock can be hand washed and look almost as good as new! And the rain boots—they are there to protect your crystal footwear.
O kay, Lover Girl. Your New Man has you startled, staggered, and swept off your feet! The store clerk caught you scooping up beauty tips and slipping Cosmo magazines under the milk and potatoes in your grocery cart. You are busy checking in at yoga studios to tighten your arm muscles and buttocks and announcing, “He may be The One” to anyone who will listen.
Lingering over martinis with one of your girlfriends, you can hardly breathe as she asks, “You have a New Man?”
Before you begin giddily describing your new Sweetheart, you secretly wonder what her reaction will be. Will she be delighted for me? Or search my purse during a bathroom break, steal his Facebook address and “friend” him, offering to meet him for coffee when it’s convenient?
But the news is so good you don’t care. This cannot wait. Besides, you have no reason to suspect treachery. None of your past losers have even merited a yawn from her, and you are so tired of her pity. Wait ’til she hears this !
“Well, tell me,” she coos, expecting another of your boring tales about the latest dud. You smugly smile and confess that there is so much to say you don’t know where to start! But both of you know you’ll try. Sex is first. You practically choke on your giggle. “He is so sexy—Angelina would leave
Ah, love. A second chance. Oops, I mean third chance. Fourth? Well, who’s counting anyway?
Ah, love. How perfect! All you can think about is having someone to come home to at night. Someone who will wrap his arms around you and protect you from the outside world, singles bars, the boogey-man and crazy people. That special man who will hear your thoughts (after all, you do have wonderful thoughts!) and make all your dreams come true.
You can’t wait to tell your friends that you have found the One, can you? The world sees you in a different light now. You are headed down the aisle . . .
. . . Or is it a gauntlet?
It is likely that ever since the fateful night your eyes fixated on your Hunk of Burning Love, there have been numerous outbreaks of questions and concerns. Being a Last Wife, you know this is not His first rodeo. As you prepare to saddle up in your vintage Dale Evans fringe and ride off into the sunset with your cowboy, it is wise to know just how close the arrows are that are whizzing next to your scalp. Pull your sombrero closer to your ears, Amiga, this could be a wild ride!
To assume the coveted position of Last Wife, you will experience, at best, a mixed bag of comments with scattered compliments delivered by His menagerie of acquaintances and your well-meaning support groups. But beware, Besotted Beauty, of nefarious jabs piercing your newly formed love handles (acquired during your numerous love trysts). These pricks are likely the diabolical attempts of Camilla-like warfare on unwary Princess Diana—and they can hurt.
Thus, the purpose of this book, Cinderella, is to warn you that you will need your rubber galoshes as you walk in the sun holding his hand. Yes, the perfect day could end in a short, but torrential downpour and a maze of mud holes resembling the Everglades. Whether you choose to gingerly step over or around the sludge, or wade directly through the mire, it is best to prepare for the swamp.
You have entered the quagmire that a Last Wife often traverses in her celestial journey. The muddle can be quite offensive at times. However, keep in mind that mud is not all bad. It can also be a healing agent and a choice skin care product. Although you may feel soiled by the dirt that can cling to you during your courtship, just think how pure your skin will be upon peeling off the mud mask.
You might be dreaming of slinging your own retaliation pie. My advice is not to get stuck in the muck but to bask in the glow the mud afforded you! After all, Cinderella’s frock can be hand washed and look almost as good as new! And the rain boots—they are there to protect your crystal footwear.
O kay, Lover Girl. Your New Man has you startled, staggered, and swept off your feet! The store clerk caught you scooping up beauty tips and slipping Cosmo magazines under the milk and potatoes in your grocery cart. You are busy checking in at yoga studios to tighten your arm muscles and buttocks and announcing, “He may be The One” to anyone who will listen.
Lingering over martinis with one of your girlfriends, you can hardly breathe as she asks, “You have a New Man?”
Before you begin giddily describing your new Sweetheart, you secretly wonder what her reaction will be. Will she be delighted for me? Or search my purse during a bathroom break, steal his Facebook address and “friend” him, offering to meet him for coffee when it’s convenient?
But the news is so good you don’t care. This cannot wait. Besides, you have no reason to suspect treachery. None of your past losers have even merited a yawn from her, and you are so tired of her pity. Wait ’til she hears this !
“Well, tell me,” she coos, expecting another of your boring tales about the latest dud. You smugly smile and confess that there is so much to say you don’t know where to start! But both of you know you’ll try. Sex is first. You practically choke on your giggle. “He is so sexy—Angelina would leave
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