Well. I have gone and committed to another boxed Downunder set with a Christmas theme, with a book that is barely written. Idiot much. Or doing my best work under pressure. Both, I would say, because there is surely a severely strange masochistic streak at play here that would require the insight of several psychologists to resolve. None the less, I've gone and agreed, so what the heck.  Me and the internet are getting a divorce soon (we break up so much we need a song) so that I can write the thing. The upside to this, is that I have the best friends who like talking about all this stuff, even if they don't read it. The men boys are actually the best when it comes to offering constructive comment. They aren't steeped in the whole genre and so they don't come up with same old-same old. They don't know the romance language (oh, yes, there is a language and we are not talking swearing or those hideous cliches the media like to trot out when they do some banal r