Ugh, summer heat and humidity. We of Celtic heritage (redhead skin, need I say more?) do not take it well. When the floor waves hello in the morning, it's time to call in overheated and plop self in front of box fan with an endless supply of bottled water. Which describes my Sunday.

Of course a book lover like me insists on having something to read, but since my brain was fried, seared and parboiled, picking one out was impossible. Even after a spirited rant to a dear friend on how romances used to be and why I miss that. She tossed (quite literally, lobbed from across the room) me a copy of Jennifer Roberson's licensed Highalnder novel, Scotland the Brave.

Even being pukey-overheated (I do not exaggerate; I've had heatstroke in the past, and now days like this hit me like a steamroller, pun intended) my brain latched onto A) Jennifer Roberson (I love her Tiger and Del SwordDancer fantasy series, which I maintain is really a romance) and B) Highlander -- enuff said. Okay. Open book, start reading in between frequent and extended naps.

Contented sigh...yes, this is what I come to the party for. I especially loved the wistfulness of Duncan's longing for a Scotland he can never have again, and all the poor sots who go for pop-culture version of Scotland and don't know what the real deal was. Roberson can manipulate my emotions like a preschooler with a handful of play dough, and that's the way, uh huh uh huh I like it, uh huh uh huh. Now to carry this over into my own writing.

But first more water.