You ladies disgust me.

You pretend as though your island is so wholesome, as though you have this love of reading and - oh! oh! oh! - this appreciation of well-written heroes, but I know the truth. And it disgusts me to the core.

Please spare me the protests.
I know about that "hero draft" last year where you picked heroes to bring to the island. And I have done the math, too: a ratio of seven heroes to every one lady? Are you going to tell me that I am wrong to immediately imagine [certain acts I won't dignify by naming that involve three individuals ]? It is obviously all you ladies think about.

I'm sure there are many sick variations.

Such as a [act I won't dignify by naming] with a vampire, a werewolf and a lady. Or perhaps two Regency heroes, caressing and fondling the tender flesh of a lady in a [act I won't dignify by naming]. Or a [act I won't dignify by naming] with a lady and two cowboys, sweating, straining, worshipping her womanly curves. Or three cowboys! Or two cowboys and Cat, the young pirate from The Windflower, and a lady. Or a cowboy and Nathan Fillion and a lady. The possibilities are as endless as they are despicable.

Not only are you despicable to think that way, but inconsiderate.

I came here, innocently, to put up a post on behalf of my lazy and bossy blog mate, Carolyn Jean, and the truth of what your so-called island is really all about hit me in the face, like a cruel splash of ocean water.

How do you think it feels, to innocently come to your blog and have these torrid images forced into my mind, of dapper men in suits with dark desires?

Or hunky, naked men, all moving about, flesh on flesh, muscle on muscle, a huge orgy devoted to pleasurizing a woman who might be so unlucky to happen upon your shore?

Perhaps the woman has come to do a favor for somebody lazy and bossy, and didn't know what the island was about, and the gruff cowboys come to her, and their boots and hats are all dusty from riding all day, and they're tortured, emotionally, and they seduce her and she becomes so weak with pleasure, she can no longer think, and she loses her moral compass and she wantonly allows them to have their rough (yet tender) way with her? Has that ever occurred to you? No. I think not.

All of you ladies--you original island ladies, all ladies who post here, all authors who have visited as well as all you followers, you all disgust me.

Sincerely,
Miss Doreen