Dorian would be about to kill me, if I hadn’t done work while making a roast dinner. Beth’s been teaching me for a while, mainly because I’ve seen how Dorian reacts to her food. He loves it, I was jealous.
When I told her I was jealous she told me, and I quote, “Quit your fucking bitching, any moron can learn to cook.”
She had to add an addendum, when I somehow screwed up a hard boiled egg. It exploded.
… along with about fourteen after it.
So today I made Dorian a roast dinner and he reacted almost the same way. I know him well enough to know when he’s putting on a farce. It probably didn’t hurt my chances, that I did the entire thing in a summer dress with a loose skirt and bare feet.
It’s not the barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen thing with him. A woman barefoot is somehow seductive to him—in the kitchen or not—add in a skirt and what he calls ‘flouncing’ and I had to slap the man off of me so that I could carve the roast.
I’m years away from cooking like Beth, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying.
So while I made a wonderful dinner, I also filled out my Goodreads author page, set up the Amazon Author Central page, and slapped up an author profile image.
I need a better camera. Or to get one professionally done, both will cost about the same.