Welcome to Becca Wilhite's Author Site
Enjoy Sweet Romantic Comedy

Category: Authors

Where Am I?

Yesterday, where was I? At the optometrist’s office, having my retina checked. Because possibly I’m a hypochondriac. Here’s the story: At my last visit, he said, Hey, lady, you have dreadfully strong contacts prescriptions. You should be very alert for the following symptom: if by chance you ever see some weird fluidy floating, light-flashing ripples
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Breakfast Joy

So I’m not a big breakfast eater. I don’t love milk, and I’m sort of disenchanted with maple syrup. But my Kids (and Husband) get a hot breakfast every morning. And some mornings, like this one, breakfast borders on dessert. I wish I had a camera. You’d want to lick the screen. Here’s what we
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Magic Mirror

The Nordstrom at the nearest mall has a magic mirror. I’m totally not making this up. The mirror at the end of the hallway inside the dressing room makes me look 6 inches taller and 20 pounds lighter. My legs are long in that mirror. My face, too. I think, in fact, that I look
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Liberation Thursday

I have goals. I just thought you’d like to know. For instance, every day for the past 2 weeks (and no, Saturday and Sunday don’t count as days, duh) I’ve written 1000 words. Some days, barely. But my WIP is growing because I’ve been diligent. (I love me some diligence.) The writing goals are excellent
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Want to get inside my head? Are you sure?

* being the person who takes a shower every day, I walked on the wild side yesterday (when my hair still held Sunday Goodness) and skipped it. I saved 46 minutes of my life for sitting in the sun. It was a good idea. * how many days can a headache last before it becomes
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Tap… Tap… Tap.

Oh, mercy. This is going to take forever. Do you know how there are some days when it all clicks? Whatever it is you’re doing, it just sort of happens? Those days are good, right? I have those days when I’m writing. Sometimes I can bust out a thousand words in an hour. One very
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News Flash: Boys and Girls are Different.

I know. This is breakthrough stuff. But it’s on my mind, so now it’s on your screen. Once upon a time, maybe ten years ago, I read a book. This is not news. But the book was nonfiction (rare), and about sports (exceedingly rare). It’s called “The Power of Nice” by a sports agent/lawyer called
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Slave to Fashion?

So I’m going to go ahead and blog about clothes. Stop laughing. I mean it. Stop. I like clothes. I do. They certainly beat the alternative. (I know, right?) But fashion? I don’t get it. Even little-kid fashion. In fact, I was in Macy’s yesterday with all four Kids, and I had gag-reflex issues with
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