Because if you don't help me I will be forced to go into great detail about my sex dreams

News Flash! Life with a preschooler and an infant is not conducive to writing.

No, really. I'm not making this up. It's really hard to string together a coherent sentence when you spend most of your days either making baby talk or saying nothing but "No. I said, No. N-O. No. No! NO!!!" to a three year old who obviously has the hearing of an octogenarian. The other precious few hours are spent drooling on my pillow dreaming of hot sex with John Krasinski.

What is it about that guy? Most of my sex dreams involve him or Neil Patrick Harris and nasty acts in barn lofts. Usually with a cow present. But I digress.

I have at least four posts in the hopper, posts I have spent some significant time on. But honestly, at this point I can't stand the sound of my own voice, so the sight of my own words? Please. Reading them makes my eyes itch.

The problem may be that I haven't been reading books lately.

Really? No time for books? Get outta heah.

I know, right?

During the recent move and first few months after C.C. was born I somehow managed to read all four books in the Twilight series - and sadly enough, none of my sex dreams involve hot vampire love with a certain undead named EDWARD. Nom nom nom - but I haven't found a decent book since. It's not for lack of trying, I'm just so out of the loop that when I enter a Barnes and Noble to check out the stacks, the sheer volume makes me run away screaming.

Or maybe because I'm embarrassed someone there will recognize me as the thirty*mumblemumble* year old woman who reads teen lit. Whatever.

The fact of the matter is, I'm a better writer when I'm reading. And this is where you come in.

(You didn't know this was audience participation day, did you?)

I need book recommendations. Preferably new releases so I can find them easily. Something that will make my brain work a little is not a bad thing. Chick lit must be kept to a sane level, so Jodi Picoult and the like will be considered but it won't go to the top of my list. I'm not oppossed to chick lit, I like chick lit as much as the next chick, but some makes me want to throw up in my mouth and, really, the last thing I need is to be known as the woman who reads teen lit, has sex dreams involving gay men and farm animals, and smells like vomit.

So tell me about the book you're reading or have recently read. Tell me about one you've got on your bed side table and haven't gotten to yet but you're dying to dive into. Hell, while you're at it tell me about the last hot sex dream you had and whether or not you think I'm crazy as a shit house rat for thinking Neil Patrick Harris might go straight for me one day.

Hey, it could happen. Bovines are optional.