Fresh FIction Box Not To Miss
Susan Connell | Romancing The Beach
Author Guest / August 23, 2012

I live twenty minutes from Palm Beach, a fifteen mile long island on Florida’s south east coast. My husband and I drive over there at least once a week. We don’t go for Worth Avenue’s high end shopping, or to dine at glitzy restaurants, or for a drive-by of the opulent mansions. We go for the beach. Ahhh…the beach. Perfectly tended, life guard protected and still public. Besides all that, it’s the nearest patch of salt scented real estate to our home. So good for planting our beach umbrella (red with a Campari logo), setting up our sand chairs and indulging in our weekly ritual of people watching. (Okay, my husband goes to swim, so let me tell you about the guys.) You would be amazed by the cross section of male society I’ve seen there. A mosaic of men – all shapes, all sizes, and all ages. Oooh, baby let the show begin and set it to the sounds of English, Spanish, French, Portuguese and German. By the way, I’m still not getting the appeal of Europeans in mini-Speedos. Nor do I gaze fondly upon American men in Jams. (Excuse me, sir, the 90’s called and they want their…