It is not appropriate for a school psychologist to write a book about sex, because it would be immoral according to many. Fortunately, morality has never been my forte. After years of trying to spice up my sex life, I gave up trying and started journaling instead. Maybe my handsome, but cold, aloof husband is simply unable to give me the passion I craved and got from my torn, testosterone-cracking escapades. And if I can't relive my experiences anyway, what if I write about them? Good idea, right? No one needs to know about it. It will remain my little secret. What happens to this? My husband found my diary. And can I tell you something else? It made him more accepting. Intoxicated by this, I began to push the boundaries - writing diary entries deliberately manipulating Kent. For the most part, he responded fantastically... except when he didn't. Then the biggest surprise of my life awaited me. B. B. Easton's sweepingly humorous, outspoken memoir and subsequent sequels are being made into a TV series by Netflix.