Archive for March, 2017


Yesterday was a very lovely day, though it was spent on household chores rather than enjoying the nice weather.  Today wasn’t as lovely, which was just as well, as I went in to the day-job to start my crazy week early.  The rest of the week should be warm, but I think rainy, which seems fitting, since the calendar is about to roll over into April by the weekend.

( Photo credit: Thomas James Caldwell via Foter.com / CC BY-ND )

There are flowers blooming, and there is even a magnolia tree at the office that had flowers opening a couple of weeks ago when we got the first rush of warm spring weather (before the snow finally came).

So what will I be doing this week?  Working like a crazy person at the day-job, and, hopefully, getting in some writing time if my brain doesn’t turn to complete mush.  Last week was almost as crazy, but I still managed new pages in the mornings, before starting at the office, and a little during lunch breaks mid-week, so I’m hoping I can do the same this week.  I’m actually ready for a vacation, I think.  Too bad I didn’t schedule one until the end of July.

I think I’m ready for spring, since my winter was a total bust.  The only trouble with it being spring is that means summer will follow close behind, and you know how I feel about summer.

Once we get through this week and next at the day-job, the craziness will abate for a little while, which is nice.  And I’ve had some good news about the friends I was worrying about.  Both have made it through their surgeries, well, so now they just have to be patient about recovering.  A little stress off my plate.  The ill family members are still worrying me, though I know worrying is a waste of energy.

So how do you stop yourself, or at least distract yourself from fruitless worrying?  I could use a few pointers.  And maybe you would like a snippet of a tiger shifter and her wolf?

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India wasn’t sure how she made it through the meal. She didn’t taste anything, couldn’t even concentrate on the food she put in her mouth.
All her attention was on the man sitting too close to her, the fresh, wild scent of him driving her slowly mad, the feel of his warm fingers on her back reinforcing the throbbing in her belly, his hard thigh pressing against hers all through the meal.
She should never have agreed to meet him for dinner. What the hell had she been thinking? She needed to get out of here.
Rory’s big hand settled on her nape again. “You’re not eating, love.”
She stifled a little shiver. When he called her that, it had always made her melt, and she needed not to do that. Not tonight. Not ever again. “I’m not hungry.” She finally set the fork on the side of her plate.
“I was hoping to share dessert with you,” he teased, leaning closer so his warm breath brushed the top of her ear.
Heat burst in her middle at that. They’d shared many desserts, a long, long time ago. Damn him. “I can’t eat anything else.”
“Then maybe a walk.” He tipped his head to look at her, and she couldn’t look away.
“I need to go home.”
Instead of looking disappointed, Rory smiled, his bright eyes knowing. “Then I’ll walk you to your car.”
That was too easy. She frowned up at him, trying to figure out what was going on in his head.
He gave her nape a stroke, fingers and thumb coming together at her spine, that made her suck in a shaky breath. “Let’s go.” He reached into his pocket and took out some money, then pushed his chair back without releasing her. He held out his free hand.
If she took it… She tipped her head back to meet his gaze, unsurprised to see the heat flare in his eyes. Gathering her courage, she put her hand in his.
Rory pulled her to her feet, and into his arms.
She knew this was a mistake.
His hand slid down from her nape to the small of her back and settled, while his eyes darkened. “Come, love ,” he said softly after a moment, his hand slipping away from her spine, though he kept his other hand wrapped tight around hers.
And she let him. Just for a minute.
Or until they got outside.
Or maybe, she thought when they stepped out into the warm evening, until they got to her car.
His hard fingers were relaxed around hers, but she knew if she tried to withdraw, they’d tighten quickly, like a trap on a rabbit.
She had no intention of withdrawing her hand from his. She wanted just this little while. This moment would have to hold her for a very long time again.

_______________

Hope you all have a great week!

 

 

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Evidently my snow from earlier in the week is all I’m getting this year, as it’s warmed up so much that there are huge patches of grass and much smaller patches of snow in the yard.  There are miniature daffodils in the side bed that are on the verge of blooming in spite of the snow.

( Photo credit: Derek N Winterburn via Foter.com / CC BY-ND )

So instead of wishing we’d had a better winter, a more wintry winter, I’ve moved on, I surrender to the inevitable .  I do love spring, with all the flowers, including tulips, which are my very favorite, and the lilacs that smell so wonderful.  And for me, the change of season this year is a fresh start, kind of like the new year, with revised writing goals since my original goals for the year didn’t include finding a new home for Hunting Medusa.

Do you take the chance to start fresh when the seasons change?  Setting new goals for the new season?

Before I head back to my writing, I have a little snippet of the first tiger shifter for you.

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Tessa wasn’t sure if she should be scared or not when he guided the car into the family compound a little later. Back to the house. She hadn’t thought this far.
She couldn’t do that.
Not after everyone in the house had watched them leave together.
She shut her eyes. Her body hummed, too hot, too aware. Harley hadn’t stopped touching her, whether he was brushing his fingers over hers, or settling his heavy hand on her knee or her thigh.
The car stopped moving and shut off, and she realized he’d just driven to the guest house. Far enough away from his family to be alone. No audience.
“Don’t move.” He released her knee.
Like her legs would hold her up to go anywhere. She opened her eyes slowly, inhaling deeply to try to calm her pulse a bit.
Then her door opened, and Harley’s hand caught her wrist.
Her heart beat faster again. She met his gaze and couldn’t look away.
The heat in his golden eyes stole her breath.
“Those shoes are very pretty,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “but it’s a shame you can’t run in them.” He pulled her out of the car and into his arms. He scooped her up against his chest, and she braced herself with one hand on his shoulder. “But we’ve waited long enough.” He kicked the door shut and strode to the house.
Tessa swallowed.

She was really doing this.
Harley.
He carried her inside, never stopping until they reached the master suite at the back of the house, and then he set her on her feet.
She realized she was breathing much too quickly, that her pulse thumped crazily in her ears. And excitement pumped through her with every beat of her heart.
Harley turned on the light beside them, then yanked the blankets down on his way around the bed to turn on the light on the opposite night stand, too.
Then he faced her, smiling. And shrugged out of his blazer.
She heard it swish to the floor behind him.
Then he started undoing the buttons on the front of his shirt, watching her instead of what he was doing. “Take off your dress, Tessa.”
Her mouth went dry. Her knees knocked. Holy shit.
He held her gaze as he unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way, baring more of his wide, tawny chest. “You like what you see?” He grinned at her, shrugging out of the shirt and dropping it carelessly to the floor, too. “I know you do. I can see your pulse racing there, in the hollow of your throat. You’d better get that pretty dress off, or it’s going to get torn.”

His conversational tone made her panties even wetter as her brain flashed images of him carrying out the sexy threat.
“Tessa.” His tone remained even, but the heat in his eyes flared hotter. “Take it off. Now.”
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( Photo credit: azjeepmusclestud via Foter.com / CC BY-ND )

That is a fair representation of Harley in that scene, I think.

On that note, have a good week!

 

 

 

Since last week, the weather forecasters have been talking about this huge snowstorm headed our way, and how we would be getting a massive amount of snow.  When I went to bed late last night, we were still supposed to have about a foot of snow on the ground by morning, with another 8-12″ still to come.  Ha!  When my boss texted me early this morning to say the office was closed, it was sleeting, and it continued to sleet for about four more hours before changing back over to snow.  The sun has been out a couple of times now, though it is snowing again, lightly.  This is my ‘snowstorm’ accumulation…

Not all that impressive.  I think if it hadn’t changed to sleet early this morning, we might be a lot closer to where the forecast promised we would be by this afternoon.  Oh well.  I think this is all the snow I’m getting this year.

On the other hand, even though my snowstorm was a bust, the extra paid day off has been good for doing some necessary clearing out, and even some writing, which I’m aiming to get back to soon.

I need to redo my goals list for the year, too, though that will wait till the weekend, because it’s going to be a pretty massive redo, since my original list didn’t involve figuring out what to do with my book when my publisher went out of business.  I still haven’t made up my mind if I will head into the big, scary world of self-publishing to re-release Hunting Medusa, or if I will see if another publisher may be interested in it and the two other books in the trilogy.   Either is nerve-wracking.

But today, I am working on my tiger shifter.  He’s not ready yet for public consumption, but I have a snippet from the second tiger shifter story I think might be suitable for a cold, snowy March afternoon.

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Then his pale blue gaze swung back to her face, and she couldn’t look away.
Holy hotness!
Even though she couldn’t pull her gaze away from his sky-blue eyes, she still noticed his rumpled white-blond hair brushed back from his face, the sharp angles of his cheekbones, and the width of his shoulders beneath a red polo shirt.
Wowza.
Vivi swallowed and dragged her gaze away finally. It landed on her drink, and she picked it up, taking a sip to wet her dry lips.
A tiger.
She needed to get away before her hormones got any happier. She put the glass down on the bar and sat back in her seat.
“Don’t let me chase you away,” the blonde said, his voice a low rumble that made her stomach clench.
She glanced toward him, but didn’t meet his eyes. “You’re not. I’ve just had a long day, and it’s time to go.”
“Without any supper?” He turned on his stool a little to face her.
Oh Gods. Vivi couldn’t help the flush burning her cheeks. The red shirt stretched over a broad, muscled chest, and it took her a few seconds to force her gaze up to his.
At least his mouth wasn’t curved in a smirk. Though if he’d been smirking or appeared as if he knew exactly what was going on in her head, she’d have found it easier to get off of the stool. “I didn’t actually come in for supper, just a drink with a friend.” She inched to her right.
“Have dinner with me.”
She froze. “What makes you think I’d be a good dinner companion?” she asked after a second.
His mouth relaxed a little, as if he might be on the verge of a smile. “Just a hunch. I’m sure you’re a far better dinner companion than I am. Sorry I bothered you.” He picked up his glass and took a sip of the golden liquid in it.
Vivi studied his profile for a few moments. There was something familiar about it. And something very appealing about him, aside from the face. Especially that, aside from not pushing her to stay, there was something lonely about him. “You know, telling a woman what a terrible date you are isn’t really the right approach. Probably going to bring your success rate down a little.”
He finally smiled, a slow, wide grin that revealed dimples.
Gods, she was a sucker for dimples, dammit.
He met her gaze again and stuck out his right hand. “I’m Boris.”
“Vivi.” She tamped down the little voice in the back of her head shrieking this was a Bad Idea. When his warm fingers wrapped around her hand, she shivered.
“Vivi, would you have dinner with me? You can give me some pointers on how this should work.”
“What the hell.” She was certain she’d regret this later, but it had been a long time…

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I do love Boris, and when I started the first shifter story, I didn’t realize he would be getting one, too.  After all, he was married.  Then his wife turned into a selfish dirtbag and left him and their kids.  Poor Boris.  And lucky Vivi.  Eventually.

Now, I’m heading back to shifter #4, and then maybe making some grilled cheese sandwiches for supper before I write some more.

 

 

 

It was a busy weekend, so I am late.  I know it, and I’m sorry.

( Photo credit: Sean MacEntee via Foter.com / CC BY )

It’s been a rough week here.  I keep thinking that things should settle down, that some of the people in my life who have had bad news should start getting better soon.  So far, not so much.

I had been making pretty good progress on the fourth shifter manuscript in the past week, in spite of all of the distractions and worries.  Even with a few really busy days at work.

But I’m determined to get that forward motion back tomorrow, even if I have to shove all the worry and distraction into a tiny box and lock it in the back of my mind.  Even if it’s only for fifteen minutes.  At least to start.  I can work back up to where I was, and I will.

I do love this shifter hero, too.  He is damaged, and he is protective of the heroine, from the first time they meet, and he is so hot.  Boy, is he hot.  I may do some re-reading tomorrow, just because.  The weather-guessers are saying we might get some snow later this week, which means I will have plenty of time to stay in and dig back into the story.  And then a shiny new blog post as well.  Hopefully one where I can say I’m back to being actually productive again.

Until then, I hope the rest of your week is wonderful!