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One week down in the new year, fifty-one more to go.
This year, one of the things I am hoping for is keeping myself accountable with some writer friends. I reach my goals better when I have to be accountable to someone–whether it’s a real deadline, like a date a manuscript is due, or if it’s a deadline I’ve set for myself, if someone knows when I have said I need to be finished with something. A few of my friends like the accountability as well, so we’ve started off the year together.
The other aspect of this group is cheering each other on, which is always a nice bonus, especially on a day when you feel like you haven’t accomplished much, or enough, or what you have done is crap. Some days it might be crap, or maybe you did only dredge up a few hundred words instead of the larger number you wanted or needed, but at least it’s something, and something is better than nothing. You can fix something. Nothing, well, you can’t do anything with that. As my role model Nora Roberts says, you can fix a bad page, but you can’t fix a blank page.
So how are you doing with your New Year’s goals or resolutions so far? Pretty good? Not so good? Maybe you need to round up a couple of friends to help each other out with your goals, too. It doesn’t need to be anything fancy or formal. Maybe just text messages or emails. My writing friends’ group is a little bigger, so we actually have a group set up for ourselves, so we can chat comfortably. Find what will work best for you.
Before I get back to my writing, I have a little story snippet to share with you from Hunting Medusa.
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“Give me your mouth, Andrea.”
She bent back to him blindly, sliding one hand into his hair to catch him, and the kiss this time was savage, all heat and reckless passion. When their hips shifted together now, the motion was instinctual, primitive, wild and fast. There was no Medusa, no Harvester. Simply man and woman. Mated. Fated.
And the pleasure was ten times more powerful than what she’d felt that morning. The explosion sent her into the abyss, tumbling freely, breathless.
Andi couldn’t stop shaking. Even minutes later, the trembling in her limbs wouldn’t stop. Aftershocks made her body tighten on his and his hips shifted against hers. He murmured into her hair, and she heard his wild heartbeat beneath her ear.
She wanted to stay right where she was.
It was the stupidest thing she’d ever wanted. Especially since freedom was not too far away. Just as far as her dresser, clean clothes, the door downstairs.
“Easy.” His lips grazed her forehead this time.
Her eyes burned, and she cursed her stupid hormones. She blinked hard and steeled herself. Lifted her hips away from his. Her breath hissed in as he groaned a protest. She felt cold suddenly.
Ignoring that, she clambered off the bed, searching for some piece of clothing to put on. She’d never felt so naked.
“Andrea.”
She ignored him too, moving to her dresser and taking out some clean clothes. She didn’t even notice what. With her stinging eyes, she couldn’t quite see the things she’d grabbed.
“Andrea.” His tone this time was harder, more insistent.
She glanced toward the bed.
“Don’t do this.”
“I have to.”
“It’s not safe.”
She forced a laugh. “Yeah, you’re so concerned for my safety. Does it really matter which one of you kills me? As long as it gets done?” She jerked on panties, then jeans before wrestling with a bra.
Kallan sat up, gripping the headboard with his cuffed hand. “Stavros won’t be as concerned with how he kills you, or how he gets the amulet.”
Andi swallowed as she yanked on her shirt, then froze when he put his free hand over the cuff on his wrist. She heard the unmistakable sound of it releasing before it jangled to the pillow.
Impossible.
He got to his feet, his green eyes dangerous now.
She dashed toward the door. She only made it halfway before he caught her, ripping one of the belt loops on her jeans in the process. She fought, striking whatever she could reach and wishing she’d at least gotten shoes on so she could do some real damage since he was still naked.
But the Harvester was stronger than she was, and he simply held on until she wore herself out.
Andi finally stopped struggling, her head drooping, breath coming hard again, but with far less satisfaction this time.
He carried her back to the bed and snapped her wrist into the handcuff, his mouth set in a hard line. “I have another set, if I need both of your hands out of commission,” he ground out.
She didn’t bother to answer, struggling still to catch her breath. And against more of the unexpected tears. Damned hormones.
He sat down beside her, hands braced on his hair-spattered knees. “I thought we were going to each do a little trusting,” he said finally.
She looked at the wall to her left, rather than at him. “I saw the handcuffs and I had to try.”
“Was it worth it?”
A scalding tear rushed down her cheek, making her glad she’d turned her face away.
“I know you weren’t faking,” he whispered, leaning nearer. “You can’t fake that.”
She bit her lip, swallowing around the giant lump in her throat.
“And neither was I.”
She barely kept herself from turning to look at him, but the shock still made her body jerk.
He rose and drifted a kiss on the top of her head. “Try to get some sleep.”
Behind her, she heard him gathering his clothing before he padded into the bathroom next door. The water ran briefly, and a few minutes later, she heard him slowly go downstairs.
She lifted her free hand at last to swipe at the tears on her face, closing her eyes.
She should have known this would turn out badly. Who knew the Harvester could undo locks without keys?
Her eyes flew open. What other abilities did he have that she didn’t know about yet?
Gods help her.
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Let me know how you’re doing with your goals for the new year!
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