I took that picture above a couple of years ago when I was visiting my dad. The leaves were beginning to change color, and I’m looking forward to seeing that again soon. It’s so much cooler this weekend than it’s been in ages, though it’s going to warm up again in the coming week. But I have hope that it won’t last too long.
I’ll be back at my dad’s again in the next week, which I’m happy about. Even more so, because I’ll get to see one of my aunts who lives far, far away. Lots of family visits lately,and I’m hoping there are more of those in my near future.
I finished the first draft of the third shifter story. Now I get to go back to the beginning of the first story in the series and fix all of the things I’ve figured out have to happen or start to happen in the first book to make sense in the second, third and fourth books. Sounds easy enough, right? Probably not quite that easy, but it makes me happy knowing the stories will be much better when I finish rewriting.
So, in honor of going back to the first shifter, I have a little story snippet for you.
Harley let her talk, prodding occasionally, all through supper and a couple of glasses of wine on her side of the table. It was the first time he’d seen her completely relaxed in a very long time.
When he let the conversation flag for a moment, the band that had begun playing in the next room half an hour ago caught her attention. If her toe-tapping and faint smile were any indication, they were playing a song she liked.
Harley got to his feet and held out his hand. “Come dance with me.”
Wariness clouded her eyes instantly.
“Please. You looked like this is a song you enjoy, so dance with me.”
Evidently her normal logic was a little clouded by the wine she’d consumed, because she put one hand in his, her warm fingers sending heat over his palm and up his arm.
He didn’t want to spook her, not so soon, but he pulled her as near as he dared when they stepped onto the dance floor, setting his free hand on her hip to guide her steps, and she put her own free hand on his shoulder.
She smelled good. Something vaguely citrusy, and, beneath that, Tessa. He inhaled deeply, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand.
The song, and therefore the dance, wasn’t nearly long enough, but Harley knew not to push his luck when she stepped back at the end of it. Warm color tinted her cheeks, and she didn’t meet his gaze. “I really do need to get some sleep, Harley.”
“I did promise, didn’t I?” He consoled himself with the notion that this was only his first move in what would be a very long game.
I hope you like! Now, I think it’s time to find something for supper, and then watch a little Ally McBeal. Fun story, great music, and romantic complications.
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