I am going to be floating on cloud nine for the next few days, just because I’m thrilled that Light the Way Home is out in the world now. If you click on the title, that takes you to a page with links to all the major booksellers, in case you need something new to read this week while you’re staying home to avoid germs, or just to take your mind off of the scary news stories everywhere.
Ever since my publisher for Hunting Medusa closed up shop a few years ago, I have been studying up on the long list of steps from start to finish to self-publish a book, because I want to get Hunting Medusa back out, along with the second and third books in the ‘Medusa’s Daughters’ trilogy. There were a lot more points on the list than I would have guessed when I started, and it was pretty daunting to think about, so I didn’t do anything. It’s easier to do nothing when you’re afraid of making a huge mistake, isn’t it?
But then on one of my writing loops, a generous author offered an opportunity that I had to take: the Common Elements Romance Project. Five story elements that needed to be included in everyone’s story, but none of the stories in the project are connected otherwise. A novella seemed like a great way to get my feet wet in the self-publishing world. Still all the same steps, but not technically alone, so somehow not as scary. Weird how our brains work sometimes, isn’t it?
I had a few roadblocks and setbacks, mostly related to real life and the day-job, so I’m later with this story than I had planned initially, but it’s here at last, and I am still thrilled. Plus I feel like I might be able to do this a bit better again with ‘Medusa’s Daughters’, which is a good thing, since I have them on my writing goals list for this year. Yikes.
While I go back to revisions on the second Medusa story, I have a little story snippet for you from a novella I am hoping to set loose in the world down the road, maybe next year.
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Boone Thatcher froze in his tracks as he rounded the corner of the house. She was at it again. His heart pounded in his head until he couldn’t hear anything else.
Long, bare legs, braced on the rickety metal ladder.
He let his gaze slide up them, from her bare, paint-spattered toes, to her shapely calves, to slender thighs topped by fringey, cut-off shorts that only covered her ass by a few scant inches.
The blood rushing in his veins all dropped southward, to his groin, at the images his mind summoned up. Had been summoning up for months now. Made him want to loosen his already-undone tie to get some air in his lungs.
“Oh, hi, Boone.” Moira Dawley smiled brightly down at him, dripping paint from her narrow paintbrush onto the shrub beside her ladder. “I didn’t hear you.”
He swallowed, his mouth dry, and forced his gaze up from the curve of her bottom, past the faded white t-shirt with a hole near one hip, to her face, to brown eyes like melted chocolate. Dark and decadent. Eyes he wanted to drown in.
He jerked his wayward mind back from the brink. “Hi, Moira. I got your message.”
Her smile disappeared. “Oh.” Faint color touched her fair, freckled cheeks.
He frowned. Her message hadn’t hinted at anything bad.
She stuck her brush into the tray resting atop the shaky ladder and backed down.
Boone resisted the urge to catch her around the waist and lift her off. Each gentle sway of her hips was torture.
By the time she stepped onto the ground again, he struggled to breathe evenly. Sweat ran down his back under his dark uniform shirt, dampened his nape on the way.
Moira looked at him curiously. “You okay, Boone?”
He nodded. “Just a little warm.”
The curiosity became disbelief, then cleared. “Were you working out after your shift?”
He nodded again. Somehow, he didn’t think that one little lie was a very big deal. Not as big as if he told her the truth: his tongue was about to drag on the ground from the sight of her bare legs.
She smiled a little. “I made lemonade. Come on in.” She waved at him as she moved past, heading for the back door into her little house.
He shook himself mentally and followed her inside, then barely managed to swallow back a groan at the sight of her bent over in front of the refrigerator. Her shorts rode up so he got a fleeting glimpse of white lace panties.
He rested his forehead against the cool wall and shut his eyes. Shit, what did I do to deserve this torture?
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Now I’m going to go revise and maybe think about supper before I have to start thinking about week two of work-from-home. How does your week look? Are you working from home, too? Or are you still going out to the day-job every day? If you are, be safe!