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.” _______________
( 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!