Non-Stop

It's been another get-shit-done weekend here. My to-do list has all sorts of things scratched off of it, between the weekly household chores and doing booksigning prep for next month...I even got a couple things done that weren't even on the list. Haha. I still have a few more things to wrap up this afternoon, plus I'm continuing my search for a new newsletter host--mine has announced they'll no longer continue some things I need without a fee, so I'm on the hunt for a new host. (Author friends, do you have any recs I should check out while I'm looking? My list is fairly small at this stage, so no need for anything too elaborate.)

Some of the big things on this week's list relate to the booksignings coming up in the next couple months, starting with the A Day or Two of Wine, Romance & More event at Brook Hollow Winery in Columbia, NJ in three weeks. I love this one so much, and there are so many different kinds of books available there, I really do think there is something for every reader. My swag order is on the way, my hotel reservation is made, and now I can breathe a little before I start organizing all my stuff after next weekend. And then I'll do it all over again for the Aces Wild Author/Reader Event June 13-14 in Atlantic City, NJ. New Jersey and eastern Pennsylvania readers (heck, Delaware and New York readers, too!), if you haven't yet, mark your calendars for these! And yes, I am going to be sending newsletter reminders, probably starting in the next week about these, so if you're not on my newsletter list yet, it would be a good time to get signed up.

Before I get back to the rest of my weekend checklist, I have a snippet for you this week from Protecting Medusa.

================

            Philomena parked beside her mother’s house. She’d arrived first, and she needed to get dinner on in a hurry. Once Jason got home, she’d be too distracted to focus on cooking.

            She went in the back door, balancing a grocery bag while she reset the alarm, then hit the light switch with her elbow as she continued into the kitchen.

            She took her mother’s cast iron skillet from its hook over the counter and put it on the stove, turning the heat to high and dropping in some ground beef before she shed her coat. As she put away the rest of the groceries, the meat began to sizzle.

            She rolled up her sleeves and dug a spatula out of the utensil drawer, but froze when she heard a creak from upstairs. She waited, then shook her head. It was a hundred year-old farmhouse. 

            She stirred the beef in the pan, adding chopped onions she’d picked up at the store--not out of laziness but because she knew she needed to move quickly after three days away and with an excitable six-year-old on his way home. She could take time tomorrow to do her own prep work for dinner.

            The sound came again from upstairs. She set the spatula on the spoon rest and turned the flame under her pan down to low, then tugged up the hem of her long skirt to pull her dagger from its leather sheath on her thigh.

            A loud thud reached her ears, and her heart beat faster.

            Dear Gods, someone really was in the house.

            She crept up the back steps, keeping to the edges where she knew her weight wouldn’t make the stairs creak, the smooth handle of her long knife comforting in her sweat-damp hand.

            More thumping, accompanied by running water.

            She frowned when she got to the top of the steps, wincing as something hit the porcelain bathtub, followed by muffled cursing.

            She stuck her head around the corner, but the partially-closed bathroom door at the other end of the hall blocked her view. All she could see were shadows.

            Two people? In her mother’s bathroom? She wished she’d grabbed the phone on her way up so she could call the police. No, she should’ve called before coming upstairs. Too late now.

            More thumping and a crash.

            Her jaw clenched, and she stepped into the hallway, her pulse pounding in her ears.

            “I’ve called the police,” she lied, moving slowly along the hall. Frigid air drifted toward her. Either the bathroom window was open, or something was seriously wrong with the furnace. She frowned, holding tighter to her knife.

            A dark blur went out the window, and her eyes widened. It was quite a drop to the ground, even with all the snow mounded below from the big storms so far this winter.

            When a large, naked man with a gun went to look out the window, she froze in the middle of the hall, her dagger shoulder high.

            Naked. 

            She swallowed, and then he turned around. Her lungs stopped working.

            “Hello, Philomena. Have I ever told you how much I love a woman who can handle a blade?” He caught the edge of the door and pulled it wide open.

            She’d know that voice anywhere, and that face, even if she’d only seen him in photos. Ryder Ware, Jason’s father.

            And wow, was she seeing him in person. 

================

Has your weekend been non-stop, too, or have you gotten some down-time for reading? I'd love to hear about it! And hey, if you're not on the newsletter list, you can sign up below!

Until next week, happy reading!