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Pretty Summer Days


( Photo credit: Lida Rose via Foter.com / CC BY-ND )

This week has been absolutely gorgeous here, finally.  After a week or so of mostly rainy days, the beautiful weather the past week has been a glorious change.  I got a couple of tomatoes planted, though the greenhouse didn’t have the lemon basil I wanted, so I’ll have to go back again and look soon, because that is my favorite.  I have lemon balm in my garden that is like two shrubs at this point, but the lemon basil has the best smell ever.

I’m really not just getting my hands dirty in the garden, though.  I’ve also gotten a lot of writing done in the last couple of weeks.  I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I have almost reached the end of the first draft of this shifter story.  I suppose I’m like most romance writers this way, but I think the hero of this story is one of my favorites.  He’s so yummy and wounded and hot as hell.

I’m not saying that I don’t love all the heroes who came before.  I do.  But he just happens to be the one getting most of my attention right now, which means I like him best.  And maybe you will, too.

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Anton reappeared, water bottles in hand. She swallowed and pushed herself upright, then fumbled for the rumpled sheet.

He caught her wrist before she found the edge. “Are you getting modest now?” One of his eyebrows quirked up a little.

“Too late for that, I guess,” she muttered, taking the water bottle he offered.

“Oh, much,” he agreed, uncapping his water while she took a drink. “I’ve already seen it all.”

She choked on her first sip of water, and he patted her helpfully on the back, then sat down facing her on the side of the bed.

She wiped at her watering eyes a moment later. “That wasn’t nice.”

“Sorry.”

She gave his unrepentant expression a narrow-eyed stare, then she shook her head and took another careful sip. “You know,” she started, cautiously, “I can go back to the guest room. I mean, you said last night you don’t bring anyone home, so I don’t want this to be weird for you.”

His green eyes went to slits. “What?”

She glanced away.

“You really just said you’d rather sleep across the hall than here in my bed?”

His dangerous tone made her look up at him again, eyes widening. “That isn’t what I meant.”

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( Photo credit: Foter.com )

Now I’m going to do a little editing, and then more writing tomorrow.  Hope you all have a good week!

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