Not an actual picture of me, but a fair representation of this weekend. Only there should be more crumpled up papers. I’m not trashing one of my stories, just revising my writing goals for the year now that I’ve survived the craziest week I’ve had in three years at the day-job. And as I’m revising, I’m really glad I built in some padding for my original goals, though I had no idea how much of it I was going to need when things went south.
I think in the next day or two, I’ll have it fine-tuned and then I can get back to rewriting Medusa #2, which I was enjoying, right up until the start of crazy week. And can I just tell you, in the midst of all the insanity, I finally got my snowstorm–on the two craziest days, of course. It started snowing while we were in the office Tuesday, and I had to clear off my car before I could go home. Then I had to clear off even more to go to the office Wednesday morning. And then, after almost 11 hours at work, I had to not just clear off more snow, but shovel the car out, since the maintenance guys had been plowing all day. And now most of my 12″+ of snow is gone already. Spring in Pennsylvania. I didn’t even get to take any pictures of it, and it was beautiful, no matter what my summer-loving friend says.
The timing of the storm was fun all the way around–we had tickets for a concert Tuesday night, so after I got done with the crazy at work, then we had to drive through the snow to dinner and the show, and it was totally worth it. It was a nice reprieve before the extra-long Wednesday.
I have done some writing this week, on hot tiger shifter #5. But I’ve been doing more rewriting on other things than new writing for poor Joe. Fortunately, Joe is patient, so he’ll be ready when I get back to his story. Which might be a little while, since I’ve reworked the writing goals for the rest of the year. Poor Joe, but first up will be Medusas, and then tiger shifters.
And since I’m in Medusa-mode today, how about a little taste of Medusa #3?
Katharine had had enough. Her skin was tingling with the need for release again, and her heart beat too fast. And she hadn’t seen any likely candidates. Even a desperate Medusa had standards.
Which meant it was time to go home and break out a couple more vibrators to get through tonight. Dammit.
She took another sip from her glass, smiling at Ramona from her post on the deck. Her friend danced enthusiastically with someone she’d greeted even more enthusiastically just a little while ago. She hated to interrupt, but it really was time to go home.
Katharine sighed and shifted her shoulders, trying to loosen up the tight muscles there, turning her gaze over the crowd one last time. Her breath caught in her chest.
He was gorgeous, in a rugged sort of way. His nose had been broken at least once, but it didn’t matter. A dimple dented his chin, and he had the brightest blue eyes she’d ever seen, black hair dipping over one of them. Even better, his green shirt stretched taut over strong shoulders and a wide chest, then tucked into a pair of jeans that fit nicely on narrow hips.
Her heart beat faster in anticipation.
Then he glanced up from his conversation with a shorter man whose arm was wrapped around an even shorter woman and caught her eye. A slow smile curved his mouth as his gaze slid down the front of her, then back up, making her skin warm in anticipation, lingering on her mouth.
Her lips tingled hopefully.
She took a drink from the cup she still held. Whatever frozen thing Ramona had given her was melting and slushy, but she could still taste the bite of alcohol as it hit her tongue.
He moved away from the couple he was with, toward her, and her temperature went up a couple more degrees. His long-legged stride was confident, though he didn’t rush.
No, damn him, he made her wait, pausing once, briefly, to greet someone along the way.
She tightened her grip on the stem of the plastic cup and took a quick breath.
He finally stopped about two steps away, and she could smell his cologne, something musky that made her pulse race even faster.
She felt her nipples tighten inside her vest.
“Hi.” The low tone of his voice raised goosebumps on her arms despite the warm evening air.
“Hi.” She put out her right hand. “I’m Katharine Vardos.”
He smiled again, that slow curve of his lips that made heat spread in her belly, from the inside out, until her panties were damp when she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
Then he wrapped his long, strong fingers around hers. “Hunter Phelps. Nice to meet you.”
Heat shot up her arm from where he held her hand, rising into her face. “Are you a friend of Ramona’s?” She left her hand in his, her brain already imagining his long fingers elsewhere on her body. The mental images made her breathing quicken.
He shook his head, sliding his thumb across the back of her hand. “My buddy Lance is, though.” His bright gaze dropped to her mouth again.
She inhaled slowly. “Are you a dancer, Hunter?” Blue eyes she could drown in, she thought when he met her gaze again.
“Occasionally,” he said, tightening his hold on her hand. “Was that an invitation?”
“Yes.” Oh, please let him say yes, she thought.
He set his beer bottle down on the deck railing, then took her cup and set it aside, too. “Let’s go.”
Katharine and Hunter had some surprises for me when I was writing the first draft of their story, and I hope when the time comes that everyone else enjoys those as much as I did.
Before I go, I wonder how many of you have had to rearrange your plans already for the rest of the year? Surely I’m not alone in having something unexpected happen that pushed your goals off-track. How are you managing with getting back on-track?
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