( Sticky notes too much To-do – Depositphotos )
My to-do list is a little bigger than that. Probably more like this…
And that’s just the writing-related list. Today is actually the second day of my three-day-weekend, the first in a couple of months, and I haven’t finished nearly as much as I wanted. On the other hand, I have been working, it’s just taken longer to whittle away some of the things on the list. Who knew there were so many book cover designers I needed to look at? I didn’t. Holy cow. On the other hand, I have seen some beautiful covers. At this point, I guess I have to start narrowing down the designers still on my list. Then I get to do the same thing with editors and formatters. While I’m still writing.
I knew diving into the self-publishing pool would be time-consuming. I did. I guess I just hadn’t quite admitted how time-consuming. The good news (for me) is this novella will be good practice for the Medusa trilogy. The better news is I have a lot of friends who’ve already done these things who can stop me from making any terrible mistakes along the way.
And hey! I’ve seen some very pretty cover images in the past two days, with very yummy heroes on them. There are worse ways to spend work time, you know.
Before I get back to it, I have a little snippet of story to share with you, from my second shifter story.
“I was hoping to share dessert with you,” he teased, leaning closer so his warm breath brushed the top of her ear.
Heat burst in her middle at that. They’d shared many desserts, a long, long time ago. Damn him. “I can’t eat anything else.”
“Then maybe a walk.” He tipped his head to look at her, and she couldn’t look away.
“I need to go home.”
Instead of looking disappointed, Rory smiled, his bright eyes knowing. “Then I’ll walk you to your car, a rúnsearc.”
That was too easy. She frowned up at him, trying to figure out what was going on in his head.
He gave her nape a stroke, fingers and thumb coming together at her spine, that made her suck in a shaky breath. “Let’s go.” He reached into his pocket and took out some money, then pushed his chair back without releasing her. He held out his free hand.
If she took it… She tipped her head back to meet his gaze, unsurprised to see the heat flare in his eyes. Gathering her courage, she put her hand in his.
Rory pulled her to her feet, and into his arms.
She knew this was a mistake.
His hand slid down from her nape to the small of her back and settled, while his eyes darkened. “Come, a rúnsearc,” he said softly after a moment, his hand slipping away from her spine, though he kept his other hand wrapped tight around hers.
And she let him. Just for a minute.
Or until they got outside.
Or maybe, she thought when they stepped out into the warm evening, until they got to her car.
His hard fingers were relaxed around hers, but she knew if she tried to withdraw, they’d tighten quickly, like a trap on a rabbit.
She had no intention of withdrawing her hand from his. She wanted just this little while. This moment would have to hold her for a very long time again.
He let her lead the way, swinging their joined hands between them as they walked up the sidewalk toward where she had parked her car. She tried not to think beyond this moment. She couldn’t help trying to remember the last time they’d had a moment like this–awareness shimmering between them, mostly relaxed.
A long time ago.
Another lifetime, she thought.
Her steps slowed as they neared her car, and his fingers tightened just a tiny bit. She stopped walking at the side of the car.
Rory released her hand and set his hands on her waist, turning her to face him.
India let him, her pulse skipping. Just the end of a date, she told herself. Not her first date. No big deal.
Except this was Rory.
His bright gaze locked on hers, and one of his big hands lifted to cup her face as he took a step toward her, determination evident in the set of his jaw, hunger darkening his eyes.
Her heart shot into overdrive. “We shouldn’t.”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Oh, a rúnsearc, we should,” he said instead. “We’re quite overdue.” He bent and nudged her nose with his.
Even knowing what a terrible idea it was, she tipped her head back. If she kissed him, she’d only want more. She already wanted more, and he’d barely touched her.
His thumb slid beneath her lower lip, and her mouth tingled in anticipation. “Soon, my pretty mate,” he breathed, as if reading her mind.
The tingling spread, down her throat, to her chest, tightening her nipples still more. She pressed her thighs together against the arousal, and he groaned, catching her mouth with his.
India set her hands on his lapels to keep from falling down at the onslaught of sensation–it had been so long since she’d tasted him, yet the flavor of him hadn’t changed at all.
His lips teased hers with light kisses, feathered from one side of her mouth to the other and back again.
She slid one hand to his nape, through the silky curls there, and felt him shudder, half a second before his kiss deepened.
Open-mouthed, hot, his tongue gliding along her lower lip.
India heard her own whimper only vaguely.
Rory tasted so damn good–like a shot of good Irish whiskey that went straight to your head, fiery and potent.
When he lifted his head, only his hand at her back and her grip on his lapel kept her on her feet.
She realized they still stood on the sidewalk beside her car, traffic rushing past on the street, people strolling by–while she was on the verge of climaxing just from his kiss. She opened her eyes, inordinately pleased to realize he was equally aroused and distracted.
His erection burned against her belly, and his breath came too fast–maybe even faster than hers.
“Fuck,” he muttered, and hauled her close against him, his panting warming her scalp while his arms slid around her.
She shut her eyes again and smiled, allowing herself this indulgence. Who knew when it would happen again? Her smile faded.
Probably not for several more years.
His hand stroked up her spine again, beneath her hair, before coming to rest at her nape. “Come with me, India.”
Dammit. She swallowed hard, her eyes opening. “Why did you go there?”
“We should be together.”
She tipped her head back to look up at him–at five-ten, she wasn’t tiny, but he had at least seven inches on her height. He might look lanky, but she knew the expensive suit hid well-developed muscles. “It can’t happen.” She tried to lean away, but she didn’t get far.
“Are you going to make me pay for the rest of our lives?” Some of the heat in his eyes chilled. “For one stupid moment?”
India’s stomach dipped, as an old ache opened up in her chest and spread through her entire body. “Let go.”
He didn’t budge, even when she wedged her hands between them.
“You’re my mate, India. How long can we live apart this way?”
The pain burned all the way to the backs of her eyes. “Your family needs you.”
“I need you.”
The stark declaration made her knees wobble. “I don’t think this is the place for–”
“It never is, and I’m tired.” His fingers tightened on her for a second. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t have a mate I want. I’m tired of waking up and rolling over and you’re not there beside me.”
India’s eyes burned. “Stop, Rory.”
“No, a rúnsearc, I won’t.”
She pushed at him, her breathing hitching. If he didn’t let go soon, the pain that kept expanding from her chest was going to start leaking from her eyes. “This isn’t fair,” she hissed.
He stepped forward again, so she was sandwiched between him and the car. “Stop, a rúnsearc. Breathe.” He tightened his hold on her again, until she felt his lapel against her cheek.
“I want you to let me go,” she got out around the hot lump in her throat.
“I can’t. Not anymore.”
Now I’m going back to making the cover designer list shorter before I call it a day. What are you working on this week?
( Goals List – Depositphotos )
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