Things to Think About

There are always a ton of things on my to-do list, some that repeat from week to week, some that have hard deadlines and others that can be pushed back to the next week (and the next?), holidays, birthdays… This week, of course, we’re heading into Father’s Day here in the U.S. so I’ve been thinking about and missing my dad. We also have a birthday coming up closer to the end of the month in our household, so I’m thinking about gifts and cake for the birthday ‘boy’. And that doesn’t include any of the writing things on my list. Or the perpetual household to-do list, though I am hoping to knock a couple more things off of that when I have a long weekend in two weeks; I got some checked off when I was on vacation last week, but you know how those lists go: check one thing off, add three more.

This week’s to-do list is mostly writing things. Finish a shifter story, rewrites on Medusa #3. So I can get to those, I have a quick snippet from this shifter story, no title yet, but I am hoping it will be ready for the world either late this year or early next.

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An hour later, when she’d nearly finished compiling the report, India felt eyes on her, making the fine hairs at the nape of her neck prickle. She swiveled her chair a little as she looked up, frowning. No one. She tapped her fingers on the desktop and shifted her gaze to the window.

And she saw him, standing at a window across the street.

Her heartbeat leaped into high gear, and she tried to slow it down, tried to convince herself it was just her imagination, just a little wishful thinking left over from last weekend. Her imagination.

Even though she knew it wasn’t.

He was here.

Heat flashed through her, molten, and left her shivering. If she tried to leave the office, her legs would never hold her.

She couldn’t see his face clearly from here, but she didn’t need to. She knew it almost as well as her own, even after all this time.

She shut her eyes and turned back to her desk.

Her phone rang, and she nearly jumped out of her chair like a ninny. Laughing at herself, she picked the phone up. “Hello?”

“Hello, a runsearc.” The lilting Irish accent teased her ear, familiar, sexy.

She went still, except for her racing heart. “What do you want?” The question came out hoarse, but she couldn’t help it. Her imagination went wild. Memories, good and bad, flooded through her.

He chuckled, and arousal stirred in her belly, spreading outward. She knew what he wanted. “Have dinner with me,” he said after a second.

“No.” She was a little surprised she’d managed to sound like she meant that.

“You’d really make me wait until the meeting next week to have a meal together?”

India shut her eyes. He would be there. Dear Gods.

“India, a runsearc?”

“Why are you here?” She should have just repeated her refusal and hung up.

“Why do you think?”

To torture her, obviously. Every part of her wanted to go to him, even now. “Because you’re a glutton for punishment,” she muttered.

He laughed again. “For you? Of course.”

She’d meant herself, and she flushed, trying to ignore the slow, thick trickle of heat in her veins, the building throb in her belly.

“But the pleasure is so much better,” he whispered.

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One of the things on this month’s writing to-do list is to announce the release date for Hunting Medusa, so keep your eyes here and on my social media for that.

What’s on your to-do list this week? Hopefully it allows some down-time for you to do something enjoyable along with the work and chores!

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