I had a great signing at Rose’s Bookhouse. There are signed copies of WRECKED and other books, if you’d like to order. They will mail them, just call. She’s also on Facebook, if you’d prefer to reach her that way. (There are a few copies of the Kit books, too.)
I stopped to eat dinner at this awesome little restaurant in Poseyville, Indiana. I think if you blink, you’ll miss the town. The Red Wagon was the restaurant and the Cajun Bayou chicken was awesome.
I also took this picture when I stopped at the stop sign.
We took a bike ride yesterday. Eight miles. Half of it in the wind. My legs aren’t too sore, but I’m sunburnt. Awesome.
It’s less than two weeks now until I’m going to be signing at Turn the Page…this is like a romance writer’s dream, right? I’m still waiting for somebody to pinch me. (I also wanna know if I’ve got time to figure out a way to go to the battlefield. I love Civil War history. Love it.) Anyway, if you want to order personalized signed books from me, you totally can. They’ve only got Wrecked and The Reunited listed, but if you give them enough time, they can get backlist books in. But that means…um, notify them now. Use their contact page or call them.
I’m still getting a lot of questions about Zach’s brothers. I shall simply refer you to this post. :) I can’t answer that Q yet, because I simply don’t know. I’d love to write more, but that’s not always up to me. Word of mouth, reviews, all of that helps; the more people who are buying WRECKED and giving it a shot? The more likely it will be that I have the chance to tell more stories about the Barnes brothers. Yes, the first plan would be Keelie and Zane. But we’ll have to see what happens.
I read The Witness this weekend. I think it might be my new favorite by Nora Roberts. It’s kinda awesome. The heroine is a mess. She’s awkward and does and says things that don’t fit. And she’s brilliant.
A snippet from Wrecked for those who are still on the fence.
Maybe he should be careful about the games he was going to play, Zach thought after Abby had shut the door behind her and disarmed the alarm. She shot him a nervous look. Nervous . . . and hot. There was both dismay and heat in her eyes, as though she wanted to bolt and plunge right into this.
Whatever this was.
Deciding to make it easy on her, he moved a few feet into the house and sprawled on the staircase. “So what were you going to show me?
She fingered the material of the full skirt flaring around her legs. The material was pale pink, glowing against her skin like a rose. Zach smirked to himself as he thought it. She went and made him start thinking poetic thoughts like that, turned him into a knot with just a smile. He was a mess.
The heels of her shoes clicked on the floor as she came toward him and he found himself mesmerized by her legs. The skirt was modest, just an inch below her knees, but still, the heels and her legs . . ..
“Ah . . . you know, if you don’t show me soon,” he said, dragging his eyes up to stare at her face. “I think you should have to take the panties off. Just on principle.”
“That’s a weird principle.” She smiled at him, still fingering the skirt and watching him with that hot, almost fevered look in her eyes. “But I’m going to show you. Or better yet . . . you can see for yourself.”
She caught a fistful of her skirt and dragged it up and Zach felt his heart all but stop.
That grin on her face danced into somewhere just shy of devilish. “I need some help, Zach,” she said. “The skirt and the petticoat are a handful.”
He blinked, a little dazed. “Petticoat . . . ?”
Then he looked down and saw the black slip-like thing under it. Petticoat. Yeah, he knew what that was. Peeking out from under the skirt, tangling around her legs. He swallowed the spit pooling in his mouth and started to drag it up and then his heart really did stop.
Yeah, she was wearing stockings . . . and garters. And they . . . He closed his eyes and said hoarsely, “You’re keeping the damn panties on. You need to tell me where in the hell you got them because I want to buy stock in the place.” Tangling his hands in the layers of skirt and petticoat, he held all of it up to her waist and stared.
Black silk stretched over the round curve of her hips. He could see himself gripping those hips, holding her steady as he settled between her thighs and started to ride her. She’d cradle him just perfect, all lush curves and sweet heat. Dark silk encased her thighs and those thighs . . . damn. A thing of beauty, he knew.
The straps of her garters ran down from her panties to hold up her stockings and he slid one finger under the strap lightly as he leaned in and pressed his mouth to her.
Abby gasped and braced her hand against his shoulder. “Zach . . .”
And before he let himself do anything else, he stood up.