No, wait, lemme count again…
Yup, I was wrong. It’s a fuck-load of them, ranging from a children’s book—you read that right—to a ‘hope-to-make-it-dark’ erotic paranormal romance. I’m swamped. At the rate life is allowing me to write, I suppose I’ll be done with all of them by the time I’m ninety, assuming new ideas stop attacking me.
At least I’ve managed to prioritize things for now, and put everything but three manuscripts aside. One I’m almost finished with, and I thought I’d give you a little snippet, so you get a taste of what I’m working on.
The Tenant – Coming August 2014
Derek mumbled a curse under his breath when the first notes of his ringtone played again, this time right by his ear. Whoever was calling wouldn’t give up. He pressed the little green button with all the fury he usually reserved for fantasies that involved kicking Catherine on her ass after she came groveling for him to take her back.
“What?” he yelled into the receiver.
“I see you’re even politer over the phone than you are in person.” The female voice was irritated and condescending.
The tone more than the voice sounded familiar, yet Derek couldn’t identify the caller. “Who’s this?” His body had an instinctive reaction to the woman on the other end of the line, and it wasn’t a positive one. His fingers tensed on the receiver, his eyes squeezed shut, and the headache the song had birthed now threatened to make his skull explode.
“Amanda Murphy. Your landlady.”
Amanda? “Oh. Mandi.” No wonder he felt like punching something. “Morning, Sunshine. What’s got your panties in a bunch this fine day?” And why on earth did he have to pay for it?
“You. You’re the reason I’m not enjoying this fine afternoon, and I want you to fix that!”
Derek smirked against his pillow at the impatience lacing her words. Infuriating as she was, baiting her would be delightful. “I’m honored to be the one bunching your tidy-whities, but don’t you have a fiancé who’s supposed to take care of that?”
There was silence over the receiver for a couple of heartbeats, before she obviously caught on to what he’d just said. “You…you…you insufferable ass—”
“Not that I don’t enjoy a little dirty talk in the morning, but again, is there a reason for this phone-call other than to get me hot and bothered?” He was neither hot nor bothered, to be honest. Miss Hissy-Fit didn’t do it for him; he liked his women darker, inside and out. He was, however, more amused than he’d been in a while.
He heard her take a long breath and let it out slowly. When she spoke again, she sounded a lot calmer—she would have sounded completely composed, if he hadn’t heard her impatiently tapping her fingers. “Derek,” she said, “I’m sure you’re a rational person deep down. You do a great job of hiding it, but I’m sure you’re nicer than this. I mean, my mother and father seem to think you’re a kind, decent man, and I admit the way we met was awkward. I’ve been under a lot of pressure with the wedding, and I’m willing to apologize for being rude. If you could just move out by Monday—”
He laughed. She was willing to apologize for being rude, if he was willing to go out of his way to accommodate her.
This hot male specimen is my inspiration for Derek, and he’s also my cover model.