Mid-week inspiration Try and Try and Try

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Mid-week inspiration Try and Try and Try

Its’ good to be back with you guys! I’ve had back to back releases, and double birthday so I’ve been slacking a bit on my posts. *Bashful expression. I sowwy.

I think Chuck from Supernatural may have said it first when he said simply. “Writing is Hard.”

I agree with this statement whole heartedly. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to not just do, but do well. In that vein on a weekly basis I want to throw my hands up and walk away. Of course I can’t. Writing is my monstrous addiction. The thing on my mind when I wake up and when I go to sleep, I love it at times and hate it others. It’s easy when it flows and the muse is in a giving mood, and difficult when that creativity slows to a crawl, and words are a like a drip from a faucet. But I keep coming back and always will. Why? Because I love it, and it’s in me, not to mention, it keeps me sane.

For me, my characters are a living thing. Like a sketch artist who creates a picture I listen and relay their stories. They’re persistent and opinionated. If they don’t like the way I’ve done something … well hell has no fury like a character scorned, oh you never heard that one? * innocent expression. I pour all I have into my writing. If you could look into my house you’d see me laugh, shed tears, cry out in protest, and a thousand other little gestures… You think I’m kidding. *arches eyebrow. Just ask the folks at the Starbuck’s by my house. I have to say… crying isn’t a good look in public.

At the end of some scenes I am spent, drained dry, and crawling in to bed where I close my eyes and crash. With every run through of a manuscript, new project, and new character I strive to do better. At time s I feel it! I’m so close I can taste the next level of writing I’ve been striving for. Those are the highs. The lows are uncomfortable. I’m stripped bare, out of my depth, and questioning every word. But that’s the growing spot. Through it all one thing remains the same. I continue to try. I attend classes, research my subjects, and listen to the reviews and comments. Good or bad I appreciate them because they help me grow. My daughter loves the song “Try” by Pink. It’s something we often sing when she’s having a hard time getting a handle on something. Be it putting on a trying pair of shoes, dealing with Mommy saying no. * she’s two , these things are a challenge, lol. It’s something I’ve adopted as my motto for writing.

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TRY

My latest creation was a result of stepping out of my comfort zone. It’s my first romantic suspense, and I have to say I’m addicted and dare I say damned proud?

Vixen Healed

Blurb

Eight years ago Claire’s’ life was shattered when her fiancée lost his life in a robbery protecting her. She’s picked up all the pieces and moved forward when the past returns. One of the robbers has been caught and she’s needed to testify. The feisty roller derby girl agrees with no qualms, but the murders’ partner has plans to silence her for good. She turns to Detective Kelly Quinn to keep her out of harm’s way. The attraction between them gives protective custody a whole new meaning.

Kelly never forgot Claire. He promised her once he’d see the murderous savages brought to justice and he’s a man of his word. Feelings of protectiveness become passion, and the possibility of the one thing he’s sworn off, love. Can they come together to heal the hurts of the past and carve out a future filled with happiness?

Excerpt

“We all have our dark side, C. You and I, we’ve seen some of the worst life has to offer. It changes a person.” He shook his head. “There’s no shame in that. Wear your scars like a badge. You’re still here, standing even though life knocked you flat on your back. That takes a lot of strength. More than some people have.”

“You saw me at my lowest.”

“Truth is that night you saved me. I was coming off of a long stint undercover and questioning the meaning of life, asking myself why I was still in this career field. When you’re a part of that seedy underbelly for so long, you lose hope. Especially, when money greases the wheels of justice and men who should be buried beneath the jail cell and not simply placed in it walk scot-free.” His chest ached as he was taken back to that time. “Then I met a beautiful girl who’d had her life destroyed by senseless violence, and it lit a fire under me, reaffirmed my decision to help others. When I made you that promise I meant it. I never forgot for one second. I’d pull the case file occasionally. See if any new leads had come up. Then I got a match, called you in to the office and had my mind completely blown. The young girl had grown up. But she was still hurting. I wanted to take that away. I still do.” He reached out to trace the curve of her heart-shaped face.

“This is me, who I am. I want you to see me the way you’ve allowed me to see you. All bullshit aside. I’m fair if I’m anything.” She studied him with dark eyes that held mysterious still be discovered.

“I like what I see, Kelly Quinn.”

“Aaah, I was hoping you’d say that.” He moved forward and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, moaning when she took control and nipped at his bottom lip. The love bite unleashed the passion he’d been holding back. He rolled her onto her back, making quick work of the tiny pearl buttons that kept her soft yellow baby doll pajama top together. He peeled back the layer, likening it to wrapping paper keeping him from candy. The bra she wore was a sheer, pink number that made his mouth water and his cock threaten to pop out of his boxer briefs.

Her Hershey kiss nipples strained against the material.

“Beautiful.” He leaned down and sucked a swollen nub into his mouth, exploring her curves with his hand. He slipped inside her waistband and traced the underwear.

“Mmmh, your underwear is soaked. Will your pussy be even wetter?”

“Why don’t you find out?” She stared down at him from her position, leaned back on her elbows. Her hair tumbled around her face and down her back like a raven waterfall. Her eyes had darkened to an almost black that smoldered.

He slipped a finger inside her panties and watched her lush lips part as he stroked her sodden lips.

“Well?” Her cheeky bravado made him chuckle.

“I think we can do better.” He circled her with his thumb before he eased inside her tight sheath. “Look at how tight you grip me.” He stroked her inside, circled her walls and licked his lips when she arched and gasped.

“It’s been a while.”

“How long is a while?”

“Eight years.” The words were so low he barely made them out. He paused mid-stroke.

“No, don’t stop.” She covered his hands and moved his fingers inside her. “I want to feel, to remember what it is to live fully. I’ve been surrounded by too much death and fear. It’s your turn to bring me back from the brink.” I’d never seen a more erotic sight than Claire getting herself off with my hands. His balls grew heavy, and he ached to move inside her. I have to make sure she’s ready, and take care. Make the most of the special gift she’s giving me. He hooked his finger, found the g-spot inside her, and she exploded. A creamy rush of honey spurted out and ran down his fingers.

“I’m going to need to see that a few more times at least.” He brought his hands up to his lips and popped them into his mouth. Salty, sweet, and delicious.

“Lift your hips.” She complied, still dazed, and he pulled down her underwear and shorts in one go. “Spread those sexy stems of yours for me.” A bashful expression crossed her face as he spread her legs even wider. He kneeled down and admired her neatly trimmed cunt. He spread her lips, dipped his tongue inside her molten core, and hummed his appreciation. He thrust inside and sipped her, swirling his tongue around as he played, pausing to flick her clit as he enjoyed his feast. Her throaty cries and moans inflamed him until he was fucking her with his tongue. She clamped down around him. Her thighs shut around his ears as she came. He drank her down. Her body went slack, her legs flopped open, and he sat back on his knees, pulling his stiff member out of the cotton containment. He rubbed the tip, dipped into the wealth of moisture that escaped from his slit.

“Are you ready for me, Claire?”

“God, yes.”

He leaned over to the left side of the bed and pulled out a square foil. He never fooled around with the women he brought home in his bedroom. That was his space. I’ll have to change that now. She sat up.