Happy Tuesday!
I hope you've all had a fab week with outrageously awesome things happening! Spring is coming in just a few short weeks and that always makes me happy~!
Thank you to all who supported The Solitude of Passion during its Kindle Countdown Deal sale. There's still one day left at 1.99 before the price bumps back up, so if you're interested, the deal has a few hours left!
Celestra Forever After news: It's done! It's officially in my editor's lovely hands. I hope she and my betas approve. If not, I'll rework until it sings. Also, the cover is under construction. I'd like to have something familiar, yet, new, borrowed, and blue... sounds like a wedding is afoot! And there might be. Maybe.
In a week or two I'll start to mix in teasers of my other works in progress, Whiskey Kisses and a sekrit project I've been tinkering on. I always enjoy one or two sekrit projects on the side. ;)
Onto the teasers!
The door swings open, only
it’s not the Oliver I was hoping for, it’s—
“Logan?”
My heart drops in my
stomach. He’s tall and bright-eyed and something is definitely off.
“Liam.” He puts his hand
out, and I gingerly take it.
“Oh,
God.” I’m completely without words. My knees shake, my insides liquefy at the
thought of who else might be in there. “Is Logan here?” I hold my breath
without meaning to. He’s got the same sweet eyes, same bone structure as Logan
but he looks like a bad boy through and through—more Brielle’s type than mine.
Then again, Brielle would be lucky to trade Drake for Liam.
“No.”
His shoulders drop, and he looks instantly sad for me. “You must be, Skyla.”
A
moment of silence bumps by as we take each other in.
“How
do you know?” Deep down, I suspect it’s a foolish question, but, selfishly, I
want him to tell me.
“Logan
never stops talking about you.” He gives a tiny grin and a bloom of sadness
rips through me. God, he looks so much like his brother. “Don’t worry, he left
out all the good parts.” He gives a little wink. “You want to come in?”
“Um,
no, that’s okay. Is Gage here?” I suck in my lower lip, suddenly self-conscious
of my patriotic standing. I foolishly charged to the door with nothing on but my
two-piece. I tried telling Brielle that wearing the American flag as a
glorified pasty spelled out all kinds of bad juju.
*Gah! I can't wait to share! It's entirely up to my editor and how much work it needs. Hopefully not a lot! Enjoy your week!
