Word Count: 9086
What story I’m currently working on:
Well. I had plans of focusing on one book, taking my time, blah, blah, blah. However, both Tempting Ballad and Pomegranate Kiss have been vying for my attention all week. Tempting Ballad’s currently at 5k, while Pomegranate Kiss elevated to 7! I’m trying to put some distance between me and A Thief’s Crusade and the distraction is working. Both couples are going to be SCORCHING too. I’m really excited to keep jamming away at these.
What I’m editing/marketing:
Slogging through the intensive edit of Outlier Heir, which is an interesting experiment in distance, patience, and the power of editing. Whether you’re looking to dive into paranormal romance or contemporary, I’ve got some fresh reads for you! In the PNR category, I’ve got Siren’s Call out for free, Hypnotizing Beat, and if you want lighter, try Color of a Soul. I’m also prepping for July when I have not only the relaunch of my Philadelphia Coven Chronicles with Hunting for Spring, but the brand new launch of the Eros Tales series, starting with Taking Root!
Join my brigade:
Teaser of the week:
Currently listening to:
Line of the week:
“I bet the clients come pouring in just for your award-winning attitude,” Mitch drawled, amusement in his eyes. He’d stopped piercing a couple of years ago for Inkspirations, but their friendship somehow weathered their born from the bowels of Hell dispositions.
“I’m not paid to pontificate, dickbag,” Lex continued. Truth be told, she owed Mitch a lot. He was one of the few friends who stayed after she’d gotten locked up, and even though they didn’t work together any more, they still hung out, whether it was taking the bikes for a drive or catching a shitty horror movie.
“Busting out your thesaurus now?” he joked, his eyes crinkled at the edges with his smile.
“Ladies love a linguist,” Lex shot back even as she focused on the sweep of the lines. That fugue state she descended into when she inked began to set in—the hyper-concentration, the way her hand swerved in a mesmerizing rhythm of lines and edges, only interrupted when she blotted the ink and dabbed more on. She was head over heels for this piece and they’d just started at the base of his arm, with plans of eventually doing a full sleeve. It was a messload of death and destruction, the black lines of the skulls, the crows flying overhead, and the flickering candle at the base, as flame ran up through the scenes.