Word Count: 14209
What story I’m currently working on:
Well, hot damn, the wordinating continues. I reached 44k with Forged Futures, which brings me closer and closer to the end zone. And I’m right on target, as we’re ramping up chapterwise to the big fights and such which will grace the end section of the book. This one was an easy joy to write–the words just leaked out of me, and I can’t believe I’m as far in with it as I am. And I’ve already started brainstorming for Forged Redemption, the final book in the series, which totally feels like an insane thing to say, considering this all started last year.
What I’m editing/marketing:
I did some more editing on The Lies We Weave and sent out some more submissions, and I’m doing some massive edits on Hunting for Spring, which will be coming out July 2019! But it’s been nonstop, because just as Forged Alliances had a re-release, Forged Decisions is already available for pre-order! I’m so excited for these books to reach everyone! And of course, Bustles and Bells is still up for consumption, and we’re reaching the prime time of the year for a steampunk Christmas anthology! On top of that, A Reflection of Ice, An Airship Named Desire, and Snatched are all 99 cents right now, and Stolen Petals is free!
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Teaser of the week:
Currently listening to:
Line of the week:
Her throat squeezed tight as she pushed herself up from the ground. She reached out to run her fingers along the tombstone, as if she could still touch him.
“Baby, you’re still with me,” she murmured, needing him, somehow to know that. “I might have found someone, but you’re always going to be a part of my life.” His warmth, like the sun, and the way he threw his whole body into hugs. His confidence had infected her when they were kids, led her to chase after dreams, whether it was starting a horror club back in school, or becoming a massage therapist, because she wanted to help people.
He had been a large part of the beginning of her life, and he would always be with her, every time she sang Bon Jovi off-key, or smelled the forsythia in the spring. She just couldn’t end here. Not yet.