Word Count: 11792
What story I’m currently working on:
Just reached 22k in Rehoboth Pact #3, and I definitely know where I want this story to go. Kyle and Chelsea are a mess of complexities, and I’m really enjoying the ride so far. I’ve been headfirst into this series for the entirety of quarantine, so it’ll be really weird once it’s done. Then I’ll have to figure out what’s next on the agenda–it should definitely be continuing one of my series, whether it’s Outlaws, Eros Tales (soon to be Charmed in Charleston), or the final Discord’s Desire book.
What I’m editing/marketing:
Well, I do have plenty of feedback to start editing Rehoboth Pact #2, but I’m in such a swing with writing the third book that I don’t want to put it on pause. I’ll probably wait another week or two before diving into those edits. I got the cover and finished edits for Tempting Ballad, which is perfect because the book is coming out on July 3rd! I’m pretty damn excited for this release. And then next on the agenda is Waking for Winter in September, and I think that’s it for my releases this year, unless something drastically changes. That’s okay though, because I’ve got a bunch of completed works just waiting for homes or releases that’ll hit next year, so hurray! (Like my whole Rehoboth Pact trilogy lol)
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Teaser of the week:
Currently listening to:
Line of the week:
The guy smelled like he’d drowned himself in Nautica Voyage, which mixed horribly with his leather pants and sweat combo he was toting along with him. The man was all muscles and annoyance, the exact sort of fucker she’d been looking to avoid at the usual bars. She tended to draw frat guys and assholes in like ants to sugar, and she wanted to know how to turn that shitty ability off.
Kyle had gotten quieter the moment he sat down next to them, and all Chelsea wanted to do was scream that she had no interest in this jackwad.
“How do you know you wouldn’t like switching if you’ve never tried being a submissive?” The guy asked in a rich voice that attempted cocky but came out more like a whine.
Chelsea pursed her lips, her nose wrinkling on instinct. “Just like you know you wouldn’t want me shoving an eight inch dildo up your virgin ass,” she shot back. She couldn’t tell for sure, but her instincts were screaming that he was the sort who clung to his fragile masculinity like a baby blanket, using the title of Dom to get domineering with women, not dominant.
World of fucking difference.