After spending four days at the Renaissance Woodbridge hotel in Iselin, New Jersey, for the New Jersey Romance Writers' Put Your Heart in a Book conference, it was tough to leave, tough to return to our normal lives (if "normal" applies to anything writers do).
I frequently have brilliant writing moments on my laptop at motels and hotels (no, I don't work for an escort service [grin] -- my husband and I also travel with our Whippets to dog events), and this time was no different. I suffered a sticking point while moving scenes around in ALOHA MAN, so I traipsed down to the hotel lobby with my trusty legal pad and pen, and began scribbling away. Even the late arrival of a boisterous wedding party didn't detract from my mission -- by half past midnight, I'd solved the timing issues, returned to my room, and hit the keyboard.
Hindsight being twenty/twenty, working on the manuscript so late at night wasn't my best move. My brain continued to work overtime, and I didn't fall asleep until about 4 a.m. It's like having a tune running around in your brain from which there is no escape (last night, it was ABBA songs from the movie Mama Mia). As traveling companion Nona Raines already mentioned, the conference was fantastic, and there was so much to remember -- one should plan on a good night's sleep to take it all in.
I had two successful "pitch" appointments on Saturday morning, at which I promoted my/our next Sophia Roslyn book, HER SPECIAL FORCES, an erotic ex-military-themed romance with strong suspense and PTSD issues. Sophia books are those on which I collaborate with my daughter, Gina. She comes up with fantastic ideas, and then says, "Okay, Mom, now you can write the book." Kids -- ya gotta love 'em. Our first collaboration was DRAGONETTI'S MOUNTAIN, a erotic romance romp with a slight touch of suspense.
Since this is Titillating Tuesday with Danica, I hope you enjoy this quickie excerpt from my upcoming release, ABOVE THE LAW:
Joe turned into a pillar of salt, then he choked out a single word.
He thought Abigail's bright blue eyes seemed darker, duskier. Maybe with emotion. Maybe with passion. Maybe with tequila.
"But, I thought you and Glennon . . . ."
She made a pouty face, totally unlike her.
"For once, Joe, don't think. Just kiss me."
Damn, she must have hit the margaritas early.
He leaned forward, pecked her on the lips. Okay, that felt too weird.
She made a face. "You call that a kiss? That was pitiful. Kiss me like you're serious."
"Abby, I don't know if this . . . ."
She grabbed his shirt, pulled him close. Her arms slid around his neck. "Now, kiss me, Collins. Properly."
His hands went to her waist, held her, then he leaned in. His mouth pressed against hers, hesitant at first. Then not so hesitant. Her lips were warm, soft, flavored like tequila, with a touch of sea salt. The tip of her tongue swept the inside of his lips, and he couldn't hold back the groan.
Joe's body reacted straight away with urgent need, without waiting for any direction from his brain. His sex immediately grew rigid behind the denim, and he pushed his hips against her. Oh, hell. His heart sank. This is not supposed to happen.
"Oh, God, Abby, I didn't intend . . . . "
She slid her hand down his torso until she reached his groin, then outlined the bulge in his jeans with her fingertips.
"But why now?"
"Because this is the right time. Long past the right time."
He groaned again, ran his hands down her firm back, over her slender hips. "Abby, you're awesome."
"Yes, she is."
Joe spun around like a little boy caught doing something naughty behind the barn.
Glennon leaned, tall and lazy, against the kitchen door frame, no sign of the shoulder sling.
"Don't stop on my account."
* * * * *
Danica St. Como