I love it when I’m in the groove. When ideas seem to flash like lightning bugs in a summer night.
For the past few months, writing has been work. “Work” being a four-letter word.
I trudged through the last Avon story, forced out another paranormal for Ellora’s Cave, then had to immediately dive into a three-part single title that’s due like yesterday. Really.
Good news is I think I’ve found my groove again. Pages have been coming the past few days the way they used to–complete scenes rolling like a film reel through my head, snippets of dialogue whispered into my ear by an unseen muse. I thought he’d deserted me.
Yeah, I think mine’s male. Grumpy, sometimes unmotivated and lazy. But ssssssmokin’ when he’s “on.” He was particularly horny today. Whew! Helps when he’s in the mood. I don’t have to work so hard. I just lie there…well sit here, actually…hands poised above the keys, waiting for him to come.
Afterwards, I escape outside for a cigarette, replay the scene in my head, decide if he’s too blue for Prime Time, and then head back for more. When he’s good, I’m insatiable! I think he likes cowboys–must be the big brass belt. I know I like finding what it hides when I peel open the belt, unsnap the button and slide that zipper down.
Mmm-mm. Just wrote a two-chapter love scene. Makes me edgy when I’m done. Loved sinking fingernail-deep into the long, slow ride. Maybe I’ll open up the file again and see if he’s recovered enough to go a little longer.
I’ve had my head down the past couple of months writing like there’s no tomorrow. Finished book three in the 
Then I open up the email and discover that 
