I finished all proofing and editing on the third Harper's Cove novella, Donna and Connor at 228 Harper's Cove.
I finished all proofing and editing on The Celtic Fan, the soon-to-be-released lost-for-13-years independent novel.
I finished all proofing and editing on Adventurous Me, a brand-new independent novel.
I worked up prototypes for the new covers for the Love Under Construction series. I decided I had to do it because, believe it or not, they're not suggestive enough. As someone I know said, "Fabio is your friend." (Yeah, that sound you hear is me wretching.) Also, I realized I'd have a hard time replicating the cover art in subsequent photo shoots, so this will be the easiest way to reach uniformity while still retaining the flavor of the original covers.
I think the photos for the cover of The Celtic Fan are going to be shot sometime this week. Then the real work on that will begin. As for Adventurous Me, I have no vision as to what that cover should look like, so I think I'm going to farm it out to a cover artist and just see what she comes up with. I'm very curious about that.
I'm working as fast as I can to bring you something new and different. Would you like an excerpt? I bet you would. So here's one from Adventurous Me.
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The rest of the evening passes quickly, primarily because
I’m in a state of shock. I see things I didn’t think I’d ever see, including a
gorgeous guy licking the boots of one of the homeliest women I’ve ever seen
while calling her his “supreme mistress.” That is an eye-opener. And I noticed
something else very strange – well, strange to me anyway.
“Dave?”
“Yeah, little one?”
“There are lots of guys around here without women. Some
of them keep looking at me, but none of them are coming over to talk to me. Are
they gay?” I’m used to being hit on at bars, but I’m not extremely attractive,
and these guys are. They’re really, really
hot.
“Nope. They’re not gay. Well, a couple of them may be
bi.” He stops for a second and my eyebrows shoot up. “But that’s not it.
You’re new. They’re watching. They don’t want to offend you by being too
forward. I’m sure the oldest ones in the bunch have figured out that you’re not in
the lifestyle, and they don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. They’re not
staring, are they?”
“Nope. They’re just sneaking glances.” It’s kind of
funny.
“That’s what I thought. Plus you’re not collared.” Ah.
Those funny necklaces with the padlocks. “They’re afraid you’re in here looking
for a Dom, and most of them just want to play, not collar a sub.” I assume that
collaring is some kind of ownership. That makes sense to me.
I decide to throw some furtive glances their way. One of
the guys is tall and blond, Viking-like in his coloring and build. There are a
couple of guys with medium-brown hair and nice tans, but they look like hard workers,
not beach bums hanging out just to brown. Maybe construction workers. Or
cowboys. And there’s another guy.
He didn’t stand out at first. When he glances my way I
look away. There’s something about his eyes, like they want to devour me. He’s
good-looking enough, wavy brown hair and a nice build, not heavy or stocky,
just muscular. I’ll be fifty next year; he looks to be maybe forty? But there’s
something about his face, his eyes actually, that just draws me in. I turn to
Dave.
“Hey, who’s the guy over there alone? The one with the
eyes.”
Dave looks at me like I’m nuts, then glances over my
shoulder. “Oh, that’s Master Clint. He’s had a rough couple of years. I’m
trying to get him to look for a sub to collar, but he’s resistant. Has his
hands full.”
“Full of what?” Now I’m curious.
“You’d have to ask him,” Dave tells me, and I swear I see
the corners of his mouth turn up just the tiniest bit. I feel like he’s just
issued me a challenge. I’m just trying to decide if I accept. “Think you’ll come back?” he asks, interrupting my reverie.
“I’d like to. Can I?”
“Sure! I’ll work out something with the membership fee.
And I’ll volunteer to be your trainer if you want.” He’s not smiling, just
looking at me like he’s waiting for me to decide.
Then it hits me. “Does that mean we’ll be having sex at
some point?”
“I don’t know any other way to train a sub so, yes, I’m
sure it will.”
There’s a second or two when I think I’m going to say no
and then, to my surprise, I say, “Yeah. Sure. You can be my trainer.” Where the hell did that come from?, my vacationing
brain screams.
“Okay. I’ll work up some kind of schedule for training
and give it to you to look over. It’ll probably take me a few days. In the
meantime, get yourself tested and bring in the results.” At first I think he
means for drugs, and then I realize what he’s talking about.
“I haven’t been with anyone except my
husb . . . ex in upwards of thirty years.”
“Yeah, but do you know where he’s been that entire time?” I see his point, and I shake my head.
“So get tested just to be on the safe side. Then we can proceed. Until then, if
it comes up in your training, we’ve got plenty of condoms around here.
Shouldn’t be a problem.” He says it so matter-of-factly that you’d think he
fucks some new sub trainee every day.
Well, maybe he does. “Have very many subs you’re
training?”
Dave laughs. He really looks sexy when he does that.
“Nope, little one. I haven’t trained a sub in eight years. And I’m not sure I
want to train you, but I am sure of one thing: I don’t want you getting hurt or
scared. As long as I’m training you, I know you’re safe. So I’m willing to do
it. Plus,” he says and winks, “you look like a good fuck.”
Have to admit, no one’s ever said that to me before, and I kind of like it.