Hi folks, I just wanted to stop by the blog and let you know I’m taking a brief hiatus from writing after an accident last week. I tripped over while doing the weekly grocery shopping and fractured my arm, among some other not-so-awesome injuries.
I should be back on board in a few weeks, but for now, the Oct 15th planned “re-release” of Educating Ethan is on hold until later in the year.
Typing with one hand is definitely doable, but rather painstaking, I have to admit!
Here’s a little snippet from Educating Ethan to whet your appetite in the meantime (and no, this one isn’t erotic, just sexy!):
She gestured Ethan into the room and offered the tray of rolls, then poured lemonade into two frosted glasses and added a sprig of mint from her stash of fresh herbs on the windowsill. So what if her hands weren’t one hundred percent steady? He’d never notice. His eyes were clearly on the food. “I do a lot of my food preparation here, experimenting with new recipes, that sort of thing, so I need a big work area. This was originally two rooms, which I had knocked through into one. It’s the heart of my business, and I guess my home as well.”
It was hard to maintain eye contact as she spoke, with his magnificent chest bare to the world, the pinkish brown nipples puckered slightly in the air-conditioned room, and the faint sprinkling of dark hair that led downwards in an enticing line like a persistent arrow directing her wayward gaze. And her wayward gaze complied, whether she wanted it to or not, noting the curve of those thighs and the implicit strength in the coiled muscles as he moved forward to reach for another roll. She glanced only briefly this time but still he knew. She could tell in the amused curl of his lips as they lifted and the knowing way he slanted his eyes at her. So much for using food and drink to distract his attention.
He’s too young, she reminded herself. And he sure as hell won’t be thinking of me that way. He probably misses his mother’s cooking.
She took a deep, steadying breath. “Careful, Ethan. They’re really hot.”
There. A mother would say something like that. Wouldn’t she?
“But delicious.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he chewed and swallowed. He looked adorably young. She moved around to the other side of the island and gripped its edges. Now she couldn’t see anything below his hips. Much safer.
“What’s it called?” He spoke around the food, and for a moment, she wasn’t quite sure to what he was referring.
It’s called lust. Or maybe cradle snatching? “Umm…”
“Your catering company. What’s it called?”
“Oh!” Tension released from her shoulders as they ventured into a familiar topic of conversation. Work she could deal with. “Simply Delicious.”