In a week when lots of us (me included) have a hard time keeping track of what day it is, I have actually already been doing my own countdown to the new year, because New Year's Eve is my last day at my current day-job, and I'll start at my new job January 6th. I guess I'm actually doing multiple countdowns this week...the countdown to my last day, the countdown to the new job, the countdown to the new year and new writing plans. That's kind of a lot. And I am really excited about all of it. Except for the shopping for appropriate work-wear, I'm not a fan of shopping, too many years in retail management for me to find enjoyment in that anymore, but that's why the internet was invented, right? Haha!
All those countdowns means I have multiple to-do lists at the moment--prepping to send back all my computer things to the current job when I wrap up Tuesday, followed by the list of things I'll need to do here in my office after I break that down (I'll get my writing desk back!), checking the wardrobe/orders to make sure I have adequate clothing for at least the first week, the normal weekly chores around the house, the writing goals for January, broken down from the writing goals for the first quarter, broken down from the writing goals for the entire year... It's probably a good thing I have a few days between old job and new job.
Before I get back to all the to-do lists, I have a quick snippet for you this week from Freeing Medusa.
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Katharine had had enough. Her skin tingled with need again, and her heart beat too fast. But she hadn’t seen any likely candidates–even a desperate Medusa had standards.
Which meant it was time to go home and break out a couple more vibrators to appease her overactive hormones. Dammit.
She took another sip from her glass, smiling at Ramona from her post on the deck. Her friend danced with someone she’d greeted enthusiastically half an hour ago. She hated to interrupt, but it was time to go home.
Katharine sighed and shifted her shoulders, trying to loosen the tight muscles there. She turned her gaze over the crowd one last time, and her breath caught in her chest. Him.
He was gorgeous, in a rugged sort of way. His nose had been broken at least once, a dimple dented his chin, and he had the brightest blue eyes she’d ever seen, black hair dipping over one of them. His green shirt stretched taut over strong shoulders and a wide chest, then tucked into a pair of jeans that fit nicely on narrow hips.
Her heartbeat quickened in anticipation.
Then he glanced away from his conversation with a shorter man and caught her eye. A slow smile curved his mouth as his gaze slid down the front of her, making her skin heat, then back up, lingering on her mouth.
Her lips tingled hopefully.
She took a drink from the cup she held. Whatever frozen thing Ramona had given her was melting and slushy, but she still tasted the bite of alcohol as it hit her tongue.
He moved away from the couple he was with, toward her, and her temperature rose a few more degrees. His long-legged stride was confident and unhurried.
No, damn him, he made her wait, pausing once to greet someone along the way.
She tightened her grip on the stem of the plastic cup and took a quick breath.
He finally stopped about two feet away, and she got a whiff of cologne, something musky that made her mouth water.
Her nipples tightened inside her vest.
“Hi.” His low tone raised goosebumps on her arms despite the warm evening.
“Hi.” She put out her right hand. “I’m Katharine Vardos.”
He smiled again, a slow curve of his lips that made heat spread in her belly, from the inside out, until her panties were damp when she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
He finally wrapped his long, strong fingers around hers. “Hunter Phelps. Nice to meet you.”
Heat shot up her arm from where he held her hand, rising into her face. “Are you a friend of Ramona’s?” She left her hand in his, her brain already imagining his long fingers elsewhere on her body. The mental images made her breathing quicken.
He shook his head, his thumb sliding across the back of her hand. “My buddy Lance is.” His bright gaze dropped to her mouth again.
She inhaled slowly. “Are you a dancer, Hunter?” Blue eyes she could drown in, she thought when he met her gaze once more.
“Occasionally,” he said, tightening his hold on her hand. “Was that an invitation?”
“Yes.” Oh, please let him say yes, she thought.
He set his barely-touched beer bottle on the deck railing, then took her cup and set it aside, too. “Let’s go.”
Katharine swallowed at the look in his eyes and let him steer her to the improvised dance floor just off the deck.
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Are you counting down to the new year, too, drowning in too many to-do lists? Or are you going to coast through the last few days of the old year? I'd love to hear!
Until next week, happy reading!