Auld Lang Syne



Watching this video of the this past year in review has me thinking of all that I've gone through and accomplished in a year.
365 days, 52 weeks, 12 months
1/81st slice (on average) of my lifetime.
Such a small amount of time has moved me such an incredible distance across the board.
I'm a healthier person thanks to 2012



December 10, 2011





December 10, 2012

 

I'm a braver, kinder, stronger person in the last year. I took risks, I grabbed at chances, and jumped at opportunities.
I know that I have the potential to be whatever I want to be.
I know that I have the power to make things happen - me, just one person - just me.
I have gained confidence, experience, knowledge, energy and friendships and the understanding of how important the old ones are.

But 2012 wasn't all about gaining. I lost a lot too. 2012 was a no-holds-barred kind of year and with the highs going higher than I only ever dreamed possible the lows were much lower too. I lost a lot - and some losses were good (weight for one - and a lot of it) but mostly they were bad. We lost family this year, friends, and loved ones. The year was a full out tug of war between sheer joy and tragedy. Births, pregnancies, and proposals were abundant but only amongst the loss, despair, break-ups, and the deaths we all mourned.

It's amazing how much can change in so little time - how much one person can change - how big one life, one ripple in the pond can reach. I was blessed to be here, in this community, even in the midst of all the losses we felt personally -- to be here, where we reached out and separately united and shared in an epidemic of miracles. 

I've been blessed beyond measure.
I've been transformed.
I've been published.
I've been let down.
I've been lifted up.
I've been touched.
I've been scared.
I've been cared for.
I've been shattered and heartbroken.
I've been healed and humbled.
I've crossed so many bridges, and rubbed so many elbows.
We've been shaken this year, that is certain, but we've also been recovered, helped -- saved by the selfless acts of kindness toward each other.

I'd like to make a New Years resolution for an even better year ahead. I just want to keep moving forward and trying to be the best me I can be. A better daughter, friend, wife, lover, writer, reader, human... I want to be gentler, bolder, tougher, softer, and kinder in the New Year. I want to write better, jump higher, run farther, smile brighter and open my eyes wider to see even more.
I have been so blessed to have the year I've had with 2012. So blessed. I cannot even count all the ways but I want to be more, bigger, brighter, better. I know that 2013 has the capacity to be that, more -- so much more.

Leave a comment and tell me what your resolutions are for this next year and I'll leave you with this one last thought ... (and one of the most romantic movie clips of all time by an incredibly funny writer that, sadly, we lost this year ...) 

Anyway it's about old friends...

Just Her Luck (Whisper Hollow Book 2)

Just Her Luck
Available in eBook
Deceber 31, 2012

 

 

*Excerpt*

Ronnie Noel Hilt was seated on a barstool swirling a straw around in her Blue Bahama Breeze. The sugared rim crumbled along the counter of Lucky’s Bar.  It was a hole in the wall but it was her twin sister Reagan’s favorite place. That’s who she was supposed to be meeting along with her younger sister Candace.  

                Ronnie had just received two back to back cancelation text messages, from first Candace and then from Reagan.  They were bailing on her… again.

She was lonely and disappointed. She’d skipped lunch and dinner so that she could afford to drink tonight. So she immediately signaled for the bartender to bring her another drink even though the one in front of her wasn’t even close to being finished.

  The amount of alcohol she had plans of consuming would require her to work out for the vast majority of tomorrow but – so be it. Tomorrow was supposed to be reserved for brunch and mani-pedis with the girls but she figured they were going to bail on her again anyway. It had certainly been the pattern as of late.

            Ronnie had a perfectly fulfilling life. She was a very good, much sought after Financial Analyst.  She had a beautiful shabby chic home.  And besides this sudden inability to get together with her sisters, she was alright on the friend front.  

She had a very regimented and happy life. She was successful and talented - beautiful in that petite athletic way. With her long wavy blonde hair, hazel eyes, her fit, trim body, and a cool as ice veneer she didn’t hurt too badly for male companionship.  She was single because she wanted to be – not because she couldn’t hook a man.  She could hook a man alright.  She just hadn’t found any worth keeping.

But something was off. Something had been off ever since Reagan had gone and fallen in love. It had left Ronnie feeling a little aimless. She did not like things to change. She was not a fan of the unknown. She liked to be in charge. 
            Ronnie was floating and felt herself clinging to everything with white knuckles to stay grounded and centered. With the dynamic of her sisterhood and her twinhood being tested she felt more out of control than she’d felt in a very long time.

With all that weighing on her she was determined to have a good time tonight. She was going to enjoy the feel of this small town bar, and this unnaturally blue colored drink and forget that she’d been stood up by the two people she cared about the most … again.

 Just as she had set out to do just that she felt someone come up behind her.

            “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this … alone?” 

            Ronnie turned around on her stool and wasn’t surprised to find Joe Aarons but was surprised by the sudden goose bumps that ran down her arm at his whisper. 

            Alright, she lied. Maybe she was hurting a little in the romance department. Obviously, her body was in the first rung of desperation if it was reacting to the Joe Aarons of the world.

            “Probably the same thing a guy like you is doing in a place like this … alone.” 

            He laughed at that as he eased himself on to the stool beside her. 

            It wasn’t that Joe wasn’t good looking because at six foot something with those wide as a house shoulders, long legs that seemed to move at their own easy pace, a body as hard and defined and as ridged as steel, strawberry kissed blonde hair and warm chocolate brown eyes he wasn’t difficult to look at. He was just not Ronnie’s type. 

            Ronnie didn’t waste time on guys who didn’t match up well with her Perfect Man List. Joe was basically the opposite of what she was looking for. For starters Joe’s job was just too dangerous and too uncertain. She liked stable men, the kind of men who were solid and dependable.  

             And Joe was basically her walking, talking anti-Mr. Perfect.

            “Taking the edge off?” Joe’s raised brow was aimed at her two melting brilliantly Blue Bahama Breezes.

            “Something like that.” Ronnie leaned in and licked some sugar off of her rim. When his gaze darkened and fell to her tongue, tracing the edge of the glass, a spike of awareness rippled through her. She swallowed hard and looked away pressing the cold drink to the rushing pulse at the inside of her wrist.  She was honestly not trying to seduce him but things like this happened every time they were together.

            “Better make it a tall one Bud,” Joe signaled to the bartender. 

            Ronnie took in the tightness of Joe’s shoulders, the dampened hair at his temples, and the bead of sweat trailing down the back of his neck past the collar of his shirt.  Judging by the way his police uniform was clinging to his skin, and the exhaustion in his brow she knew that he’d just gotten off his shift.

            “A hard day of writing parking tickets Officer?” Ronnie flipped her long golden hair over her shoulder and shot him a tongue-in-cheek smile.

            He sent her his signature Joe grin. “Yeah, I think I’m coming down with a case of carpal tunnel.”  He nodded his thanks at the bartender who sat his tall frosted mug of beer down in front of him.

            She stopped sipping long enough to say to him from around her straw, “That’s not from the ticket writing.”  

            Joe looked surprised enough that he was nearly ready to spit out his beer but he swallowed and then surprised her by leaning in real close and trailing a finger down the exposed skin of her arm. “Oh honey.” His deep low timbre of a voice slipped over her like warm velvet, tripping something deep in her gut. “I rarely have to do that myself.”

            She shot him an unimpressed glance.  He sat back in his seat, took a swing of beer and smirked. She rolled her eyes at him. “I doubt that’s true.”

            “Oh it is,” he assured her with a cocky wink that had her fighting her own smile. “There’s an opening in the schedule tonight though … I could pencil you in.”

            A laugh escaped Ronnie’s throat. “Joe, there is absolutely no way, not even if hell froze over and we were the last two people on earth, not even if there was a gun held to my head.” Her gaze fell to the holster at his hip. A cool tremor ran through her. “Would I ever agree to sleep with you.”

            Joe then leaned forward invading her space again. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear enough.” He waited until Ronnie had brought her gaze back to his. “There wouldn’t be any sleeping involved.”

Lucky Enough

Available November 5th 2012

www.Lsbooks.com

 

Blurb

 

Reagan Hilt is down on her luck after a recent breakup that leaves her with an expensive wedding to pay for that never even happened. Not to mention she already has two sisters meddling in her business and a sleazy landlord knocking on her door. The last thing Reagan needs is a hot guy sniffing around who may or may not be the father of the teen girl she’s been court appointed to mentor. He should have been off-limits, and would have been if he didn’t blow her world away with every one of his kisses.

Reed Morely’s daughter was just dropped in his lap after his piece-of-work ex-wife kept her from him for years. She’s no longer daddy’s little girl but a nose-pierced, smart-mouthed teenager. Being a father is suddenly a full-time job and trying to make up for lost time has Reed attempting to keep his hands off his daughter’s pretty mentor.

Reagan and Reed have their hands full already, but when they’re confronted with their pasts, and with the odds stacked against them, they’re left wondering if they could ever be lucky enough to have it all.

 

*Special Sneak Peek Excerpt*

 

 

“The last time I saw her she’d been an angel,” Reed said about his now fifteen-year-old daughter Chloe. He was talking to his best friend, business partner and pseudo-younger brother Tad Dundee. “Now, she’s a … hellion.”

Tad laughed at his friend. “God, do you remember what I was like at fifteen? What Chloe’s mom had been like at fifteen? Jesus.” Tad swore under his breath. “I don’t envy you at all.”

“Callahan’s set to go,” Shea the seventeen-year-old part-timer announced about their most lucrative customer’s car. Donald Callahan was the richest man in Whisper Hollow and brought all his cars to R&T Automotive when he could well afford to take them to the fancier shops in Glenn Hill, the town over, or straight to the dealer.

“Okay, park it out back,” Tad hollered.

“Reed?”

Reed stood up from underneath the hood of the car he was working on. His arm was elbow-deep into the engine and getting greasier and more cut up with every turn of the wrench. “Yeah?” He pulled out of the engine, wiping his hands on a rag.

“I need to go to the store. Can I take the car?” Chloe twirled a strand of her dark red hair. She’d put highlights in it and had somehow made the underside black. She had flawless tanned skin that—God help him—she liked to show off. Thank goodness it was December. She was tiny and petite but guys were noticing her, and she was Reed’s constant worry.

“Absolutely not.” Reed laughed, which only gained him crossed arms and raised eyebrows.

“Why not? I have my permit?” she debated, and it was really a silly debate.

“Exactly. You have a permit. Not a license,” Reed pointed out.

“I’ll be careful. It’s only a couple of blocks.”

“I’ll take you to the store later. Or you could walk.”

“It’s like eighteen below out there!”

“It’s not eighteen below.” Reed laughed. “You just need to get acclimatized again. Taking a couple of blocks walk should help you start.” Reed was holding firm. The law was the law, and he drew the line at breaking it.

Chloe threw her hands up and groaned in exasperation. “You’re impossible to reason with.” She went back into the office with a loud slam of the door and a rattle of the windows.

Tad shook his head. “Reed? She calls you Reed?”

Reed didn’t find anything funny about that at all. He’d picked her up from the airport Friday night. The whole weekend had been awkward. Reed hadn’t seen Chloe in three years and not for lack of trying. He just hadn’t had the funds to fly out to Hawaii often to visit her, and Amanda, her mother, hadn’t been very accommodating either.

Now that Amanda was getting married she wanted some time to spend alone with the guy. So she’d shipped Chloe to Michigan to her father. The plan was that Chloe would go back home after summer vacation, after Amanda and Jason were “settled.”

He’d been so excited to see her. She used to be his shadow. He’d had the perfect, adoring, mild-mannered daughter. Reed’s sweet little princess had pierced her nose and had begun calling him by his first name.

“Yeah.” Reed rolled his eyes. “Her first night home, I take her out to that place down on Rochester in Glenn Hill, with the peanut shells you toss onto the floor.”

“Randall’s Roadhouse?” one of the other mechanics working on another vehicle supplied.

“Yeah, Randall’s, and while she’s in the bathroom, I do something nice for her. I remember what her favorite used to be and I order it for her. I get her the steak and sweet potato for the side instead of fries, and I get it loaded with marshmallows and bacon like she likes.” Reed stops and still in bewilderment shakes his head. “She comes back to the table. They bring us the food and she throws a fit. Apparently she’s a vegetarian and she doesn’t just refuse to eat the steak and order something else, she doesn’t want to eat at all anymore. ‘Lost her appetite’ apparently and she demands I take her home or she’s going to make a scene.”

“Well, what’d you do?” Tad asked.

“I took her home.”

“How’d you think you’re doing there, Pops?” Tad grinned ear to ear, obviously enjoying Reed’s agony.

Before Reed could answer him there was a loud boom. Reed threw the hood down, shot Tad a look, and he and the rest of the mechanics hurried out the back to get a look at what was happening in the parking lot.

Shea the part-timer was pacing back and forth in front of Reed’s smashed truck, giving Chloe the tongue-lashing of the century. Seeing his rear end muddled with Callahan’s front end he couldn’t decide if he wanted to cut Shea off and take over himself or start ripping into Shea for talking to his daughter like that.

Chloe had her hands on her hips, and Reed fought back a grin. She sure was no shrinking violet. She was digging him an early grave, and he could feel the gray hairs sprouting up out of his head, but he doubted he’d ever have to worry about his daughter being a doormat.

“How do I think I’m doing?” Reed looked over at an ashen-faced, slack-jawed Tad and said with only a quarter of the sarcasm he felt, “Just fine.”

 

 

 

Keep up with me everyday at www.facebook.com/KbEvans



Why I'm not using a pen name.

Lots of authors use a pen name and they do so for various reasons. There's also a lot of reasons I have no intention of using one. Here's my list.

1.) I like my name.
It's short. It's sweet. It's easy to remember. Kelli Evans. It's not complicated. It's not difficult to pronounce or search for and it sounds just hip enough to be the name of an author of the types of books I write.
 
2.) This is who I am.
I've never felt more defined by a description in my life than I am by this one word - writer. I eat, breathe, sleep, and sweat this stuff. I never take a break. Sure, there are times when I'm not at the keyboard but my brain is going nonstop. There are times when I'm doing dishes, watching TV or having tea with a friend and I'll have to stop (some times in mid-sentence) to jot something down or to text myself an e-mail about a plot twist, or a new idea for a story, or maybe it's that elusive last line.  I'm not a preschool teacher, firefighter, EMT, Hairdresser, fact checker, financial analyst first and foremost, I'm a writer. This is not my hobby this is my life. It's what I do and it's who I am.

3.) Lastly and arguably most importantly I am not ashamed.
I am not ashamed of what I write. I'm proud. Romance is the most widely read genre in America. Why on earth would I be ashamed of that? My heroines are strong women who find happiness AND partnership. My books are funny, smart and sexy. Yes, I write descriptive sex scenes but ALL my scenes are descriptive.
What in the world is wrong with sex? It's natural, it's normal, it's everywhere. You watch it protrayed in movies and on TV. What about Ian Fleming do we chastise him for writing sex into James Bond books? Do we question whether Stephen King has ever actually killed someone? Is JK Rowling really a warlock?
So why then do people think romance writers are sluts? Why does the sex in my books have to be derivitives of my own personal experiences? Why then are my books considered smut? Why is female satisfaction so scary that a book that writes about that is labeled filth? Porn? Trash?
I don't know.
But I'm not ashamed of it. Even if I have to go around and own that word, just like left-winged politcians have done with the word libral, or what rap artists have done with the "n word." If I have to own the word smut then so be it.
But I refuse - I refuse to hide from it. I'm not ashamed to write romance novels, I'm not ashamed to read them, and I'm not going to hide from those who are afraid of them or know really too little about them to understand what they are.

This is my name, my REAL name. Kelli Evans and for the forseeable future that's what you'll find all my books written under. I hope you dive into one of them. Even if you've never picked up a romance before. Give it a shot. I can pretty much promise that it won't bite ... unless you like that kind of thing ;)     

How it all began.

So I thought it was probably time to catch you all up...

It's been a crazy month and it will, no doubt, get crazier.
In case you somehow missed it, I have a contracted book in the works. Although, I don't know how you would have missed that I've been singing it from the rooftops but either way...
My book has an ISBN number :D and I have a tentative release date :D
I really still can't believe that this is my life. It's crazy. I'm so fortunate that I've made it this far but I'm greedy and I want more. I want a career in this. I want to build a life on my writing and a name for myself. It doesn't have to be a big name (it'd be nice) but a nice steady loyal fan base would do.

During this experience I've been asked frequently and repeatedly when I started writing. I think to explain that fully we need to backtrack quite a ways - all the way back to fifth grade.

*Insert Wayne's World flashback noise*

I'd always been a voracious reader. At the time I was really into choose-your-own-adventure stories but my mom always put a limit on the number of books we could check out at one time. My brother, was not as interested in books as I was, took the whole twenty-eight days to get to his and even then he usually barely touched them.
I was done with my books in about a week. My Mom then put a cap on how many choose-your-own-adventure books I could take out at a time. If I wanted something that would last me longer than a couple days than I had to chose more difficult books. Which wasn’t really a problem I've always loved books.

Sometime in fifth grade we were given an assignment, after reading with the whole class My Side Of The Mountain, we had to use some of the words we learned in the book to create our own sentences. Many of the students used up all the vocabulary words in a paragraph and if not a paragraph at least a page.
Mine was about twelve pages long and a complete story. The teacher, Mrs. Snogren, held onto that assignment until Parent Teacher Conferences where she gave the story to my parents and told them that this was uncommon - the other students hadn't responded to the writing prompt quite like I had.

I have to tell you this story before I can continue with the one I'm telling you now. I wanted to be a singer. I was obsessed with music. I stayed inside most of the summer between fourth and fifth grade watching MTV. I was well-versed in my Beck, Beastie Boys and Fiona Apple by utter default. I wanted to be a singer - probably mostly due to the fact that I was convinced becoming famous was the only way to nab me Taylor Hanson.
I knew the whole bands shoe size. I knew their middle names and the names of their first girlfriends - their home town. It was a sick, ugly obsession that manifested itself in life-size posters all over my walls, their names appeared on every planner, notebook - thing I owned.
I sat in my room playing out our future with Barbies while their c.d. played over and over. I knew that we were soul-mates but he had to meet me - he just had to. How could he possibly know how perfect we were for each other if he never met me? I needed to reach stardom and I liked singing and I was good at writing songs - Perfect!

Except it wasn't so perfect.

I was horrible. Glass shattered when I sang - ear drums ruptured and no matter how many times I tried out for that solo in music class - no matter how many times I didn't get it - no matter how many times she told me that I was better in a group - I just never got it through my thick-Taylor-Hanson-Obsessed skull.
Until the day my brother begged my mother "Make her stop! Please make her stop!" It wasn't him. It wasn't his begging. He was musically beneath me. He didn't know good music and talent when it was right in front of him. No, it wasn't my brother - but what my Mother did next that put the tiny pin prick in my hopes and dreams.
She didn't tell him that I was a musical prodigy. She didn't tell him that I had the voice of an angel. She didn't tell him I was the next Britney Spears. She gave him earplugs...
Earplugs!
But while it was devastating it had after all only been a pinprick so I locked myself in my room with my leaflets of songs I'd written spread out in front of me and I belted out my Kelli Originals into my recording Karaoke machine.
It was when my parents came home from parent teacher conferences and showed me the story I'd written months ago for class that everything began to change. My singing annoyed them - my Hanson obsession exasperated them (especially when it led us to an entire amphitheater of screaming pre-teens) but this - this they seemed proud of.
My mom, who you've probably already realized, is not one of those blindly supportive American Idol type mothers. She doesn't mince words. While she never out and out told me that I sucked and couldn't hold a note she never encouraged the dream either.
She said to me "Kelli, why don't you become a writer instead."
"A writer?" I asked. I'd apparently never put two and two together before.
"Yes someone who writes books? An author?"
"People do that?" I exclaimed

Wheels were turning and things started clicking in my head and in my heart. I loved books - my favorite part of singing had been the lyrics I'd joyfully and dutifully jotted down whenever the inspiration hit.
I could do that. I could write books. Since then I've been creating stories, worlds, and characters. I wrote my very first completed book in paper and pencil when I was twelve years old. In middle school my best-friend and I wrote books all day long together switching off notebooks of stories between every period - this lasted into high school - where it died down considerably.
Reality had begun to be kicked into our brains. Other kids were taking the SATs - I didn't. Other kids were stressing about what University they were going to get accepted into - not me. I knew what I wanted to do and I didn't need schooling for it.
I went to Delta that fall majoring in Libral Arts. I had a teacher, Pat Haller - who later turned out to be one of the most inspirational teachers I've ever had, asked me what I was going to do with that degree.
I told her dreamily - in a way only a dewy-faced Freshman could that I was going to be an Author. She laughed and said good luck and that I should have a back-up plan.
I was lost and disheartened after that. I spent the next three years, flunking out of school. I spent four years getting my Associates degree (of which I still don't have.)
I had no drive. There were things I'd found passing interest in. I love sign language but Delta only had a feeder program for translators and I thought about that old adage - "Those who can't do - Teach" I decided to become an English Teacher but the market just isn't there and I didn't have the drive.
About four years after I graduated high school I started writing again. It was at first something I did in my spare time - or just before bed. I was doing it on sheets of ruled paper - just like I'd done in Middle School. It wasn't until a plot had developed and an old friend had come back into my life that I started talking about that old dream that I'd had.
I went back to school that fall. I still had no idea where I was heading but I had to take Patrica's class over again to beef up my GPA. But my attitude was different. I was different. For the first time in a long time I was putting my needs first and I was all business.
My relationship with Pat was amazing this time around. I've learned so much from her that I don't think I would have been able to get where I am without taking her class (twice.) This time I wasn't listening to anything anyone had to say - except for maybe Kanye, who I'd read an article on once where he'd been asked by the journalist what his plan b was? Kanye answered by saying that if he'd had a backup plan that's what he'd be doing, if he'd had a plan to fall back on he wouldn't have made it to where he is today.
After that semester I went full-force. I was writing full-time - all the time and my husband was endlessly supportive. I joined RWA. I went to conferences; I read newsletters and articles about the business. I pitched my books and then one day I got some nibbles and those nibbles turned into a bite and now here I am with one foot in the door...
It's taken me a lifetime to get here and I've still got a long way to go but it's been a driving force, for basically my whole life. I need this. This is who I am. It's the only thing I know. I have to make it. This has to work - which means I  have to work. I have no other choice. I have no Plan B. This is it.

Meeting Susan Elizabeth Phillips

So this was my very first conventional book signing. The only other books I've ever gotten signed for myself was earlier this year at the Lori Foster Reader Author Get Together (which was so much fun btw)
This started at 7pm last night at Schuler's Books and Music in Lansing. I'm not from Lansing so there was a bit of a drive involved for me and we showed up late. My mother (who thinks she's my manager) sneaks us across the back of the space and into two vacant seats.
I'm not sure what we missed but what I got a chance to see and hear was beyond entertaining.
I always love to report when an author is down to Earth and lovely to be around and I can't say anything different about Susan.
She did the last portion of her talk holding a fan's cooing baby. It was adorable.
She went into great detail about how she came about with the idea for The Great Escape (her newest release - go get it now) and then laughed with us.
While we were being excused by rows to go up and get our books signed the people on either side of us began speaking to each other (because they knew each other) and I found myself in conversation with other writers! That's always super exciting, but then I found out that they are members of my local RWA chapter - which I've been thinking of joining and never getting around to for quite awhile now - well almost a year. They were fabulous and hilarious and seemed like a wealth of information and thanks to my manager-spirited mother I think I was personally invited to join. I think that was something that was in my near future anyways.
Then it was my turn to get my book signed and Susan Elizabeth Phillips was so great. She commented on my "well-loved" books saying they were her favorite kinds to sign. She also razzed my mother a little about her camera abilities. It was fun and even though we were late I had such a great time.




But this guys is the cherry on top. I opened my e-mail this morning to find my second contract sitting there waiting for me. I'm so excited to start this leg of my journey and I'm even more excited that I have all of you to celebrate with me when I pick a publisher and sign my name on that dotted line :)

Bad Boys & Why We LOVE them.

I've decided that I need another bad boy in my life. It's a little early to start on another book since I'm not currently done with the one I'm working on right now but let's dish a little. What is it about a bad boy that draws us in? 

FYI some of your ideas may help me shape my next hero so let's make this one amazing discussion. ;)

Sneek peak excerpt from Lucky Enough

Here guys I've been thinking I needed to give you a glimpse at something you haven't seen before. So here's a quick little excerpt of the book that is currently sitting in editor's inboxes.  It's from the very first book in The Whisper Hollow Series from a book called Lucky Enough. Enjoy!!

"She took a peek behind her after she rounded the corner and she caught a glimpse of her ex looking around for her. She hoped he didn’t spot her a second time. That’s when she startled a man who was coming out of the bathroom. The ladies room must have been at the other end of the hall. She had nowhere to turn.

“Reagan!” Lance called out to her. She couldn’t turn back and she obviously couldn’t go forward…or could she?

She looked up at the guy in front of her and let out the breath of air she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Hi,” she whispered but she spoke quickly because she could hear Lance’s footsteps behind her and he was gaining ground. “Wow,” she spoke and the guy bunched his brows together and smiled down at her. “You are…really good looking.” The smile grew larger and her heart started racing.

“Reagan!” She heard behind her again only so much closer now.

“Ok. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Even his voice was delicious. Low and deep and with just the right amount of gruff texture that it made her knees weak.

“For what I’m about to do.” He had a mint in his mouth that made his breath smell so good. She licked her lips but his – his were already damp. She could tell that he was the kind of guy who just always had those kiss-ready-lips. She was crazy for kiss-ready-lips. He had hair that fell in front of his eyes that women yearned to find on a man just so they could push it out of the way, run their fingers through it and maybe even pull on it a little.

“Reagan? Can’t you hear me hollering for you?”

“Please, please, please with one million cherries on top – just follow my lead.” She then reached up, shoved her hand up the back of his head, threaded her fingers into his thick brown hair and pulled his lips to hers.

He was surprisingly easy to convince. Her only thought had been to prove to Lance that she didn’t need him. She had moved on and the fact that this guy that she was kissing was way hotter was just an added bonus. But then their lips touched…and Lance disappeared…and with him so did everything else.

He kissed her. He really kissed her. Not just faked kissed her like she had hoped he would. He was blowing her top off. His arms wrapped around her waist and she tightened her arms around his neck. His tongue flicked against her lip and well … she didn’t make a habit of giving it away for free but she was not going to turn down this kiss with the hottest stranger she’d ever laid her eyes on. Hey – she never claimed to be on any moral high ground here but even if she was this was her weakness. Kisses. She loved a good kiss. And boy could this man kiss!

He kissed so well her mind was completely blown. She was just feeling- feeling his leg slide up between her thighs, feeling his hands run down her sides to cup her bottom, feeling his tongue slip into her mouth, sliding repetitively and teasingly against her tongue. She had goose bumps and heat flashes all at the same time. Her bones were gelatin. Her mind was mush and her insides…lava."

At the RAGT

This past weekend I was lucky enough to take part in The Annual Lori Foster Reader Author Get Together. Originally I had planned on just going as a Reader. When I found out I had the opportunity to sit down and pitch my book to an editor I took it. I ended up pitching my book to three different editors and they all wanted me to send something their way.

The first night of the event was work for me - work I love with my whole heart- but still work.

It was day two that I got to let my inner romance novel geek out and take it for a walk. My first stop was to see Jill Shalvis. If you haven't read her. I recommend that you start now. She's phenominal and garaunteed to just keep getting more popular.

Meeting with Lori Wilde was such a pleasure. She was so sweet and so funny and the two of us really hit it off. I have read Lori's Once Smitten Twice Shy so much that it has started to fall apart from being so well loved.

Carly was a pleasure to meet. Everyone was so great and down to Earth.  

Brenda Jackson is not only a wonderful author (check out her book Solid Soul) but listening to her talk about some of the things she has done since being published I've found that she is such an inspiration.

 And lastly one of the greatest parts of the event was leaving with more friends than you came in with. Some of them are aspiring writers just like me and some of them are the ever-important readers, but we were all there because we all have at least one thing in common - books!  

It was so great to meet all of these ladies. I can't wait to go back next year - and hopefully by then I'll be walking around with the word Author hanging around my neck :)