I like your profile. Want to go out?
Fucking hell. Why is this such a pain in the ass?
Screw it. We’ll start out simple.
Hey. How was your day?
I hit send before I second-guess myself.
We’ll see if she actually opens my email—and answers. Hope she doesn’t fall head-over-heels, as sexy and red as they are, for the guy she’s having dinner with tonight.
Cocksucker.
ELEVEN
I take a long sip of my lukewarm coffee.
Ass in chair. Hands on keyboard. Ass in chair. Hands on keyboard.
This is my mantra. Today and every day until this book gets finished.
I’m against the wall. I either get to the halfway point by the end of the week, three days from now. Or I’ll have to push the release date, but that isn’t a great option. I don’t get paid until two full months after release month ends. I’m not sure I can cover my bills with the little bit of savings I have.
I’m going to write this book whether it sucks sweaty camel balls or not. I’ll fix it when I edit.
I stretch and wiggle my fingers to loosen them up.
I’m twelve thousand words into it. Another forty-eight thousand or so, and I’ll have a full-length book. That’s all.
Okay. Let’s do this.
“My lady, please, don’t spurn my attentions. Your father has promised me your hand in marriage.”
I turn up my nose. “Then we should wait until the banns have been read and the vows exchanged, sir.”
He comes close, his words soft in my ear. “Aye, we should. But we won’t. My manhood swells for you, its thirst great. You must quench it.”
My cheeks heat and my heart pounds under my breasts as he takes me in his arms.
“I fear I’m a wanton woman.” I swallow hard and lift my face to his, my hands clinging to his broad shoulders.
His lips brush mine and I’m carried to the heights of the heavens. Passion sweeps me up on the wings of a white dove as he ravishes my body and sears my soul with the heat of his own.
The chime of my doorbell peals through the house.
Great. Right as I was getting started.
When I open the door, my mom smiles and throws her arms out, doing her version of jazz hands. “Surprise!”
Oh geez. Now I’ll never get anything accomplished.
“What’re you doing here?”
She pushes past me into the living room, dragging a couple of shopping bags with her. “I came to visit my granddaughter, of course. Clarissa! Come see Granna.”
“I told you, she’s at Pat’s. It’s Matt’s visitation time.”
Mom’s face falls as if I’ve told her the sun won’t rise ever again. “Oh. I forgot.”
“I told you last week—for the third time.”
“I just can’t believe they take her for the entire month. It makes no sense to me.”
I smile sweetly. “He’s her father. They’re her grandparents. Just because he’s not interested in spending time with her, doesn’t mean that they aren’t. They love her too.”
Mom rolls her eyes. “Well, I know that. How could they not love her? But still.”
“Mom, let’s not go through this again. Please.”
She gives me a tired huff. “Fine. Why did you let me drive all the way down here and not even tell me she wasn’t here?”
“I would have gladly told you…if you’d have called before you came.” I try to keep the annoyance out of my tone. It never does any good with her anyway, she never seems to notice what tone I have. “What would you have done if I wasn’t here?”
“I have a key, silly. I’d have let myself in and set up these little gifts I got for my girl in her room.”
She means well. She really does. She does. She does.
“Hey, I’m working. And it’s been really hard lately. If you want to set up something in Clarissa’s room, go ahead, but I really need to go dive into my writing cave. Okay?”
She cocks her head and looks at me like she used to do when I was a kid. “I didn’t come to bother you. You go on and get done whatever you need to do. Don’t mind me at all. You won’t even know I’m here.”
I have my doubts about that, but I smile and sidestep her offer for a hug. “Okay. Sounds good.”
I return to my office.
Oh no.
No. No. No.
Chloe lounges on the laptop keyboard. She flips to her back when I rush to her, as though she expects a tummy scratch.
I wave my hands at her. “Shoo! Get off my computer, you crazy cat.”
She stretches out, kneading the air with her upside down paws, looking at me with her cocked head. She meows.
I pick her up, and she goes limp.
I clench my jaw as I let her slide to the floor. “Go. Get out of here, you terrorist.”