Thoughts from the Treadmill I’m looking around at all the potential clean up projects in the garage where my treadmill is located—anything to keep my mind occupied. I haven’t exactly figured out how to multitask while I’m walking. You’d think it would be easy enough...
Where Mary almost gets away…
Marshall watched in disbelief…
as the rope slithered around the tree branch before slipping away.
The kid fumbled over and over and for all appearances, had no idea how to use his hands.
Captain Forsyth proved yet again to have achieved his status through connections and finances rather than via competency. The man displayed precisely none.
“Stop that!” he yelled. As if his air ship would listen and follow voice commands like a trained dog.
Mary’s pale face appeared, a mask of terror, over the edge of the gondola.
Someone wrote a bad review about one of my stories.
It happens. As an author I know how important it is to not respond to the review directly. I still pouted about it. Everyone is allowed their opinion. And I know what I write isn’t for everyone.
But sometimes a review is just wrong. And this one made me angry.
So I’ve turned it into content.
I’m wrapping up the Second Endings series with the last book Hidden Gods.
I don’t have a publication date yet, but its in the writing phase, and I know exactly where this story is headed.
There’s dancing, a little danger, and sun screen. IYKYK
Here’s a little hint at what’s happening:
I frenetically sketched in my notebook. I had a stacks of them. One waiting to be used, and a second one full of calculations and number crunching.
As romance readers we are always in search of the next book boyfriend.
This month I present for your consideration: Scottie.
The himbo, ADHD, gamer, OG pig himself: Scottie. Scottie loves a good running joke, he can’t seem to help it, he’s a pig.
He’s made a name for him self as a content creator, and has a bit of a glow-up through out the trilogy.
Thoughts from the Treadmill There is a perfect space for me to put the phone camera and I can start filming those weekly little author talk videos I want to do. Its about two feet in front of the treadmill and slightly up, so it would have that good down tilting...
Where stuff happens…
Marshall managed to wrangle up a log, with the reluctant help of the kid that stuck around. The kid was so enthralled with the airship he wasn’t even interested in helping either friend get to the doctor about his ankle, or the preacher’s son to find a replacement meal for Mary.
Dropping the log, Marshal dusted his hands together. “It’s not nearly as fine as the furnishing in your home Mrs. Kessler, but it’s the best I can do at the moment.”
“It’s a far sight better than sitting on the ground, I dare say,” Mary commented.
Where Mary gets dressed…
Hand over hand, Mary hauled up the ladder. Wrapped around a few rungs was a mass of fabric.
“Ooh,” Mary breathed out appreciatively as she shook out the wadded up skit.
It was heavy, and patch-worked. As if it had been made converted from a quilt instead of made from scraps and patched together. She ran her fingers over the fine stitching of the quilting. This had to have come from the woman’s trousseau and been made into a heavy winter skirt out of necessity. Why else would someone cut up such fine workmanship?
Where Mary gets accosted…
“What the deuce is going on here?” Marshall yelled as he stumbled upon the scene.
Three men were struggling to haul down The Profound Name by its mooring ropes, while a fourth man rolled in the dirt clutching his ankle and groaning pitifully. Above them, in the gondola of the airship, Mary was hurling both insults and whatever small objects she could find.
Where Marshall goes shopping…
Mary crossed her arms and twisted in the dirt giving Marshall her back with one more loud, “Fine to I can handle this on my own.”
Marshall and the captain entered the very small main street where there was a tavern, what appeared to be a dry goods store.
He cast his gaze up and down the street, looking up and saw a small church at the end of the street.
He ran his hand through his hair. “Well, I dare say Mary is correct. I don’t know how to go about buying women’s clothing.”
What do you do when your imaginary friends start pestering you with images of sexy male strippers and hot were-shifters? You write stories about them. Well, that's what I did! Oh, and then I combine them and toss them in a kilt for good measure!
Hi, my name is Lulu and I write sexy hot contemporary and paranormal romance. Welcome to my website.
Making the Para "Normal" and the Supernatural Extraordinary.