Can I be honest?
For the first time since I started publishing in 2017, I've been too stressed to write.
And for someone like me who has written nearly 40 books, that's saying something.
I've tried everything I could to find my writing mojo, but ultimately, when all is said and done, I can't force myself to write if the words won't come.
And after banging my head against a wall, and banning myself from reading the news, I've come to realize the words aren't coming not just because of what's going on around me, but also because I'm not supposed to be writing the book I've been trying to force myself to.
I don't know how you feel about things right now, maybe your life is going great, but for me, it seems like every day there is a new challenge to overcome or something else to deal with.
While I do my best to stay positive and to be thankful for all I have in my life, to laugh at myself, and to find reasons to laugh, I'm learning I also need to be aware of what I need to do to stay healthy emotionally, physically, and spiritually.
Since being diagnosed with MS five years ago, and through life's ups and downs writing has always had the ability to take me out of my head.
But it worked so well for me because I was writing what I loved and not what I thought would sell well.
I was happy doing my own thing, not chasing trends or trying to mimic what other authors do and I consider myself blessed to have found readers who enjoy my crazy, sexy books.
Having writers' block for nearly a month has been a stern lesson that now is not the right time to be adding more challenges to my life.
All of this is my lengthy explanation to tell you I've chosen to write another Wild Weekend book rather than start a new series.
In order to retain my pre-order abilities, I have switched out Austin, for One Wild Weekend with Miller and am putting plans to start the security series idea on hold.
In other words, if you pre-ordered Austin you'll receive Miller instead when it releases (God willing) early next year.)
***If you don't wish to receive Miller, please cancel your pre-order. ***
I am truly sorry, and I hope this isn't too confusing, but I hope you can understand why I can't force myself to write when the words just don't want to flow.
I'd gratefully appreciate your forgiveness and understanding right now as I continue to navigate the rest of what has been a difficult year.
It's early days, but I've managed to write nearly a chapter of One Wild Weekend With Miller which will be set in Arizona with a troubled Ranger on a futile mission and the headstrong mechanic who wins his battle-weary
After a super sexy weekend and a lot of hurdles to overcome of course. 😉
Much love from me to you.
And again, please forgive me for needing to reduce stress and just escape into familiar writing territory right now.
Snippet from One Wild Weekend With Ryker
I hover in the doorway, not sure if I should close the door. He could be a serial killer for all I know. A very, very, sexy one.
I clear my throat. “Are you on vacation?”
He shakes his head. “I needed a break from all the noise in DC, and this seemed like the perfect place,” he says.
I nod as though I understand, even though it’s so quiet here, I find it has the opposite effect on me.
“What about you. What brings you all the way out here?”
At the reminder of why I came, I grimace. “My grandma lives here. My dad canceled last minute, and I drew the short straw to spend Christmas with her.”
His eyebrow lifts as amusement flashes across his face. “You aren’t close?”
I stare at the phone on the wall and sigh heavily as I think about being cooped up in such a small space with her and not even my phone for comfort.
“We used to be. But it’s hard to stay close to someone so eccentric.”
It’s not exactly the truth, but it’s all I’m willing to share right now.
He chuckles. “Well, if you’re not in a hurry to get to her, I’m about to have some soup?”
I glance at the stove and find myself nodding. “You don’t have to do that,” I say.
He just smiles. “Yeah, I do.”
Since he doesn’t seem in a hurry to get rid of me, and I’m capable of taking care of myself, I close the door and take a seat. “So, what do you do in DC?”
He glances at me as he dishes up two bowls of soup. “I’m a fixer,” he says.
That makes me snort a laugh. “A what?”
He gives me a lazy smile as he sits opposite me. “I fix things for people.”
I eye him as he brings a mouthful of soup to his lips. “What kind of people?”
“All kinds of people,” he says.
“You’re working over Christmas then?”
“Yep. No rest for the wicked.”
I choke out a laugh. “You’re wicked, are you?”
Something in the way he looks at me sends a shiver running down my spine. “When the mood takes me,” he says.
I swallow, suddenly feeling incredibly warm as I consider his meaning. “Are you hitting on me?” I say.
His eyebrow hitches skyward. “If I was, could I keep the cabin?”
I slurp my soup, watching him carefully, trying to work him out. “Are you married? Is that why you come out here? To get away from your responsibilities?”
He chokes out a laugh. “Are you always so forthright?”
I nod. “Pretty much. But you didn’t answer the question,” I say.
He drains the rest of the bowl before answering. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“But you are married, aren’t you?”
When he doesn’t answer, I let the spoon drop to emphasize my disgust. “I’ll take your silence as an admission of guilt,” I say.
He frowns at me. “I’m not married. My job doesn’t lend itself to relationships.”
Well, now, that’s interesting. “So, you’re a no-strings kind of guy then?”
His lip curls before he laughs. “I’m a ‘take an opportunity when I see it’, kind of guy,” he says.
His eyes lock onto mine, and I’m a little ashamed to realize I’m the one who’s hitting on him.
At least I think I am. It’s been a while.
“Well, I should probably go, thanks for the—”
My polite exit is interrupted by an incredibly loud rumbling sound coming from outside.
As the sound grows louder, and the cabin starts to shake and shudder, I jump to my feet, ready to duck under the table or to run. “Is that an earthquake?” I ask
Ryker listens for a split second before he shakes his head. “It’s an avalanche,” he says.
Christmas comes early this year...but he won’t.
All naughty and a little bit nice. This spicy forced proximity romance is sure to get you in the Christmas spirit.
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When a burned-out PICU nurse wanders off a mountain trail, and onto private property, the charming owner who comes to her rescue, invites her to spend the weekend in his luxury cabin.
Can the mysterious Cooper be the man to heal Ellie's broken heart?
To celebrate I'm revealing the next Bad For Me Cover, which will be a steamy reverse age gap fake romance, and for the first time Bad Bodyguard is 0.99!
And as a special thank you, if you're subscribed to my newsletter you can pick up a BONUS epilogue to read more of Kinsey and Nikau's story!
Snippet from Bad Behavior
I never considered myself altruistic, and I’m not about to start kidding myself about that now.
And I’d be lying if I said it was because she’s sweet and smart, or that seeing her that upset over a f**kwit who didn’t appreciate her kicked off my protective instincts.
It’s not even that she’s pretty and curvy.
I look at my reflection and smirk at the guy looking back at me. Back home I was just the guy from a small town where rugby was part of your DNA.
Here, I can be anyone I want to be.
And right now, what I want to be is the guy who sweeps Kinsey off her feet and right into my bed.
With a smirk at my reflection, I wrap a towel around my waist and decide to swim off the rest of my hangover before I visit Kinsey.
I make it to the living area before a knock at door makes me curse. I don’t even bother trying to tidy up the mess, I open the door, and exhale when I see a woman standing there.
The sun is streaming in from the window, so it takes me a second to recognise it’s Kinsey.
My mouth curves into a grin as she looks me over and blushes intensely. “Oh, um, sorry, did I catch you at a bad time?”
I shake my head and lean my arm on the door. “Nope. Just got out of the shower. You took off pretty quick last night?”
She doesn’t seem to know where to look, and I’m enjoying her embarrassment a little too much. “I’m sorry, I’m not great with meeting a lot of new people,” she says.
I nod and wish I had something to offer her. “I’d ask you to come inside, but I’m out of coffee,” I say.
She smiles so prettily my chest aches. “Well, if you want to, we could go out for coffee?” she says.
I smile even wider and lean closer to her. “Or I could come downstairs,” I say.
At the unintended double meaning she blushes even more, and I have to stop myself from laughing.
I doubt any of the girls would have thought that was even mildly funny but rather than laughing she seems pissed off with me. “You can’t help yourself, can you? It just oozes out of your pores,” she says.
I shrug. “Why waste a gift?”
Her brow crinkles together. “I was going to offer to buy you breakfast to discuss your offer, but I’m not—”
I hold up my hand as I finally twig to why she’s here so early. “You want me to be your boyfriend,” I say.
Her frown deepens. “Fake boyfriend. Just for the weekend and only if you promise not to tell anyone,” she says.
I nod as seriously as I can as I do a swooping motion across my bare chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye,” I recite.
Her lips press together then she blows out a sigh. “This is a bad idea. I can’t believe I considered it. If you blow this after what I told Brody last night—"
She doesn’t even need to finish the sentence, I know what this means to her. “How about this? If I mess this up you can dob me into the landlord about illegal barbeques,” I say.
That seems to do the trick. She juts out her hand and I slide hers into mine as she gives me a shy smile. “So, where would you like to go for breakfast?” she says.
We're at T-Minus 2 weeks from my latest Fake Romance releasing! Woot Woot!
I love these characters and can't wait for you to meet Nikau, my rugby playing, risk taking, wickedly naughty Kiwi.
He's bad, he's sexy, and he'll do whatever it takes to make Kinsey his...
I can’t say I’ve ever enjoyed football, but this is something entirely different, and I’m suddenly beginning to understand why it’s so popular.
While it’s brutal, and I have no idea what’s going on, and I can’t understand how the players aren’t sustaining injuries with no padding, there is no denying I’m getting a little hot and bothered watching Nikau play.
It soon becomes apparent that he and Malachi are in a league of their own.
Either it’s instinct or experience, but they seem to hold the ball and score more than anyone else put together.
As I watch, and the scoreboard changes, I realize I know next to nothing about how it’s played.
I do learn it’s called a ‘try’ and not a touchdown. And other than the lack of protective gear, there are significant differences regarding throwing the ball, and tackling.
Reese echoes my sentiments when another try is scored, and the crowd simultaneously leap to their feet and we feel compelled to as well. “I have no idea what’s going on, but this is fucking amazing!” she shouts.
I laugh and have to agree as the players congratulate the player who scored. But it’s obvious Nikau is carrying the team.
He barely stops moving in the entire first forty minutes, and when he’s not playing, he’s talking to the other players, obviously coaching them too.
“You should take a picture, put it up on social, show The Bastard you’ve upgraded,” Reese says.
I glance at her, then at Nikau, and pull a face. “I don’t know,” I say.
Reese glares at me, and before I can stop her, she pulls out her own phone, and snaps a lot of photos. “I’ll do it for you, and after the game, I’ll take one of you two, and put it up too,” she says.
I open my mouth to protest, but she’s tapping away furiously on her phone and I know she’s probably right. No one will believe Nikau’s my boyfriend if I don’t start acting like he is.
“There, it’s all on your account,” she says as she shows me the post she just made.
I gape at her as I stare at the images on screen and the text underneath announcing I’m watching my new boyfriend kick everyone’s ass.
Worse than that, she’s changed my status to ‘in a relationship’. “What the hell, Reese! How did you get access to my Facebook account?”
She just shrugs. “You really need to change your passwords. You’re so predictable,” she says.
I’m not sure whether to be alarmed or insulted, but I’m more concerned by the text and that she’s tagged Nikau and sent him a friend request.
Any chance to discuss her invading my privacy disappears when another whistle blows and after a lot of back-slapping happening, the game appears to be over.
Rather than go in the direction of the rest of the team, Nikau is standing talking to the owner of the team, water bottle in one hand, mouth guard in the other.
“Don’t be mad. I did it for your own good. It would look weird if you weren’t friends with him, and you people will want to tag you both at the reunion,” Reese says.
She has a point, if I’m going to do this, I need to start laying the groundwork first.
As Nikau walks off the field, my phone starts to blow up with likes and comments.
Worse, when I look at Nikau, he has his phone out and is wearing a crooked smile.
His eyes find mine, and he smiles even wider before a text arrives from an unknown number.
Since it’s official, come have a drink with us in the clubroom.
I swallow hard as my entire body blazes with embarrassment.
Thanks to Reese everyone I’m friends with will have seen my announcement.
Since we share a lot of friends, there’s no way Brody hasn’t seen this.
Even if I hadn’t told him I was seeing Nikau, it’s too late to back out now. I’m committed to this crazy idea of fake dating a total stranger.
For all intents and purposes, the sexiest man I’ve ever met is now my boyfriend.
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