Strong Hearts Available NOW!
Yep, Brutus and Denise are ready for you to fall in love with them. Brutus, so big and strong. Denise, so steady and stubborn. They are perfect for each other. They have a little trouble finding their happily ever after, but they eventually do. I hope you’ll find their journey satisfying!
From the minute big, bad Brutus Gunnison of Dallas Fire & Rescue sees Denise, he falls like a ton of bricks. She is everything the Iraq War vet has ever wanted in a woman: pretty without being frilly, with a great sense of humor and a love of dogs and baseball. Most amazing of all, she’s not afraid of him.
Denise Friedlander is busy. Between working thirty hours a week, going to school, and serving in the Texas National Guard, she doesn’t have time for a man. And after the way her father ran out on her mom the minute she got pregnant, she is careful with men. But she can’t resist Brutus. He’s not the handsomest man in Dallas, but with those muscles and tattoos, he’s the hottest. Besides, he shows the tenderness hidden under his rough exterior only to her.
But old wounds run deep and when Brutus betrays her trust, Denise walks away. Can they learn to trust again to find their happily ever after?
BUY IT HERE:
Tuesday Teaser 1/16/18
Tomorrow Strong Hearts comes out!!! I am going to post one last teaser from Brutus and Denise’s story.
Then next week I’ll begin giving you little tidbits from Gina and Colby’s story.
Young woman embracing man with naked muscular torso
Although I don’t think contemporary romance will ever be my favorite to write, I have to say I loved Brutus. He’s so big and mean looking, but he really does have a tender heart. At least for Denise, the heroine. I had a hard time deciding which pic to choose for the cover. I finally picked the one where they are embracing front to front. But I’m including the other one so you can see how gorgeous Brutus’s chest is 🙂
These two are like real people. That is, they are good people, but they are human, and they have flaws. I hope you’ll give them a try. 🙂
Chapter Three
“Hey, Wolfe, it’s me.” Brutus squeezed the phone between his ear and shoulder while he dumped a scoop of dry food in Rowdy’s bowl. The dog looked at him like he was only minutes away from starvation. “There ya go. Good boy.”
“What?” said Wolfe.
“Not you. I was talking to the dog.” He dropped the plastic scoop into the trashcan he used to store Rowdy’s food and flipped the lid shut. “Hey, look, I was in Billie’s tonight and—”
Wolfe cut him off with a groan. “You got drunk and had another fight?”
“Oh, for … No! All I had was a cup of coffee, and I was there for only thirty minutes.”
He should have stayed longer, taken the opportunity to talk some more with Denise, but he had been so elated when she agreed to meet him at the game he hadn’t trusted himself to make sense during a conversation. Which reminded him of why he’d called his buddy.
“Look, I ran into that girl. Her name is Denise. The game was on at Billie’s, and it turns out she’s a big Rangers fan. So I asked her out to the game on Saturday.”
There was a moment of silence on the phone. “The game we’re going to on Saturday?”
“Uh, yeah. Could I buy your ticket from you?”
“I don’t know. I was looking forward to seeing the game.”
Brutus’s heart fell. “Aw, c’mon, Wolfe. The season is almost over, and there’s no way the Rangers can pull up enough to make the playoffs. Culver is pitching. It’s not like you’d be missing anything.”
A sigh came over the phone and Wolfe’s voice turned dreamy. “Except some quality time with my best bud.”
Brutus took the phone from his ear and stared at it. “The fuck?”
Wolfe’s snicker grew to a howl. “Gotcha.”
Brutus huffed a weak chuckle. “You suck.”
“Yeah, but you can have my ticket anyway. Hope you and Denise have a good time at the game.”
Denise left the National Guard Armory at half past four on Saturday. She had only two hours to get home, bolt down supper, change out of her uniform, shower, dress, and drive to Arlington to meet Brutus at the ballpark. She was met at the door by an eager Stella.
“I’ve got an interview right away Monday morning,” she reported.
“That’s great.” Denise tossed the words over her shoulder as she headed to her bedroom. Her uniform came off quickly, but she took the time to neatly hang it to wear again tomorrow.
Stella leaned on the doorjamb. “Would you like me to make you a sandwich?”
“I would love that. Thank you.”
She took the quickest shower of her life, blasted her hair with the blow dryer for two minutes, and put it up in its usual ponytail. She grabbed clean jeans and her Texas Rangers jersey and pulled them on. She snagged her Rangers ballcap, threading her ponytail through the gap in the back. When she went out to the kitchen, Stella stared at her.
“Is that what you’re wearing on your date?”
Her sister sounded horrified. Denise looked down at herself to be sure the jersey didn’t have a stain. “Yeah. Why?”
“No makeup?”
“I hardly ever wear makeup. Thanks for the sandwich.”
Stella poured some chips on the side on the paper plate. “You’re welcome. Are you sure about the makeup? I could do your eyes for you. Your eyes are real pretty. All you need is a bit of liner and mascara to bring them out.”
Oddly touched, Denise smiled. “Thanks, Stella. Maybe next time. We’re just going to the ballgame, and I’m running a little late.” She bit into her sandwich, surprised and pleased that the amount of mustard was just right. “Good sandwich.”
Denise’s phone rang. She looked at the screen before answering. “Hi, mom, what’s up?”
“Denise, I haven’t talked to you in an age.”
“It’s a been a while.” Denise agreed. “I’m sort of busy right now.”
Stella opened the fridge. “Did you want a pickle?”
Her mom said, “Who was that?”
Denise jumped up. “No one.” She shook her head at Stella and edged out of the kitchen, pausing in the short hall.
“I heard a voice,” her mom said.
“It was the TV. Hey, I’m heading out to the Ranger’s game in a few minutes. Can’t talk now.”
“Well, alright. You give me a call sometime this week. We haven’t talked in too long.”
Denise agreed and hung up. Thank God she dodged that bullet. What her mom would say about Stella staying with her made Denise shudder. She went back to her sandwich and her sister.
There was a wrinkle between Stella’s pale brows. “Was that your mom? I heard her ask about me. Why did you call me no one?”
Darn it, she needed to turn down the volume on her phone. “I didn’t. I mean, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You oughtn’t lie to your mama.”
Denise took a large bite of sandwich and attempted diplomacy. “Well, the thing is, mom would be unhappy if she knew you were here, and there’s no reason to cause her grief. She’s sort of crazy when it comes to the assh… er, your dad.”
Stella tilted her head to the side. “Daddy said she wouldn’t like it at all.”
Denise shoved a handful of chips into her mouth to prevent a sarcastic comment about her sperm donor. “Tell me about your job interview.”
Stella brightened. “Oh, I think it’s the perfect place for me. The hours are good, and the pay is reasonable. Not great, you know? But the tips ought to be real good. It’s at The Pink Pussycat Lounge.”
Denise swallowed with effort. “That’s a, uh …” She stalled, not sure what to say.
“It’s a gentlemen’s club. From what I’ve read, it’s a nice place. It’s in an old, historic part of town. Lots of rich tourists.” She must have seen the horror Denise tried to hide, because she giggled. “The position is for a waitress, not a topless dancer. It’s work I’ve done before. I’m good at it, too.”
That was work that Denise wouldn’t do in a million years. But Stella would never want to clean the kennels at the dog shelter. “Well, that’s great. I hope you get it.” Denise stood up and grabbed her keys. “Gotta go. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Have fun.”
The drive to Arlington took way too long. When she finally got to the stadium, the parking lot was filling up fast. She glanced at the clock on the dash. Twenty-five after six. She beat a pickup truck to a sliver of a spot. The truck never would have fit. Then she locked her car and bolted to the area Brutus said he would meet her.
The crowd was thick. At five-six, she wasn’t tiny, but she couldn’t see much but backs, shoulders and heads.
There he was.
His short brown hair was hidden under a Texas Rangers ballcap, but he was a head taller than most of the other people here. He stood against a wall, arms folded over his massive chest, like a colossus standing guard. She stood on tiptoe and waved to get his attention. She knew the exact moment he saw her. His face relaxed from a cold, granite mask to a warm smile. In that moment, even with his blunt, heavy features, he was almost unbearably handsome. In only a moment he’d plowed through the people jammed between them and came to her side.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said breathlessly.
He glanced at his wrist. “Only by two minutes.”
“Oh, good. Traffic was murder. I’m glad you’re so tall. I don’t know how I would have found you otherwise.”
His cheeks flared with color. “I’m a pretty big guy,” he said, looking away.
“Good thing, too,” she said brightly. “In a crowd like this I tend to get lost, so I’ll just stick to you like a leech, and you can get us where we need to go.”
His gaze flashed back to her face and a slow smile curved his lips. “Sounds good to me. Hang on.”
He grabbed her hand and towed her through the crowd. Most people got out of his way before he got to them. Denise laughed with delight as she watched people melt away from their path. People never did that for her, she always had to squirm and nudge people to get through a crowd. They got to the turnstiles and Brutus handed over their tickets, then led the way up the stairs to their section. His long legs made climbing the extra wide, extra tall steps look easy. Denise had to stretch her legs to make the climb. She was panting a little when they got to their row.
They settled into their seats and then neither of them seemed to know what to do or say next. They spent several minutes looking at the people marching up and down the steps like armies of ants, and down at the field where some of the players were warming up. Finally, he cleared his throat.
“Are you from Dallas?” he asked.
Relief that he had spoken first eased the strain. “No, I grew up near Fredericksburg. My family ranches about three miles northwest of it.”
His head jerked around. “Fredericksburg? I’m from Kerrville.”
Denise stared. Kerrville was only a thirty-minute drive from Fredericksburg. “Small world,” she commented. “You must have gone to Tivy High?”
“Yeah, my mom taught English there.”
They exchanged stories of their high school years. He graduated two years before she had and joined the Navy immediately afterward. After her graduation, she had tried tech school for a year.
“But I didn’t do very well,” she confessed, “so I joined the Army. I did one tour in Iraq, and when my ETS came up, I decided to go into the Guard and go back to school.”
She glanced up and caught his gaze. He had the most beautiful eyes, especially when he smiled at her. “What’s your MOS?”
When she told him, he thought a minute. “They keep changing the designations. Motor pool?”
She nodded. “Mechanic. Wheeled vehicles. Although in Iraq, I did plenty of work on track vehicles too. Nothing like sand to gunk equipment up.”
He laughed shortly. “Tell me about it. A mechanic, huh? Have you always been into that?”
She shrugged. “I guess. Growing up on the ranch, I learned a lot about all kinds of stuff, from fixing equipment to grinding feed to herding cows. I was the only girl, so my uncles and cousins treated me just like a boy.”
“What about your sister?”
Denise stilled. “She grew up in Mississippi.”
“Oh, your parents divorced? That’s tough. You must have been pretty young.”
May as well get it out and over with. “They were never married. My mom thought they would be. When she found out she was pregnant with me, she told him. She thought they’d get married then. But it turns out he was already married, and his wife was expecting, too. Stella is five months older than me. I never even met her until two weeks ago.”
His mouth hung open for a split second. His voice went flat. “Your father is an ass. People don’t sleep around when they’re married. Period.”
Now her mouth hung open. He might have misunderstood her reaction, because he hurried to apologize.
“Sorry,” he said. “He’s your dad. I shouldn’t put him down.”
“Oh, no, please do.” Her chuckle was brittle. “I’ve never met him, and I have no plans to. I don’t call him dad, because he’s not. I suppose he’s my father, but only in the biological sense of the word. I have my uncle Rob and my uncle Steve, and that’s good enough for me.” She swallowed, anxious to turn the conversation. “How about you? Sisters? Brothers?”
“Two brothers, one older and one younger. Cash helps manage the ranch and vineyards. Gus bums around. He works the rodeo circuit, mostly bull riding, and works on the ranch in the offseason.”
The game started. The Rangers’ pitcher, Culver, retired the first three batters, all on strikeouts.
“Good start,” Brutus said. “Culver’s earned run average isn’t that great this season, but he’s looking good today.”
Denise agreed. She accepted the hotdog and beer Brutus ordered, and settled in the enjoy the game. He wasn’t the fidgety sort. He followed the game with keen interest, but he didn’t scream or shout when the Rangers got a hit. When the Rangers scored a run in the second inning, he only smiled and sucked down more beer. He did lean forward to watch Culver face his twelfth batter and retire him.
“It’s the bottom of the fourth,” he murmured, “and so far, Culver hasn’t given up a hit or a walk.”
He didn’t need to tell her that as of now, Culver was pitching a perfect game. “It’s only the fourth inning,” she cautioned. “Too early to get too excited.”
He nodded. “True. Plenty of games start out good but …” He trailed off, apparently unwilling to jinx it.
The fifth inning came to a close without a hit or a walk. During the sixth inning, everyone in the ballpark seemed to be aware that they could be seeing history. A perfect game came around only once in a blue moon. In the entire history of baseball, a period of nearly one hundred and fifty years, less than two dozen perfect games had ever been pitched. Most pitchers never pitched a game where they didn’t give up a hit or a walk. No one had ever done it twice. Denise reached up to tighten her ponytail even though it didn’t need it.
The air during the seventh inning stretch seemed electrified. Half the stadium sang Take Me Out To the Ball Game with manic energy, and the other half just stood silently. She was on the manic side. Brutus stood quietly beside her.
Culver started the eighth inning with his eleventh strikeout. Not a single person in the stands cheered. No one wanted to breathe any harder than they had to for fear of distracting Culver.
“How many pitches has he thrown?” Denise muttered. “If they take him out—”
“They won’t take him out. He has a solid shot at a perf …” Brutus swallowed. “You know.”
The next batter sent an easy pop fly to right field. The third batter of the inning went down swinging. Denise looked up at Brutus and saw the same wonder and anticipation there that she felt herself. One more inning. Could Culver keep this up for three more batters?
At the top of the ninth Denise sat on her hands to keep them from trembling. The first batter struck out. The stadium was dead silent. Even the announcer said nothing. The players in the dugout lined the fence, faces intent. The second batter swung at the first pitch and missed. A sigh went around the stadium. People rose to their feet, still silent, straining to see everything. Denise and Brutus stood too. The second pitch was a ball. The third pitch was a ball. Denise wished she had more beer to wet her dry throat. The fourth pitch was a strike. The fifth was a ball. It was a full count. The next pitch could be the one that ended Culver’s perfect game. Brutus took her hand. She clenched his fingers in an agony of nerves. Together they watched the next pitch. Foul ball.
Brutus lifted his cap enough to swipe the back of his hand over the sweat on his forehead. Denise watched Culver wind up and closed her eyes. She opened them in time to see the batter swing and miss.
Strike three. Her knees threatened to collapse. She gripped Brutus’s big hand harder. He looked down at her and smiled. It was a tight smile, probably intended to be reassuring, but he looked as tense as she felt. Only one more batter. If Culver got this guy out, he would make baseball history.
The third and last batter of the ninth inning stepped into the batter’s box. The glare on his face said he intended to put an end to this perfect game.
Denise’s heart stopped at the crack of the bat hitting the ball. The ball soared three hundred and seventy feet to center right. Denise quit breathing while she watched the outfielder sprint desperately to catch the ball. When he did, the smack of the ball in the mitt could be heard clear to Dallas. Utter silence reigned for five more seconds. Then the stadium broke out in hysteria. The announcer shouted that they had just witnessed the twenty-fourth perfect game in major league baseball history. The wave of cheering was like a wall of sound crashing into her. Denise’s legs turned into cotton candy, and the only reason she didn’t fall down was Brutus’s big hands on her waist. He had a curiously blank look on his face.
“Wolfe is going to kill me,” he said.
“Oh, my God,” she screamed up at him. “He did it! Culver pitched a perfect game! And we got to see it!”
“I know,” he said, quite calmly, picked her up, and kissed her.
Surprise held Denise still for a split second. She decided it must be one of those quick, carried-away-by-the-moment kisses, fast, hard, and full of jubilation. But it wasn’t. His face was hard and blunt, but his lips were indescribably soft. His kiss was gentle. Exploratory. Hot. She forgot her feet were inches off the concrete. She forgot she’d just witnessed baseball history. The people jumping up and down and screaming madly only inches from her ceased to exist when his tongue brushed over her lips, asking to come in. Her arms reached up and around his neck and she kissed him back with everything in her.
It was a long moment before she came up for breath. She blinked at the hot way he looked at her. “Come home with me,” he growled.
Her girl parts screamed yes. The rest of her said no. She braced her hands against his chest. His pectorals were bunched and hard from holding her one hundred and thirty pounds up. It was hard, but she shook her head. “Too soon.” Those two were the only words she could find for a minute. “But this deserves a celebration. How about a beer and some dancing at Billie’s?”
He didn’t answer for a long minute. “Good enough,” he finally agreed.
But he didn’t release her. “Hey? Could you put me down?”
“Do I have to?”
“Well, it will be hard for me to drive to Billie’s this way.”
He roared a laugh. Such a happy, joyous sound made her giggle too. “Okay, okay.” He settled her gently on her feet. “Let’s get out of here, but hang on to me. This crowd will trample both of us if we’re not careful.”
She’d like to see anyone try to trample him. “I’ll stick to you like glue,” she promised. “Lead the way, big guy.”
Strong Hearts Coming Soon!
It’s been a much colder winter this year than it has been for the past several years. Tomorrow the high is expected to be -10 F, and Tuesday it will be 1 (above zero!) and then the rest of the week we’ll be enjoying the balmy temps of our January thaw. That is to say, we might get above freezing.
The weather is cold, but Strong Hearts, my second story in Paige Tyler’s Dallas Fire & Rescue Kindle World, is hot, and it comes out on Wednesday January 17.
I had actually not planned to write this story. I wrote Brave Hearts, intending it to be a one time thing. Brutus Gunnison was the hero’s best friend, and he was supposed to have a very small role in the story. But Brutus is bigger than life. He took over and kept hogging the scenes. I had several readers ask me where they could find his story. WEll, here it is. I wrote these two out of order, since Strong Hearts takes place about seven months before Brave Hearts. Here is a little sneak peek for you:
Strong Hearts
Coming January 17, 2018
From the minute big, bad Brutus Gunnison of Dallas Fire & Rescue sees Denise, he falls like a ton of bricks. She is everything the Iraq War vet has ever wanted in a woman: pretty without being frilly, with a great sense of humor and a love of dogs and baseball. Most amazing of all, she likes him.
Denise Friedlander is busy. Between working thirty hours a week, going to school, and serving in the Texas National Guard, she doesn’t have time for a man. And after the way her father ran out on her mom the minute she got pregnant, she is careful with men. But she can’t resist Brutus. He’s not the handsomest man in Dallas, but with those muscles and tattoos, he’s the hottest. Besides, he shows the tenderness hidden under his rough exterior only to her.
But old wounds run deep and when Brutus betrays her trust, Denise walks away. Can they learn to trust again to find their happily ever after?
Read an Excerpt Here
Tuesday Teaser 12/12/17 Strong Hearts Chapter 1b
Happy Tuesday! I’m under the weather, so I’m home from work today. I’ve been doing a lot of sleeping, but I’m awake right now and decided that I should take advantage of my alertness to make a post. I plan to do my annual Stuffed Christmas Stocking giveaway soon. If you’d like to enter to win a stocking stuffed with books and swag, the entry form will arrive in my newsletter this weekend. If you don’t get my newsletter, you can sign up by filling out this form. This picture doesn’t include everything I’m giving away. There will be more books, a calendar with each month featuring one of book covers, another mug, more candy… We’ll see how much I can stuff into that stocking! This is just a quick pic I took this morning of some of the items. 😉
Here is the Tuesday Teaser. Enjoy!
Denise watched the two men walk away and shook her head. Two men who were so hot in such different ways didn’t cross her path often, and she wanted to watch them for as long as possible.
“That right there,” drawled her sister beside her, “is one fine Mr. Hottie McHotPants.”
Denise turned to Stella with an arched brow. “Which one?”
“Which one?” Stella’s blue eyes opened wide. “The handsome one, of course. Not the oaf who fell on top of me.”
“The one who fell on you wasn’t as handsome as the other man,” Denise conceded, “but he had a great physique.”
Her sister shuddered delicately. “Oh, sure, if you like men who look like wrestling stars.”
“I do.” She remembered the way the big man’s arms stretched the sleeves of his t-shirt. The shirt was the kind that had been washed so much the blue had faded to gray, and the thin fabric clung to every taut curve and valley of his sculpted torso. “I really, really do.”
“Oh, Sissie, you’re simply hopeless.”
Maybe I am, she thought. Twenty-nine and not a single serious relationship to show for it. Denise tipped her longneck to her lips for the last swallow. “Ready to go?”
“It’s only ten!”
“I work at six,” she reminded Stella.
Stella looked around, maybe hoping for someone else to trip. After a minute, she sighed. “Alright. Let’s go back to that dump you call home.”
Denise set the bottle on the bar very carefully. “Since I’m letting you stay there rent free until you find a job, you shouldn’t complain.”
“Oh.” Stella covered her painted mouth with delicate fingers. “I know. I shouldn’t have said that. You’ve been better to me than I deserve. I’m sorry.”
Denise nodded. Her sister always apologized when she said something mean. It was as if Stella was simply unaware of how her comments sounded, but Denise didn’t buy it. Stella was twenty-nine, a little old for the innocent act. In Denise’s opinion, Stella had plenty of smarts, but she was stupid when it came to men. Stella probably thought the opposite. Denise shook her head. Her sister had left Mississippi dead broke and desperate after her boyfriend kicked her out of their apartment. Denise would never, ever put herself in a position where she depended on a man for everything. Nope, as sure as God made Texas, she would never be under a man’s control.
But it didn’t do any good to try to convince Stella that she could be self-sufficient. The main reason Stella had wanted to go out tonight was to meet some men. Billie’s Bar & Grill was a place where Denise and her last boyfriend had gone to unwind. She should have known it wasn’t Stella’s kind of place as soon as she came out of her room in that tiny silver dress.
With a sigh, Denise pushed off the bar stool. “Let’s go.”
In the car, Stella twisted a lock of hair around her finger. “Did you truly like that big guy?”
“Yeah.” He hadn’t been handsome. His face was too hard and blunt for that, but every muscle defined by his tight T-shirt oozed masculinity. Just remembering the ridges and valleys of his torso made her girl parts remember what they were for. Denise cleared her throat. “Yeah, I did.”
“Well … The bouncer called him Doc. Do you think he’s a doctor? A doctor would make a great boyfriend.”
Denise recalled the tattoo on the guy’s arm. It was a military unit’s emblem. He might have been a medic, but a doctor? “I doubt it.”
“I suppose not. He didn’t look like a doctor,” her sister agreed regretfully. “If you had a rich boyfriend you wouldn’t have to live in such a dump. I mean,” she quickly corrected herself, “such a small place.”
It’s not that small, Denise wanted to say, but she kept her mouth shut. She parked her car on the street and led the way up the steps to her admittedly crappy, but fairly roomy, two-bedroom apartment. Stella was almost right when she called the place a dump. She tried to see her place through the eyes of a stranger. The entryway was tiny, so she moved into the kitchen to allow Stella to come in. Yeah, maybe it was a dump. The couch in the living room was upholstered in gold and green plaid that matched the carpet. The shag carpet was avocado green and may have been new in the 1970s. The stains and worn out spots testified to its age. The jumbo-sized recliner, bought at a secondhand store for next to nothing, was neon pink. It might have been an eyesore, but it was comfortable.
Denise hung her keys up with a shrug. It was home. The neighborhood was decent, and the rent was low enough that even someone who was a full-time student at UT Dallas, served in the Texas National Guard, and worked twenty hours a week at an animal shelter could afford it. The carpet was clean if stained, and it didn’t matter if the appliances gave out now and then, because she knew how to get them working without pestering the landlord.
In her glittery cocktail dress, Stella looked as out of place as a hot house flower in a tin can stuffed with daisies. She headed off to the second bedroom, which until a week ago had been Denise’s office. “Good night, Sissy. See you in the morning.” She paused to flash a cheeky grin. “Dream of your muscle man. Maybe that will put you in a better mood.”
Denise rolled her eyes and went to her room to get ready for bed. She did dream of the muscle man. She woke, sweaty and heart pounding a hundred miles an hour, shuddering with the strength of her orgasm. Wow, she thought, wiping the sweat from her upper lip, if that’s what a dream of him does to me, imagine what it would be like with the man himself!
But in her busy life, where would she find time for a boyfriend? Well, maybe for him she could make time. She kicked the tangled sheet off and stretched out on her back. Tomorrow was her busy day. Work at Dog Heaven for three hours, attended three classes, then another two hours at the shelter. Maybe she could swing by Billie’s for a beer tomorrow after work and ask around about her dream lover? She flung her pillow over her head and told herself to not be an idiot.
But after work the next evening, she swung into Billie’s. What could it hurt, right?
Tuesday Teaser 12/5/17 Strong Hearts Chapter 1a
Well, I’ve been giving little snips from here and there in the story. I’ve decided it’s time to start at the beginning. This is unedited, so it might change a bit here and there, but I like this. This story releases on January 17 2018.
WARNING: strong language.
STRONG HEARTS
copyright by Maddy Barone
Chapter One
Brutus would have pounded that asshole into a pancake if the bouncers hadn’t stopped him. It took both to drag him off. The blood dripping from the little shit’s nose made him smile. Smiling hurt his split lip, though, so he settled for a sneer.
“That’s what you get for disrespecting the United States Marine Corps,” he said, allowing the bouncer to pull him a little further away. He knew the bouncer, Matt Martinez, was a Marine himself. “Did you hear what that little rat said?”
“No, and it doesn’t matter.” Martinez sighed. “Come on, Doc, you know what Billie said last time you got into a fight here.”
“That was three months ago!”
Brutus shot the rat who didn’t give honor where honor was due one last dirty look and followed Martinez to a stool at the end of the bar. Along the way they passed several patrons at the bar who seemed to be pretending to be deaf and blind. One caught his eye, a platinum blonde who had to have had breast implants. The Dolly Parton wannabe didn’t impress him. He plopped himself down on the bar stool Martinez pointed him to and waved for Jerry, the bartender.
Before he could order a beer, Martinez spoke. “Coffee or a coke, Doc. When your buddy gets here, you let him take you home.”
A cold spot spread in Brutus’ throat. “You’re cutting me off? It’s only ten o’clock!”
Martinez thumped a fist on his shoulder. “That’s Billie’s rule. If you fight, you leave. And you’ve had too much to drink to drive home yourself, so you just sit here and wait for your ride.”
Brutus slumped on the bar. “Who’d’ja you call?”
“Wolfe. Who else? You gonna cause any more trouble?”
“No.”
He’d drink his coffee like a good boy and let his friend take him home. Brutus rested his forehead on a fist and stared morosely into the black coffee Jerry brought him. He heard the jukebox switch to a different song, something slow and melancholy. The clack of pool balls reminded him that he’d been having a good night, downing a few beers, shooting a few games, and relaxing after a long shift at the station house. Then that little ass wipe invited him to play. He was probably twenty-one, barely legal, and thought he was a hustler. Whatever. They were playing for almost nothing, so Brutus didn’t care if he lost. Everything was cool, until that guy started talking about how useless Marines were. Things went downhill fast after that.
He tried a sip of coffee. It hurt his split lip. With careful fingers, he gingerly explored the injury. Damn. The swelling had better go down before his next shift. Three days. It should be gone by then. If not … Hopefully, Captain Stewart wouldn’t be around to notice. Brutus didn’t need another lecture from his boss. He reached for the bowl of pretzels on the bar and had to hide a wince. His ribs were sore from a right hook. That kid had some good moves, at the pool table and away from it. Brutus was going to feel this tomorrow. It was a lot like that fight he’d had back in Camp Fallujah. Or was he thinking about that fight in Camp Dreamland? Or Camp Dakota? His service days in Iraq were more than ten years ago, so it hard to keep that straight.
“Gunnison.”
Brutus jerked his head up. His partner stood there, looking down at him with a small frown. “Hey, Wolfe. You got here fast.”
“I was already out.”
That’s right, Wolfe was taking his latest piece of arm candy to a movie or something. “Damn, did this mess up your date?”
“No, Cherilyn wanted an early night. I just dropped her off.”
“Aw, too bad. So, you havta sleep alone tonight?” Brutus looked his partner up and down. Wolfe was everything Brutus was not: handsome, light on his feet, tall and muscular without being a hulk, and charming. A real chick magnet. Women went crazy for Wolfe’s pretty boy face. “Well, it has to happen to everyone sometimes, right?”
Wolfe blew out a breath and shook his head with a half-disgusted, half-affectionate smile. “Shut up. Ready to go?”
“Yeah, sure,” Brutus pushed the still full coffee cup away and lurched to his feet. He had to catch himself on the bar. Maybe he’d had more than he’d realized. He straightened and testing his walking ability. Wolfe watched him without offering to help. Yeah, his buddy understood a man’s pride. “Lead the way.”
He did okay until he tripped over the pointy toe of a sparkly high-heeled shoe and landed nose first in a bountiful cleavage. Brutus might not have the polished manners of some men, but his mama had whupped common decency into him. He jerked upright and staggered a step back.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he blurted. “Are you hurt?”
The platinum blonde gave a throaty laugh and made minute adjustments to neckline of her low-cut dress. “Why, I just don’t believe I know.”
Her accept was deep south, not Texas, and her sex kitten purr was directed at Wolfe, not him. Brutus took one long look at her and decided his buddy was welcome to her. She was beautiful but fake. Too much makeup, and too much of her body on display. Billie’s Bar & Grill was one step above a dive, and that short, sequined dress should be worn in a place where fancy cocktails were served.
He glanced at his friend to see his reaction. Wolfe, as usual, showed little. He liked living up to his Native American ancestors’ reputation for stoicism, but Brutus had known him since the old days in Iraq. Behind that coolly polite façade, his buddy was laughing his ass off.
The blonde flicked her foot. The sparkly shoe landed at Wolfe’s feet. “Why, look at that,” she cooed. “My shoe just plumb fell off.”
There was a pause in the noise as the jukebox switched songs. From the other side of the blonde came a sigh. Brutus stepped a little to the right to see who was sitting next to the blonde. For a full five seconds, his lungs forgot how to work.
This was how a woman ought to look. Brown hair pulled up in a bouncy ponytail. Blue jeans neither too baggy nor too tight, and a plaid shirt worn open over a white T-shirt. Her cleavage probably wasn’t as impressive as the blonde’s, but it had a perfect curve. He followed the long line of her leg and saw she was wearing cowboy boots. Worn out cowboy boots, not the pretty, shiny kind city cowgirls wore for show. If she was wearing makeup, Brutus couldn’t tell. Her face was pretty. Not Miss America beautiful, but pretty. Damn. She was Brutus’ prefect woman. Right now, she looked annoyed. Even that looked good on her.
“Stella, for crying out loud.” She turned on the barstool to Wolfe. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
Brutus sighed. Now that she’d gotten a look at his buddy, she wouldn’t have the time of day for him.
But she remined slightly apologetic, not even blinking at Wolfe. No gasp. No staring worshipfully, no blush or smile. She took the shoe Wolfe held out to her. “Thanks,” she said briefly, and thrust it at the blonde. “Put your shoe on, Stella,” she said in a furious whisper.
“Relax, Sissie.” The blonde pouted and turned slipping her shoe on into a languorous tease. If she wasn’t careful, those tits were going to pop right out of her dress. The pouty smiles and bedroom eyes were directed at Wolfe. The ponytail girl sighed again. Wolfe didn’t respond except to punch a light fist into Brutus’ bicep. “Ready to go?” he asked.
Brutus couldn’t resist one last look at the pretty brown-haired girl. Her eyes, large and blue, looked at him with a hint of disapproval. His back went up.
“What are you looking at?” he demanded.
Her cool blue eyes ran up him, and then down him. “Nothing much,” she said, turning back to the bar.
“Ouch,” murmured Wolfe, hidden laughter in his voice. Probably no one else heard it, but Brutus did. “Come on, buddy.”
Outside, the air was hot and laden with humidity. Normal for Dallas on the first day of September even at ten at night. Brutus took a lungful of the thick air in before climbing in Wolfe’s pick up.
“Man, did you see her?” Brutus sighed happily. “If I dream about her tonight I’ll be a happy man.”
Wolfe drove out of the parking lot. He stopped at a red light and raised a dubious eyebrow. “I didn’t think she was your type.”
“What? You kidding?” Brutus closed his eyes and remembered the sweet curve of breasts against a white T-shirt half covered by a western style shirt. “She’s exactly my type. Such perfect tits.”
The light turned green and Wolfe stepped on the gas. “Yeah, I guess they were pretty spectacular. Big enough to fill even your hands.”
Brutus’ eyes popped open. “I’m not talking about the blonde!”
“Oh?”
“No. The little brunette gal sitting next to her. The cute one who looked like an actual person.”
“Oh,” Wolfe said with a note of comprehension. “Sure, she was pretty. Looked nice, too. Someone you could really talk to.”
The truth of that hit Brutus’ drunken mind like a sledgehammer. The blonde looked like a man hunter, the kind you took to bed and that was all. The brunette looked like the kind you took home to meet mom. A girl like that wouldn’t want anything to do with a big brute like him.
Wolfe must have misunderstood his silence, because he went hastily on. “I don’t know that blonde lady. For all I know, she’d be great to talk to. We shouldn’t judge someone by the way they dress.”
Brutus snorted. “Right. We should judge by the way they act. I’ll bet my next paycheck that blonde wished you’d have been the one to trip and land on her tits. Her shoe fell off right in front of you, and that didn’t happen on its own.”
“Thank God your little brunette saved me from having to put it back on the blonde’s foot.”
His little brunette. Brutus reveled in the sound of that. “Yeah. Lucky you.”
Wolfe pulled his pickup into the short driveway in front of Brutus’ house. “Look, give me a call in the morning and I’ll give you a ride back to your truck.” He turned to study him, eyebrows pulling low. “You’ve been partying a lot lately, even when we have back to back shifts. You okay?”
That Indian had always been a little too perceptive. “Geez, Wolfe, you want to talk about our feelings now?”
His buddy snorted a laugh. “Get out of here. See you tomorrow.”
Brutus unlocked the front door and tossed his keys on the table in the front hall in time to catch his dog, Rowdy. The brown mutt was big and mean looking, but loyal and even loving with the right person. Just like him.
“We’re a lot alike, boy,” he whispered, scratching behind the floppy ears. “One thing is different, though. You had your balls cut off, but the lady dogs still like you. I still have mine, but the ladies don’t like me.”
With that happy thought, he went to bed.
Tuesday Teaser 11/28/17 Strong Hearts
Here is another little snip from my current work in progress. I feel like I’m really making progress on this one. And I really, really love Brutus and Denise.
The great thing about Billie’s Bar and Grill was that no one ever dressed up. Denise, wearing jeans covered with dog hair stuck to the dog slobber embedded in the denim, pushed opened the door, and stepped to one side. She paused there for a moment to let her eyes adjust. After the bright sun, she was nearly blind in the lower light in the bar. The delicious smell of greasy burgers hit her nose and woke a growl in her stomach. The clack of pool balls and the whoop of men told her at least one game was in progress. She might head back that way later, but for now she wanted a beer, a burger, and some information. All of those could be found at the bar. She made her way through a scatter of tables and parked her butt on a tall stool.
Billie herself was working the bar and she greeted Denise with a nod and something close to a smile. For Billie, that was a warm welcome. The bar owner was a trim fifty-something with short salt and pepper hair and a brisk, no nonsense manner. Even if Denise hadn’t known it, she would have guessed Billie was retired military. Billie had put in her twenty-five in the Marine Corps, and was now enjoying retirement as the owner of a neighborhood bar. Military and ex-military were always welcome here.
“Hey, Chickie,” she called as Denise hooked the heels of her boots over the bottom rung of the stool. “What’ll it be?”
“Beer and a burger basket,” Denise replied. “You know how I like it.”
Billie hollered the order to the back where her husband, Big Joe, manned the grill. She grabbed a longneck out of the case and placed in on the bar in front of Denise. “We haven’t seen you in here for a couple of months. What have you been up to?”
“Just the usual. Work, school, and more work.” She downed a swallow and let it roll, fizzing, down her throat. “That’s good.”
Billie nodded. “Nothing like a cold beer on a hot day. So, what’s up with you and what’s-his-face? That sailor you were seeing last year.”
Denise drank some more. “That’s done. He wanted me to spend more time with him, but you know.” She shrugged wryly. “Work, school, and more work.”
Billie didn’t say any of the usual sympathetic words, just nodded. “When will you be done with school?”
“This is my last year. God willing and the crick don’t rise, I’ll graduate in the spring.”
“You will.” Billie sounded sure. “You work harder than anyone. That’s just who you are.”
Another patron down the bar waved for Billie’s attention. Alone, Denise nursed her beer. The big, flat screen TV mounted in the corner showed a baseball game. The Rangers were down by one in the bottom of the eighth. She hadn’t been to a single game this summer. She loved baseball. Why hadn’t she made the time before school started?
“Hey, sweet cheeks.”
She turned to see Dale, one of the regulars, slide onto the stool beside hers. “Hey, Dale. You do know that anyone else who called me sweet cheeks would regret it, right?”
He laughed and raised a finger to catch Billie’s eye. Billie nodded and went to the cooler. Dale turned to grin at Denise. “I know, but you like my wife too much to hurt me.”
That was true. Dale might act like a flirt, but he was a safe flirt. He was utterly devoted to Marilyn, and had been for the last twenty years. “You’re lucky to have her.”
The creases that age and sun had put on his face shifted in a small, soft smile. “Don’t I know it.” The smile grew. “I saw you here last night, with some high stepping looker.”
“My sister,” she confirmed. “She’s moving to Dallas from Mississippi. She’ll be staying with me for a little while until she finds a job.”
Billie joined them and gave Dale his beer. “Yeah, I heard you were here last night with a woman in a cocktail dress.” Billie shook her head. “A cocktail dress,” she repeated, in something between disgust and wonder.
“I know.” Denise winced. “My sister asked me to take her to my favorite place to hang and get a drink. I guess she meant a club.”
Dale hooted with laughter, and Billie chuckled.
“I don’t go to clubs.” Denise waved her arms around to indicate her surroundings “When I want to go out for a drink, I want to go somewhere that I can relax, maybe shoot some pool or throw some darts. Somewhere like this.” Denise took another sip of her beer. “Last night was interesting. There was a fight back there.” She jerked her chin toward the back where the pool tables were. “The guy who was in it tripped over my sister on his way out.”
Billie muttered something that Denise didn’t catch. Trying to act casual, she asked, “I don’t think I’ve seen him around here before. Is he a regular?”
Billie’s expression was a mix of exasperation and fondness. “Gunnison. He’s trouble. No one you need to know.”
Denise’s mind went to armed robbery, drug dealing, and breaking kneecaps for a crime lord. “Trouble with the law?”
Billie shrugged and wiped her towel over the bar. “Not that kind of trouble. He fights. The man will fight at the drop of a hat. Hell, he’ll drop the hat himself.”
Teaser Tuesday 11/21/17: Strong Hearts
Happy Tuesday!
I’ve been pretty busy lately, but I decided you deserved a little snip from my current work in progress. It is entitled Strong Hearts and comes out in January. Here is a little conversation between the hero and heroine the morning after their first night together. The heroine is not a morning person. 🙂
“Mornin’, Dee,” Brutus said.
Denise’s eyes shot open. The curtains blocked most of the light, but enough came through for her to recognize Brutus’ bedroom. He stood beisde the bed, bending down to kiss her. He tasted minty fresh. She didn’t.
“Ugh.” She pushed up on one elbow, shoving her hair away from her face. “You brushed your teeth already.”
“Yeah, I got up a while ago.” He ran a finger over her cheek in a caress so gentle she almost didn’t feel it. “A man could sure get used to waking up next to you.”
What few brain cells were awake in her head were mush. She made a valiant effort to focus on him.“Uh,” she grunted. “Thanks.”
He directed a beaming smile at her and she concluded he was suicidally chipper in the morning. Since the next thing he did was hand her a cup of coffee, she decided he could live. Besides, he looked darned good in a towel barely hanging onto his hips and little beads of water glistening on his pecs. As memories of last night bombarded her, she decided he looked even better without the towel.
Happy Halloween!
However you celebrate this day, I hope you have a fun, safe, and fabulous time!
I know I’ve posted this every year at this time for several years now, but there may be some who haven’t read this little short scene. I wrote this for a fall themed blog hop. This takes place one year after Wolf’s Glory and features a sneak peek at the heroine of Victoria’s Cat as an infant. Enjoy!
Glory folded her arms, considering the exterior of the small house her mate had built for her. It was painted white, with a wide porch of natural wood on three sides, and a chimney made of native Black Hills stone climbing the fourth. A wisp of smoke rising from the chimney showed white in the sapphire blue of the late afternoon sky. Glory stepped back a few yards, looking at the postcard-perfect view of the house against the reds and golds of the autumn foliage. It was cute.
Glory didn’t do cute. How could she turn cute into scary? Halloween was only a few weeks away. Except for last year, she’d always gone all out decorating for her favorite holiday. Last year … Well, last year she’d been too busy to do anything for Halloween. Between surviving a plane crash, meeting and marrying a hunky werewolf, and finding out she’d gone forward to a time after Armageddon, she’d completely lost track of the days.
But this year would be different. Glory put her hands on her hips, strolling from one end of the house to the other, considering where the spider webs would look most effective.
“Sunshine.”
At the scolding sound of her hunky werewolf’s voice, Glory turned to see him walking toward her from his mother’s house a hundred yards away. Shadow was, as always, all but naked in just moccasins and a breechcloth. His hair, black and thick and heavy, hung down his back to his butt, leaving his broad, beautifully muscled chest bare. At six feet and six inches tall, he was the only man who made Glory feel petite. Hell, he was six inches taller than she was, and almost outweighed her. The fierce Lakota Wolf Clan warrior, who was a terrifying sight in battle, tenderly cradled a pink and blue bundle in one arm.
“Sunshine,” he scolded again. “You are supposed to be lying down, resting.”
“Quit being so bossy. I just wanted to think about how to decorate for Halloween.” She lifted her lips for his kiss and twitched the edge of the baby blanket aside to peek at their daughter’s face. “Hey, there, little Miss Vicki,” she cooed.
“Sh, she’s sleeping.” Shadow hooked his free arm around her waist and towed her up the steps of the porch into their house. “I thought you wanted to call her Victoria.”
“Well, yeah.” Glory watched him set the baby down in her cradle with as much care as if the afghan Lisa Madison had made was wrapped around nitroglycerin. “Victoria for my grandmother, Jillian for Jill, and Tara for your mom. But Victoria Jillian Tara Wolfe is a big mouthful for such a little thing.”
Not that Vicki had felt that little while she was being born. The books in Kearney’s library talked about the joy and beauty of childbirth. They were lucky she wasn’t allowed to burn them. Joy and beauty, her ass. Still, Glory didn’t remember the pain nearly as vividly she remembered the expression on Shadow’s face: terror and joy and awe, all mixed together, as he held the screaming scrap of humanity that was his daughter in his big hands. Glory wished cameras still existed. She never wanted to forget that sight or that moment in time.
“Hm … I wonder what she should be for Halloween? I think I could put together a little witch costume. Do you think we could get a pointy hat to stay on her head?”
“Sunshine, she’s only five weeks old.”
Glory reluctantly agreed. “She’s too young this year, but soon she’ll be going all around the neighborhood Trick or Treating, going to parties, playing with the boys …”
“PLAY—” Almost too late, Shadow remembered to keep his voice low. “Playing with boys?” he hissed, his eyes taking on that weird werewolf glow.
“Uh-huh. You know, Chase and Raven and Matt.”
His eyes went back to normal. “Oh, her cousins, you mean.”
Glory hid a grimace. Their daughter was going to have a hell of a time finding a boy brave enough to date her. That was years away, though, and Glory’s thoughts were on something in the present. She watched her mate put another log on the fire, admiring the way the muscles in his back bunched and smoothed as he moved. Her mate was mouthwateringly sexy. “For this year, I have the perfect costumes for us.”
He turned in a flare of hair, eyes wide in apprehension. “I don’t wear costumes,” he warned her.
“Good,” she purred. “I like you naked best. I thought I could be Little Red Riding Hood and you could be the Big Bad Wolf.” She let her fingers comb through his hair, smooth down his chest to the knot of the cord that held his breechcloth up. “But I don’t have a costume, so I guess we’ll just have to pretend. If I took off my clothes, could you pretend to take a red cloak off me?”
He swallowed hard. “Sunshine, is it too soon? It’s only been a few weeks.”
“Almost six weeks. Jill says everything has healed up just fine after the birth.” She succeeded in loosening his breechcloth. It dropped, showing that though his words were reluctant, his body wasn’t. She took him in her hand, loving the heat and the weight of him. “I’ve missed you, Big Guy.”
His teeth caught her earlobe. “I’ve missed you, Sunshine. I’ll go slow, I promise.”
“Go as fast as you want, but remember the baby’s sleeping. Don’t roar and howl at the end like you always do.”
“Me?” He let go of her ear to give her a wolfish grin. “Who is it that screams my name when she comes?”
She faked a scowl. “I’m not anywhere near as loud as you.”
Shadow lifted her lightly into his arms and shouldered his way into their bedroom. “We’ll see,” he threatened.
Glory surrendered to his hands and mouth. This was a contest she could live with. And if she lost, well, she could live with that too.
Twenty minutes after their bedroom door closed, a roar and a scream woke the baby. In the cradle her grandfather had carved for her, Victoria blinked startled blue eyes, shoved a tiny fist into her mouth and fell back asleep.
My Aspirin Desensitization Update
It has been two years since I was desensitized to aspirin at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, USA. I’ve had several inquiries, both here on my blog and in emails, asking how I’m doing. The answer is I am doing good. Not great, like I-never-had-a-sinus-problem, not lousy, like why-did-I-even-bother. But good is ten times better than I was before I went to the Mayo Clinic.
That’s an honest answer, but it doesn’t really tell you very much, does it? Let me begin with some background. I have had repeated sinus infections for about 30 years. Maybe only 25. I honestly can’t remember. It seems like my whole life I’ve had sinus trouble. Infections don’t respond well to antibiotics, but I’ve had a LOT of them. Over the years, I have become a connoisseur of antibiotics. In addition to the infections, I also have sinus polyps, which doesn’t help with the infections. Since the antibiotics don’t work, I’ve had multiple sinus surgeries. I might get a few months of relief after a surgery, but the polyps came back in only a few months each time. I also developed asthma. And aspirin or ibuprofen could literally send me to the Emergency Room. I spent years sleeping with a wet pillow and a dry mouth because I couldn’t breathe through my nose. I had NO sense of smell. And somehow, the loss of being able to smell my coffee in the morning was the worst thing of all. It was a nightmare way to live. You get the picture, right? Bottom line: Maddy was miserable.
Then my new ENT told me I had Sampters Triad, also called AERD (Aspirin Exasperated Respiratory Disease) and suggested Aspirin Desensitization. You can read about my actual procedure on an earlier post here.
So, what do I feel like today, 2 years after the procedure? For one thing, my head feels light. No pressure and pain or the weight of congestion. I can always breathe through my nose. Seriously. Even during two sinus infections I’ve developed in the past two years, I could breathe through my nose. And did you catch that? Only TWO infections??!!! Right now I am suffering with allergies (it’s October, right?) and I feel a little crappy, but this is only a faint shadow of what I used to feel like EVERY SINGLE DAY. And I know it will go away in a few weeks.
I have some sense of smell. It’s not a vivid as I would like, but this morning I smelled my coffee, even with a little congestion from the allergies. This might be partly because I get a kenalog shot in the spring and in the fall. I had one in May, and it is still working well enough for me to smell my coffee. I call that a win. People who have never lost their sense of smell may not truly understand how wonderful it is to come out of the shower and smell the coffee brewing in the kitchen.
AERD is the kind of thing that can make life difficult. And since it it pretty much invisible, sufferers don’t get much sympathy. People have told me things like, “Don’t sweat the small stuff. Better to lose your sense of smell than your sight.” Which is completely true. I even joke about not having to smell the cast box. But imagine not smelling when the toaster catches fire. Or the roses your husband gave you for your anniversary. Or the scent of your baby’s hair. It IS a loss, but unless you’ve experienced that loss, it doesn’t seem like a big deal.
Are the polyps back? Possibly. My doctor said she couldn’t see any, but she was only looking with the naked eye. The linings of my nasal passages were a little thicker than is normal. That could be from repeated infections and surgeries. There may be polyps up higher in the sinuses that she cannot see, but as long as I am able to breathe she isn’t too concerned about them. I’m guessing the rhinocort I use daily is keeping them at bay.
I am still taking two aspirin a day, along with a zyrtec. Before the procedure, I used to use my albuterol inhaler every day, usually multiple times. Now it’s only when I’m going to exercise and occasionally if I start to feel out of breath. The budesonide rinses are out of my budget, so I just irrigate my nose with saline several times a week (more at the moment with the allergies) and use Rhinocort before bed.
When people ask me if I’m glad I did the aspirin desensitization, my answer is a resounding YES. My sinuses are not perfect. I still get a bit congested, and my sense of smell isn’t as strong as I’d like it to be. But just being able to breathe has made my life so much better. Breathing means better sleep, and better sleep means more energy, and more energy means I get to do more of the stuff I want. I’m not much of a drinker, but I can even enjoy a glass of red wine, which two years ago would have sent me into wheezing overdrive. So, yeah, I’m glad I did it.
Have you had the Aspirin Challenge done? How has it affected your life?
Almost October!
October is coming soon! It is possibly my favorite month of the year. I know, I know, I always say September is my favorite. But September still has several days in the 90s, and by this time I am sick to death of summer. The change from summer to fall has started, but we’re not there yet. And this September wasn’t a good one for me. I spent nearly all of it on Tylenol 3 due to the tooth abscess. I did very little writing. I was tired and crabby, and can you imagine how hard it is to write a sexy love scene when you have to hold an ice pack to your cheek? It does nothing for the mood, let me tell you.
A week ago, on September 21, I had a root canal. I’ve had a few root canals before, and they didn’t hurt much. I remember being a little sore from holding my mouth open so wide for a long time, and a little bruised feeling from the shot. This one was the kind that gives root canals their bad name. Holy moly, I hurt! Thursday, Friday and Saturday were terrible. Sunday was better. On Monday, I must have relapsed, because I hurt for all 10 hours I worked. Tuesday was better, and Wednesday was good. Today I chomped on carrots, so I think I have officially recovered. I go back for the second part on October 4. The dentist said it would be painless. We’ll see.
Fun fact: President Todd is loosely based on my dentist. *ahem* My dentist is actually nothing like Todd. I just used the name.
October is going to be MY MONTH. I am going to write like it’s going out of style. I will do some sewing and knitting, and I’m going to spin. You will see some teasers and excerpts. We will have fun!
That is all.
