My word count sucks. Not only was I consumed by two weeks of Edit Hell, but chaos reigned supreme at our house. So please forgive the spotty posting! Things (may) be settling down; I'm not sure.
As of today, we can see the back wall and floor of the storage unit. Conversely, the far wall/floor of one of the corners of my basement are now occupied by boxes. Only a few more trips and we will be returning the keys. My 'life' will soon be in our basement. The good news? I've unearthed five more boxes of books.
On A Happy Note:
Here's an excerpt from Kenzie's upcoming Wild At Heart. Enjoy!
Angela Clayborn has just discovered the man she sent to prison nearly two years before has been granted an early release. Torn between wanting to see him and fearful if she does, sparks fly when Steve Blumenthal appears in her gift shop and later at her condo. Will Angie free her heart from its icy prison? Has Steve really turned his life around, or is it a hoax?
Meanwhile, in Colorado on business, Angie’s current boyfriend, Brad Morrison, is wrestling with his own call of the wild. He’s met unconventional, sexy Emma Nichols, who runs not only her own riding stable, but helps out with her family’s woodworking store in Estes Park. Emma resents Brad’s offer to help during a family crisis, but eventually discovers that Fate sometimes sends people down unexpected paths to love. Can Brad tame a wildcat? Or will Emma settle for the safe path?
Excerpt: Steve and Angie
“Steve?” she whispered. “Oh dear God…Steve?” Her knees shook as tall, blond, handsome Steve walked toward her. Nearly a year and a half had passed; his intense blue gaze still sent flutters to her stomach. He had lines in his face now, but the smile was the same, that brilliant charm which he knew full well how it affected the female population. His light blond hair was darker, and cropped close to his skull; his nose was crooked, the result from the last inmate fight, Angie recalled. And his muscles were more developed. Prison, it seemed, had sculpted his body well, for instead of merely built like a tank, he was now built like a prize fighter. Angie stepped back as he advanced, and stopped when she backed into a brightly decorated park bench and nearly lost her balance.
“Careful there, hon.” He held up his hands. “I just wanted to see you, Ange. I don’t want to harm you; I don’t want to scare you. I’ve just gotten released and…”
Angie moved toward the counter in order to put as much distance between them. Her mouth went dry; she tried licking her lips, but there was no moisture. “Wh….what are you doing?” she whispered, feeling the panic rising in her chest. “Leave…leave me alone, please…”
A flash of hurt crossed his features. “Awe, Angie…I’m clean, I swear.” His brow furrowed, as he stopped just beyond the counter. “You don’t have to be scared of me, baby.” He shoved his hands in his hip pockets. “You’re all I’ve ever thought about the entire time. What we had and what I threw away…”
Angie found her voice and her anger at the same time. “We had a good friendship and I trusted you,” Her tone grew stronger as she spoke. “You broke into my home…you tried to steal the TV, for god’s sake! Not to mention my stereo.” She slapped her hands on the counter. “Do you know how hard it was for me to sleep after that? I can’t even sleep now, unless I know every single door and window is locked tight. You took away my security, my self-respect….and you think you just made a mistake?” She moved around from behind the counter and rounded on him. Smack! She balled her fist and punched him in the face. Shaking her stinging knuckles, she slapped him across the other cheek with the opposite hand, and poked a finger in his chest, not even noticing he was stepping backwards.
“How dare you come into my shop, my business, and spout your prison counselor’s platitudes.” Poke! “I am over you, Steve. Get that? Over! So get out of here and leave me the hell alone.” By this time, they’d reached the door, with Steve reaching for the doorknob, rubbing his sore face.
“I am not yours anymore, now get out.” Angie gave him a push, which sent him sprawling through the doorway just as he managed to open it.
“You haven’t seen the last of me,” he thundered back at her. “I try to make amends, but no; you won’t listen, as usual.”