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The Prodigal Post-its have returned! After organizing my desk, I found three wayward packs. Yay!
Seeing them in a tidy little stack, I have the illusion that everything is under control. That I won’t fill half a page with random story facts, then fill the other with a grocery list. Or that I won’t scrawl the “most crucial story fact EVER” up the sides (not realizing until later that it’s illegible). Yup. This time it will be different.
Welcome back into the fold, little ones. We have a new story to write.
I’ve done it! I finally finished (and submitted) TEN KISSES TO SCANDAL! This cold did not stop me. The clogged pipes in the house did not stop me (note to self: call the plumber asap). Not even the town flood of 2018 could stop me! Nope. I. Am. A. Force. 😉
And now to clean up my desk. Book #3 in the Misadventures in Matchmaking series awaits…
Admittedly, early on when the temperatures were below 0, I thought the month would never end.Then poof! it just disappeared. It’s true what they say, I guess, time flies when you’re having fun. And January has flown by while I’ve been writing TEN KISSES TO SCANDAL (book #2 of the Misadventures in Matchmaking series), and editing the galley for HOW TO FORGET A DUKE (book #1, available for pre-order now, in print May, 29, 2018).
The best part is that I can share my excitement with each of you. So I’m posting this sneak peek inside the cover of HOW TO FORGET A DUKE (more snippets to come).
“I’m quite perceptive, remember? And perhaps it was the way you looked at my mouth just now and earlier, too, like you’d . . . sampled it before.” The temptress pressed her lips together. “Hmm. Is that the reason you glower at me? Because I’ve forgotten our kiss? Likely that is a deathblow to any man’s ego.”
And suddenly, there was a completely new type of mischief in her gaze. A feminine, sultry type that no conniving, spying debutante with amnesia ought to have.
He was burning up, his cravat itchy. He fought like hell not to pull the linen away from his throat and give away his discomfort. Likely, she would make more of the gesture than it was—which was merely a reaction to starch. Yet even as the excuse formed in his mind, not even he believed it.
“You have not wounded my ego in any way because the event you mentioned never occurred.”
Then the lips he’d never sampled spread in a guileless grin. “So you say, Rydstrom.”
He gritted his teeth, letting her have the last word as she sauntered past him. It was the safer thing to do. But damn it all if he wasn’t tempted to pull her against him and prove that there was no possible way she could ever forget his kiss.
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