Finding Home teaser, Ch. 4

Santa-Monica-pier

We get colors back home, but not like this. Blues that are blue and green and gray and purple all at the same time. Red and oranges the color of kids’ play-doh. Everywhere I look, it’s excess but she’s an anchor. I just want to hold on. She’s a new color, too, darker than before but still pale. Her hair’s got red in it and I wonder if that’s from this sun or if she done something to it.

We walk down this big boardwalk to the shore. There’s a Ferris wheel and a fair number of beggars. She shakes her head but I stop for my billfold. There a lot of them close together here but I pass out dollars until I’m out of ones and then we move on. They call behind us, “Thank you. Cowboy, huh? Thank you.”

I can’t be this close to her and not so I reach down and grip her hand. That blue out there is burning now with the sunset. I think I may go up in flames too. “I know you needed time but I didn’t know what to do when you didn’t come home for Thanksgiving.” I’m trying to tell her, and she’s done closing her eyes and sighing at me.

“Don’t.”

Well, how can I not? She’s right up there with the Redeemer and she’s so close to me, her fingers in mine, Alpha and Omega, my beginning and my end. Lord, God, but she may end me yet.

Finding Home (a rec and a preview)

I’m posting a short Christmas story, Finding Home. The International House of Fanfiction (FicSisters) graciously put up a quick recommendation of it today, and they included this beautiful banner, which I am in love with:

 

FINDING-HOME

Ohmahgoshhh. Isn’t that pretty? LOVE. I am in love. And ever so grateful. If you are interested in the story, you can find it on my my fanfiction profile and my fictionpad one.

And because I am heading out this weekend for a visit and am not sure if I will get the next chapter out before Monday, here’s a short preview:

love is pain

I’m not going home for Thanksgiving. I can’t face him. I can’t walk down the aisle at church with Daddy and see him over there with Guv and Essie May and pretend that my life is rolling on without us. Life endures despite my best efforts to build a concrete wall of nothingness that will finally make all the noise in my fucked up headspace stop. I function­–step, work, repeat, and retreat to madness every day. Every second of every hour I breathe with my empty womb eroding my sanity and this sucking hole in my heart where he and these two babies tug at me, crush me with what could have been, what should have been, what I might have done, what he said, and worst of all, what might never be.

 

Cullen’s Roadhouse, Ch 46 teaser

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She goes across the room and starts digging through her giant leather bag for something.

“You’re such a bitch sometimes. I ought to let you lay here and rot in your misery. Lucky for you, I’m actually a good friend.”

I’m out of Kleenex. “If you’re here to make me feel like shit, I already do. So can you just go?”

She pulls a wadded brochure out of the depths of her purse. “No, you idiot. But you can. Get up. You’re going for a run.”

Cullen’s Roadhouse, Ch 45 teaser

He’s tentative at first, his fingers soft against the column of my neck, but his mouth moves against me until my mouth opens and he’s inside it. Once inside, he breaks and he rallies, and I feel it in the way his hands against me start to grab and pull and we tilt. I feel it in the way his lips are over mine and his tongue is trailing down my jaw and my throat, and he says, “God, oh, God.”

kissing gif 2

Cullen’s Roadhouse, Ch 44 teaser

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“Well, have a good one,” I say, and I’m trying to get around him but he’s not having it.

“Stay,” he says, and I don’t want to listen but I can’t make my feet move or my eyes close or my ears seal.

“Stay where? We’re closing.” I won’t look at him, which is a switch I know. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Here,” he says, and his hand is on my arm and it’s branding me. He gives Leah the other roll to count and now he’s got both of them on me, just lightly, on my upper arms and he drops them quickly but I can still feel him. His wide chest about meets my chin and cheek because he’s just that tall and he really is that close. “Just hang out with me a while. I have to help Dad close down and then we can talk or something. Outside. You want to?”

I want. I want so much.

One Summer: a rec and thank yous

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Banner credit: FallingsnowWinter

Banner credit: FallingsnowWinter

FicSisters and the amazing PattyRosa featured One Summer yesterday. FallingsnowWinter made this incredible banner for it. Isn’t it beautiful and so, so sexy?! I can’t tell you how exciting this is for me, or begin to convey how grateful I am when anybody notices what I write. It’s like Christmas and my birthday and my anniversary all wrapped up together because I have been writing for a long, long time. My computer is full of stuff, ideas, outlines, chapters of things that I may do at some point, and things I am guarding for when my heart can handle going all in. Dh tells me what I do is great, but he’s my dh, and he’s supposed to be encouraging. I don’t share what I write with anyone else really.

To have recognition at all, whether it be a story alert from a reader, a review, or a nice feature like this, still just blows me away. So many people have been kind and welcoming to me since I put myself out there (The Lemonade Stand, Sunflower Fanfiction, Donna, Margie, Kni, PattyRosa, and the FicSisters to name a few) and I just want you all to know how much it means to me. It’s so nice to put things out there and not only have people not hate them, but be excited about them. I love it when I notice twitter or FB threads where people talk about something I wrote. Even if they are saying they think a character is crazy, I still enjoy it because if they are talking, that means they are reading and invested.

I have a busy summer going, as I’m sure all of you do, so I have no business starting another story, but the voices in my head won’t shut up. Thanks for listening with me. I’m excited to meet some of you in Nashville for TFMU in a few weeks!

Cullen’s Roadhouse, Ch 37 teaser

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I love him now, driving through town in an old ‘vette, the smell of decades old leather seats around us while my thighs are sticking to them. I think I need him more every second I know him and somehow this makes perfect sense at the same time that it is the biggest heartbreak of my life. If I am doomed to love him a little more each day I know him, then all I can do is pray that the days never end because I do not want my old lives anymore. I do not want those old versions of me. I want the one I see in the reflection of his eyes and the curve of his lips and the feel of his fingers on my hand. I want the me he awakens when we are together.

I do not want to fall in love once. I want to fall in love every moment we get together, through the hard ones and the great ones and the ones where there are futures and things I am not guaranteed and never wanted until I knew him. I know it’s fast. It’s so, so fast. Love happens against our best intentions, over and over, for as long as we keep waking up and working for it. I think the trick is not to quit working for it.

So many people quit. They get tired of looking for what will make the other person happy, they start thinking about themselves and their woe-is-me-the-grass-is-always-greener and they bail. I think Edward Cullen is used to quitters and snivelers and coat tail-riders. Well, I’ve been down but I’m not out. You never count a southern woman out. I want this man. I’m not giving up on him. Lordy, no. I will not.