And the first day, while it didn't get me down, was tough to get out a decent word count. Mondays are a bust because of my job. Yes, I still have to work, pay those nasty bills each month, and so I completed my Monday tasks with the hopes of getting in some writing later in the evening.
I did get in a few hundred words, but family circumstances, dealing with my teenage niece, she's practically mine since she's always here, and her rough day at school, trying to schedule getting her license, and parents just took up the rest of my evening.
Today, I'm on track. During this little breather I thought I'd post part of chapter One. And I hope you'll check back on Friday when I give part of chapter one that covers my fictional town Landmark, Texas where this series takes place.
Tamara ran her damp palms down the peasant style gauzy, light blue top, trying to gather the courage that threatened to desert her. There was no need for her to be nervous. Just a late lunch, a business meeting actually, to plan Jackson’s shoot with Jacy.
She had covered Jackson’s concerns in their last three meetings, so this was just a formality to sign the contract. Knowing she should have pinned the man down to a day and time their last meeting, “crap,” why did she think of pinning and Jax at the same time. Being touched, kissed, heck, anything by Jackson Taylor seemed to star in her fantasies the last few months.
“Ever since that silly double date with Jacy and Trace.” All was fine on that front, “for the time being.” They were dating and he’d let Stasia keep his likeness on the book cover, so Tamara was feeling pretty confident right now. Jax’s signature was just a formality.
Now, if she could get her mind off a certain cowboy, she’d feel better, peachy, maybe even great.
Yet, she couldn’t get Jax off of her mind, and she had tried. But it seemed every word she wrote—nope she refused to relive every failed lyric with his name or looks or freaking cowboys in each line—nope not going to do that.Grabbing ahold of her flailing confidence, she squared her narrow shoulders, straightened to her full five foot two height, and pushed open the door stepping inside Master’s Steakhouse Bar & Grille. “All I need is a few short minutes for him to sign the papers,” she murmured, entering the establishment. Cool air hit her overheated body. Her second summer in Landmark was proving to be a scorcher, hot and humid like Nashville and difficult to get used to since she had spent last summer in Baltimore.