Monday, June 6, 2016

Not a Fan of Monday

Monday's get a bad rap, and I'm here to add my two cents worth. Monday is my busiest day of the week, and the only day I don't have time to write and seems to be all I want to do.

I don't know. Possibly if I skipped work, told my boss I can't teach or grade papers; tell my students they'll have to wait until later in the semester to get their papers back, I could write to my heart's content.

But, that's impossible. The job pays the bills, for now.

Anyway, once I finish the job I'm being paid for I'm left with a lot of frustrating hours trying to change beats in my head, to gear up for the following day.

It's not easy. That is when I clean the kitchen, wash some clothes, anything to recreate the creative juices that flowed through my brain all day.

While this problem is par for the course for me, today, I'm taking the time to write down my goal for tomorrow. What I plan to accomplish.

You see, I've written Boxer Briefs & Boots. Cranked out a short story to accompany that novel. Now, I'm back in first round edits with A Six Pack of Stetsons, book 2 of Cowboy Cover Models Series.

So, when I'm bummed out about this time of the afternoon, also brain dead from reading college essays, I have a better tool to restructure my mind.

Monday's don't have to be bland and boring, and definitely unproductive in my writing. I just need a new way to refocus and today I've hit  upon what works for me.

BTW, Here's an excerpt from A Six Pack of Stetsons. And, I will be popping in to add more on BBandB, and Jacy and Trace.

Finally, if you're bogged down, join me for NaNoWriMo camp in July. I'll have A Six Pack of Stetsons finished by the end of camp.

Happy Monday Peeps.

Tamara Brooks stood just outside of Masters Steakhouse Bar & Grille, smoothing her damp palms down her hips trying to gather the courage to walk through the door. This was their last meeting. There would be no more late lunches, business breakfasts.
Tamara smiled inwardly. She wanted to leave him with a lasting impression.
Yet, she deliberately chose a blue jean skirt, hitting mid-thigh. It showed off her shapely legs, which made her five-foot-two frame look taller. She added cowgirl boots, completing the outfit with the light blue gauzy, peasant style top with a low cutting neckline. She made a statement of chic yet casual.
No reason at all to be nervous.
Jax would take one look at her and think late lunch. A business meeting to finalize the plans for his photo shoot with Jacy.
Then why did she continually have to remind herself that?
Maybe because it had something to do with the way her body responded to him. Even before she agreed to the double-date, her nipples would pucker and her belly would clench when she saw him in public. Since then her body was in a constant state of arousal. A low hum like she put out a low voltage of electric current, vibrated within her body.
Ignoring the disappointment that this was the last time she’d spend a few hours alone with the hunky Jackson Taylor, Tamara recalled the highlights of their last meetings. She opened up to him, talking about college and an internship with an author and then working for Anastasia.
Tamara dropped her head to her chest. What they should have talked about was Jackson’s concerns of keeping his anonymity and him wanting to deposit his payment in father’s account.
Yes, she should have kept to business. Instead, their meetings had the distinct feel of a—date.
Tamara jerked her hand off the brass door handle, in her tight grip, as if it had shocked her. She turned her back to the building and began to pace. Jackson knew more about her than anyone in Landmark. She easily spilled her guts. Telling him about her siblings, both older her brother living in Oregon and her sister near her parents in Nashville. She left out the part where her brother practically disowned their parents and her older sister had blindly followed them into the family business. 
Why? Because she had let her attraction for Jackson cloud her judgment.
Should have stuck to business. Yeah, well there wasn’t anything left to talk about. Every detail, from pinning him down to a date for the shoot to reassuring him there would be no nudity had been completed in a little over an hour, but she deliberately drew out the time spent with him.
“Crap.” Heat licked up her spine. It was the weather, hot and humid. Yeah, it has nothing to do with the words pin and Jax in the same sentence. She turned pacing away from the door once more to keep anyone exiting the building from seeing her beaded nipples that came from the fantasies of her and Jax.
Silly fantasies where she found him in the barn, shirtless sweat clinging to his muscled torso after a hot day’s work and they wound up in the hayloft. Senseless fantasies of running her hands over the corded muscles of his forearms, scraping her fingernails over his thick chest, pressing her body into his. The sound of her breath whooshing from her lungs punctuated the air. Sensual fantasies where she leaned up on her toes, kissing the hollow between his collarbones, nuzzling the scruff of beard covering his jaw, before kissing his sinfully scrumptious lips—
Tamara clamped down on her daydreams. That ridiculous double date with Jacy and Trace was the only reason she thought of Jackson at all. Sometimes girls’ night out was more like truth or dare without the dare and all truth.
Should have never mentioned Jax’s hazel eyes. At least she hadn’t spilled the fact when he pinned her with them, like green and gold laser beams, her body heated to searing temperatures and her panties became soaked.
One good thing to come of it was, Jacy and Trace were dating. “For the time being,” she muttered, gravel crunched beneath her booted heels as she walked. He’d let Stasia keep his likeness on the book cover. More importantly, Jacy had found a great guy.
Tamara’s thought came back to the issue at hand. Her business meeting with Jax. Anastasia had liked the idea of real cowboys on the cover of her romance novels that, lately, Tamara’s full-time assignment was to find men buff and beautiful enough to grace the cover of her books.
Well, there was no shortage of cowboys in Texas. Good-looking muscular men, lots and lots of men with muscles. Handsome men, but none as striking as Jackson.
What the hell, Tam? You’re here to get Jax’s signature that’s all.
Which she had conveniently forgotten the last three meetings.
Now, if she could get her mind off a certain cowboy, she’d feel better, peachy, maybe even great.
Air pushed between her parted lips in frustration. It seemed an impossibility. And, believe her, she had tried. Yet, every word she wrote—Tamara slowed her steps. Nope, she refused to relive failed lyrics with his name or looks or freaking cowboys in each line—nope not going to do that.
You have no business writing songs about him.
Yes, well that was a moot point that had been hacked to death as she lay in bed at night surrounded by mounds of paper balls. Well, it was time to put her infatuation to sleep.
Tamara squared her narrow shoulders, straightened to her full height, looked up, seeing she stood at the entrance.

“Just two short minutes for him to sign the papers and I’ll be on my way,” she murmured, reaching out, pulling open the door stepping inside. Cool air hit her overheated body, making her already tight nipples pucker even more. 

How I imagine Tamara looks

Boxer Briefs & Boots

Hello, everyone. The last few years have been difficult. With the death of my husband came many responsibilities. Some I was ready for. Many...