“If you don’t read the newspapers you are uninformed. If you do read the newspapers you are misinformed.”
“The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who can’t read them.”
Aren’t these great? The first one is the one that really stuck in my mind and prompted me to go to my files and resurrect the others. I’ve just finished editing my book no. 23, polishing it enough to go to my editor. I have a dreadful habit of repeating words, a few old stand-bys such as ‘but’ and ‘very’. In this book I over-used ‘although’ to a ridiculous extent, but thank heavens one of my beta editors caught it. Can’t show you this one yet, but instead I’ll include a blurb and excerpt from the book Passion in Print released this week.
Two conflicting visions torment Vickie, one promising happiness, the other with Cabot weeping over their lost love. As a mage, Vickie's visions are prescient, but how can they both be true?
Excerpt from when Vicky and Cabot meet in the first chapter, and it gets hotter later on!
"The sudden roar of a powerful motor startled her out of her absorption. Loud enough to command anyone’s attention and perilously near and frightening. Looking up, she froze at the sight of a bright yellow roadster barreling directly toward her. Glancing wildly around and uncertain which way to run, she threw herself to the ground at the side of the road. The car whizzed by her, not quite as close as she’d feared, but still terrifying. At the seemingly last second the careless driver swerved as if to miss her, and squarely hit a running dog. In horror, she stared at the poor animal lying motionless on the ground.
How did the fool dare drive so recklessly? She swallowed her anger, jumped to her feet and hurried toward the still form of the injured animal. Perhaps she could help him in some way, even though the body wasn’t twitching at all.
Before she could reach the dog she heard the screeching squeal of brakes and a strange man swept her into his arms. Stopping her so quickly, she gasped. A handsome specimen of a male, even if he was a brute. Blessed Merlin, how could one man be so gorgeous? He positively exuded male potency and allure. She stared at the blond hair falling over his collar. Longer than was stylish, but making her itch to touch the beautiful locks. And then there were his dazzling dark eyes. Her brothers were counted handsome, but something extraordinary about this man stopped her breath. He was so, so virile. Exuding a formidable masculine power. Trying to twist from his hold, she found him compellingly strong.
She batted at the steel fingers molding her body to his. Like a molten wax seal. Like hot glue.
“You blasted idiot, take your hands off me at once. That poor dog needs help. I’m able to relieve his pain.”
She fought to free herself but the large hands only tightened as the stranger sculpted her to him, holding her against a warm body sending tremors through hers even as she struggled. Dear Merlin, his virility stunned her.
She felt every plane of his impressive frame. His arms enfolded her with remarkable intensity, holding her almost motionless against him.
Her eyes widened with recognition of his obvious masculinity. His male member pressed hot against her stomach. Dear Merlin, all of him was big. The stranger held her plastered to him, the suddenness and size of his erection impressive. He couldn’t walk around like this all the time, could he? She stared at the ground, shocked at her desire to wiggle closer and feel if his erection was as rock hard as it seemed.
She must be losing her mind. He was a complete stranger. How in the name of all the mages could she even think such weird thoughts? And hadn’t she just named him a brute?"
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