To celebrate my shiny new cover, here's a little excerpt shared with my newsletter subscribers! EXCERPT I hear plastic snap and lift my head too fast from the wall, cracking my neck in the process. The world spins before me as my eyes adjust. Mr Spunkytrunks is offering me a bottle of water, the condensation on the outside showing me that it’s icy cold and ready for gulping. Without any decorum, my grabby hands snatch the bottle and bring it to my forehead, rolling the cold plastic over my sweat-sticky skin. The heat today makes me wonder why in the ever-loving fuck I brought us here in summer. Of all times of the year, bloody summer. Idiot! With my eyes closed, I smooth the cold, condensation-wet bottle over my face and down my neck. A soft groan escapes me at the cooling sensation, which seems to elicit a slightly louder groan from the young man I’d almost forgotten is with me. Ha! That’s total bullshit; I knew he was there. Slowly opening my eyes, I have to confess that I like what I see standing nearby. As I continue to roll the cold bottle over my neck and top of my chest, I take in the fine specimen of masculinity that gives me tingles. Bronze from the Queensland sun, muscles galore adorning his sculpted biceps and pecs, and thighs that look like they could support… ahem… well, they look sturdy. His shorts hug those thighs, giving me a better look at the legs. I avoid glancing at the bulge for now. I allow my eyes to scan farther down, coming to rest on the tattoos winding around his calves. A dragon curls its head around the right leg just under his knee, a foreleg and claws resting beneath its chin. A husky chuckle brings my eyes slowly back up his body, not missing an inch of the delicious-looking man. The glint in his eyes and the smile gracing his lips brings that tingle up to a burn. He licks those lips as they roll in and out, a cheeky smile appearing on the glistening, kissable… No! Must not think any more dirty thoughts about-- “Like what you see?” His voice. Oh my God, his voice does it for me every time he speaks. It’s like chocolate-smothered cheesecake. Meeting his eyes, I can’t control the slight nod. Traitorous head! And it seems that my tongue is in on the mutiny as it peeks out to wet my own lips, dry despite the water… which is still in my hand. Without breaking eye contact, I twist the cap off the bottle and gulp the cold water. It soothes the parched walls of my throat, the chill refreshing as it cools the burning desire within me. Or at least I can wish it does. All it really does is give me a brain freeze. Within seconds of guzzling almost a full bottle of ice-cold water, my head is throbbing and searing pain shoots through my temples. “Ah fuck!” I swear, clutching my head as I shake it from side to side. “Fuck a fucking duck!” My foot joins in, stomping on the wooden floor, sending echoes bouncing in the small room. “The pain, the pain!” See, this is why I stay away from Slurpees and shit like that these days; I just have no damn tolerance for the things I used to. Damn aging sucks balls. As I’m in the death throes of a massive head freeze, warm hands slip in under mine and a whispered “I’ve been dreaming of this for two days” feathers across my cheek before lips make contact with mine. Their caress is gentle, trialling the contact, but as the desire flaming through me increases, the head chill wanes and my passion kicks in. He must sense when I’m good to go, as the movement of his lips becomes less gentle, more urgent. A groan vibrates in my mouth as my fingers tug on his hair. When did my hands sneak in there? Who cares; the strands are long enough to grab, and smooth to the touch. I tug again, enjoying the effect it has on his kissing. Unable to help myself, I nibble on his bottom lip, tugging the stubble-edged flesh between my teeth. Unlike previous men, this guy seems to like my lip nibbles and it spurs him on. The kiss becomes deeper, more passionate, and I suddenly find myself pulled up out of my seat and pressed hard against him. Hands are on my ample butt, pushing me closer to his ripped body, my soft and squishy to his hard and oh… hard. Swoon. Instinct has me grinding, pushing my pelvis as close to his as I can manage. It’s divine! His fingers squeeze my arse, and mine are on their way to return the favour when a loud bang has us both jerking back. I lose balance, falling backwards into the chair, hair mussed, legs akimbo, and shooting daggers at the person who dared interrupt the first decent kiss I’ve had in bloody years. The interrupter glares straight back, tapping her foot on the floor and her finger on the watch on her wrist. Ronni huffs impatiently at me. “You’ve had your fun, Mum. Now it’s time to go. You promised we’d go to the art gallery today, and Chrissy wants to talk to the keepers at the zoo. It’s getting bloody hot out there and—” I’m gobsmacked. Utterly speechless. “Your timing sucks nuts, kid.”
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As of last week, I've finished typing Southern Dreams.
Woohoo! It's in the hands of beta readers now, and then back to me for a harsh round or two of editing. Once the formatting is done, I can finalise a paperback cover and get that ball rolling properly. So many steps! Once I'm happy that the book will actually be published this year, I'll put it up for pre-order. This one won't be in KU, but the one I'm adding to and tidying up now will be. Witch Mate? This was part of an anthology and I'm going through it now to make sure it's clean. Well... turns out, I feel like adding to it! So, it'll be bigger than the antho copy and hopefully better. Time shall tell, won't it? In the meantime, know that I am working on things for publication, which should be followed by more things for publication! As belated as it is, welcome to 2023!
It's March already and the last two months have flown by. I hate to think how fast the rest of the year will pass, to be honest. The scary thing about time passing is that you try to keep up with everything and then discover months have gone without you really noticing. Case in point... my newsletter. I keep reminding myself to send one but get sidetracked. I think it's been well over a year now. If you find yourself here somehow and you'd like to sign up to a very infrequent, non-spammy NL, please groove on over to the front page. I really do want to get onto a more regular monthly NL, even have the topics outlined too. Latest news here: My writing buddy, Slinky, died in January. Thankfully for my motivation, I'd finished the draft of Southern Dreams the day before losing him. Slinky was the cutest black cat, with Burmese somewhere in his bloodline, and a flatter nose than our other cats. He would lie across my laptop/notebook/lap/chest to get snuggles. His gorgeous noises and random 'scare me half to death' appearances are sorely missed. It's weird not having my buddy to cuddle up with (or trip over). Ten years with him was just not enough. As a result, and work being constant, the process of typing up my draft has taken a little longer. As of now, March 5th, I have about 10K left to type up. After this comes self-editing, adding Slinky's personality to some of Finley's 10 cats, and cleaning it up for betas. More read throughs, tweaks, and edits, and I hope that June will be the month for release. In the meantime though, I have the cover for Southern Dreams done and ready. The revamped cover for Pineapple Dreams too, which I'll reveal soon. And ... a bunch of short pieces done in the writers' group I run each fortnight. They'll be bonuses for NL subscribers. So, that's the latest, and not so greatest, news from Down Under. |
AuthorAria Peyton is a mum of three, non-wife to one, pet-mum to many. Zany, crazy but never quite fitting in, she loves to write about all kinds of things! And her characters get up to naughtiness behind closed doors... and other times not so private! Archives
September 2023
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