You hear that? Oh yeah, fireworks, but what I hear is the release of my novella,
The Morning After. Some of the time I farm, but the rest of the time I write. So today is for the rest of the time.
The Morning After is part of a series from The Wild Rose Press - Honky Tonk Hearts. Each story in the series is different, but they all are tied to the Lonesome Steer Honky Tonk in some way. I had a lot of fun writing this novella. It's light and funny and strictly romance - Texas style.
Can
there really be love at first sight?
Abigail
Martin doesn’t think so. Unless the sexy redheaded stranger she wakes up with
the morning after her best friend’s wedding is telling the truth.
Bobby
Stockwood fell cowboy-hat-over-boot-heels for the brown-haired beauty, and
married her in an impromptu wedding ceremony.
Now he just has to convince his new bride that the morning after can be
the first day of the rest of their lives.
But
just when Abigail starts believing the fairy-tale is real, she finds out
exactly who Bobby is, and the walls of make-believe start crumbling down.
I'll still do some weeding today. I'll harvest a few veggies for our dinner. And tonight we'll watch the sunset and keep our eyes open for fireworks on the horizon. I hope you all have a great 4th of July. And then I hope you feel like reading a book for sheer entertainment and you might consider The Morning After!
Excerpt:
A
moan.
The
man rolled to his back, kicking off covers.
Abigail
gasped. Her gentleman visitor wore only a bow tie and black socks.
She
crept to the edge of the bed. His face was turned away, further hidden by red
curls hanging down the nape of his neck and onto his cheek. A visual sweep of
the attractive body brought a smile to her face when she paused on his more
than ample endowments. A true redhead. An encounter of this magnitude should be
easy to remember.
Abigail
smiled in spite of her throbbing temples. Inching closer, she nudged his boots
aside with her foot and leaned over to see his face. Mmm. He smelled good, like
rich leather and fresh cut wood. As she bent to get a closer look, Kirby, her sixteen-pound
Siamese cat, entered her room and announced his hunger.
The
visitor stirred, grasped her arm, drawing her down across his hips.
He
rose up on his elbows and looked at her. “So, Abby, you’re a morning person,
are you?”
Abigail
launched off the bed, trying not to come into contact with anymore of the warm
body than she already had. Tripping over the boots, she ended up sprawled on
the floor. “Who…” She gulped. “Who the hell are you?”