Does
anyone else seem to need a lot more sleep at this time of the year? The idea of hibernation has always sounded
good to me. Stuff myself with my
favorite foods, have a nice long sleep, then wake up thin and hungry.
The
reality of hibernation is not quite as appealing as it sounds. Lower body temperatures, below 37 degrees F,
can disrupt the digestive tract and may cause pain. Cold temperatures can also suppress the
immune system and make us more vulnerable to infections. Worst of all, some animals coming out of
hibernation show signs of sleep deprivation.
WHAT! That wouldn’t work for me! The low metabolism and body temperature of
torpor can affect brain activity associated with sleep regulation and memory.
No
one knows how this would work with humans, but since my memory is already
challenged I guess I’ll stick with my normal routine; early to bed and late to
rise. And hope I don’t have too many of
those nights where my brain seems to have overloaded on caffeine (which I avoid
after noon for this very reason). There is nothing worse than tossing and
turning as everything runs at breakneck speed through my head; past, present
and utter nonsense, like a movie trailer gone berserk.
Despite
my propensity for lots of sleep I don’t feel much of an urge to go out, so I’m
reasonably productive during the daylight hours, which are finally getting
longer, thank goodness.
What I’m
currently working on: Releasing UNTAMED, my first steamy contemporary romance
in a long time. Book 3 in Secret
Seductions.
Paris
heard a shout from the far end of the street. She strolled down to join the
onlookers outside a split rail fence, then squeezed forward for a better view
of the cowboy who stood inside the corral, where an extremely skittish-looking mare
eyed him warily.
While
most eyes were drawn to the horse, Paris’s gaze was riveted on the man and the
way all six-plus denim-clad feet of him exuded power and control. Nut brown leather chaps gloved long, muscular
legs and slapped together as he walked toward the horse. Did any garment better enhance a man’s
masculinity, the way they emphasized the exposed denim-V of his crotch?
Not
that he required special clothing to emphasize the fact that he was every inch
a virile male. From fathomless dark eyes
beneath winged brows, a square jaw peppered with a day’s growth of whiskers,
and capable broad shoulders tapering to lean hips, everything about the man
proclaimed him pure alpha male.
Paris
sighed. When he removed his leather
gloves and tucked them into his back pocket her sigh deepened, for he had
fabulous hands, big and strong. And
judging by the way he handled the horse he certainly knew how to use them.
What
would those hands feel like caressing her—sliding slowly up over her hips and
waist to cup her breasts, as his dark smoldering eyes gazed into hers with
desire?
Her
nipples tightened. He’d slowly unbutton
her blouse, drawing out the anticipation one button at a time, finally unveiling
her lacy bra. Beads of perspiration dewed
her hair line and her breathing grew shallow.
When
his gaze met hers Paris flushed, unable to look away. It was almost as if he could read her
thoughts, know her desire. The
possibility inflamed her further, making the blood pound in her veins. After a
long breathless moment, he turned his attention back to the horse. Suddenly feeling in need of a cold drink,
Paris headed back down Main Street.
The
saloon doors swung open on silent hinges and her footsteps rang against the
wooden floor as she crossed the room. She leaned against the gleaming mahogany bar and
hooked her foot on the brass railing, examining the gleaming liquor bottles lining
the shelves behind the bar.
“What’ll
you have?” asked the burly bartender.
“Just
a club soda.”
A
deep, masculine voice drawled from the doorway.
“Tearoom’s at the other end of town.”
Paris
slowly turned toward the speaker silhouetted in the doorway. His face was shadowed beneath a black Stetson,
and a faded denim jacket clung to his shoulders. As he started toward her, brown leather chaps
shifted on his hips, emphasizing the triangle of equally faded denim sheathing
his masculine attributes.
Her
cowboy.
He
advanced with a jangle of spurs and the solid tread of well-worn boot heels. Up
close he was even more ruggedly good-looking, and his dark eyes hinted at
something untamed about their owner.
Right now, those eyes were freely checking her out.
His
gaze moved from her eyes to her lips, then dropped to linger on the shadowy
cleavage revealed by the scooped neckline of her costume.
His
X-ray vision breached the exotic lingerie she secretly indulged in and devoured
her beneath the clothes.
“You’re
not going to make me drink alone, are you?
You look like a chardonnay kind of girl,” he drawled.
“Actually,
I prefer sauvignon blanc,” she said coolly.
A
half-filled wine glass instantly appeared before her next to a tumbler of whiskey. His eyes locked to hers, the cowboy clinked
his whiskey glass against her wineglass and swallowed. Her gaze followed the long, tanned line of
his throat as he drank. They sure didn’t
grow men like this in Seattle.
“What’s
your name, Princess?”
Princess? She rolled her eyes but couldn’t deny his
charm.
“Paris. Paris Sommer.”
“Mitchell
Brand the third. Folks call me Brand.” His tone told her he was proud of his name,
proud of who he was. “Well, Paris
Sommer, you’re in Forked Creek now. The
normal rules don’t apply.”
I am also editing
BARRON’S BRIDE to release in February or March.
(This brother has not gone easily to the altar)
Drafting
BENJAMIN’S BRIDE for a later spring release
Final
touches to UNDERCOVER for release next month.
(I hope)
Writing
a novella, PERCY’S HOPE, about what Sir Percival Bloom has been up to while he’s
off stage from Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. I can tell you that he meets a special
lady called Hope.
And
that’s only the beginning of what I have planned for 2020. Just looking at the amount of work ahead
makes me tired. Perhaps I should go have
a nap.
Before
you comment below as to whether you tend to sleep more in the winter or not,
make sure you enter our Rafflecopter Draw.
We love giving away Amazon gift cards because we are pretty sure most
readers will use them to buy books.
Win-win! http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/21df08a233/
My other exciting news is that UNMASKED has made it to round 2 of a cover contest. Your vote will help out a wonderful new cover artist just starting out. Nothing to buy. No emails collected. One click is all it takes. https://allauthor.com/cover-of-the-month/6729/
See you next month! Kathleen
