Due to a bunch of craziness, obligations, unexpected turns of events, and life in general, I’m way, way behind in my self-imposed writing schedule.
I’ve been working on Bertie (Pendleton Petticoats, Book 6) and was desperate to finish her yesterday.
So I did.
I spent almost 13 hours writing yesterday, putting 16, 543 words into the story before reaching a total of 85, 081.That was a new personal record for me. The most words I’ve written in a day totaled around 15,000 when I was working on The Coffee Girl.
Today, both my brain and body are exhausted, but boy, it feels good to have finished her story!
I don’t have a release date yet and because I’m so far behind on my other projects, I won’t be working on edits to Bertie for a while.
But I couldn’t leave you without a little teaser from the story (just keep in mind it is first draft and rough!).
“Do you need something, Bertie?” Riley asked without turning to look at her.
Somewhat miffed at his suddenly curt behavior, she grabbed his arm, effectively stopping him.
Riley glared at her hand for such a long time, Bertie wondered if her touch unsettled him as much as it did her. The skin of his forearm beneath her palm was warm. Tingles trailed from the point of contact up her arm and down to her toes. She trembled slightly and took a deep breath. “What’s wrong, Riley? You seem upset, more than usual.”
“I’m not upset, Bertie. Just tired. It’s been a long day.” Riley inclined his head toward the house. “You better go back to the house – back to Nik.”
“Back to Nik? What’s Nik got to do with anything?” Bertie moved her hand up Riley’s arm without thinking about her actions or the response it might draw out of Riley. The rock-hard strength of his upper arm stiffened and Riley released a whoosh of air.
With a quick glance around, he grabbed her arm and propelled her around the side of the barn, out of sight of everyone.
For a moment, memories of being forced through the dark by Richard Kent descended upon her like a swarm of locusts. She stumbled under the weight of her fear and would have fallen to the ground, but Riley swept her into his arms and leaned against the barn.
He lowered his head so close to Bertie’s she could see the fire burning in his eyes, even in the moonlight.
“Riley?” That one word held questions, consent, and care.
“Is Nik courting you, Bertie?” Riley’s voice was low and strained.
“Courting me?” Bertie released a sigh. “Nik and I are just friends. Good friends.”
“How good of friends?” Riley asked, slowly closing the distance between his mouth and hers.
“What does it matter to you, Riley? Why do you care?” Bertie’s couldn’t shift her gaze from Riley’s lips. They hovered so achingly close to her own.
“Oh, I care, Roberta Elizabeth. I care more than I should and far more than you know.” Riley’s mouth brushed against hers so softly she wasn’t sure they’d touched. He lifted his head and looked into her face, searching for something he seemed to find before he whispered her name again, making a tremor of anticipation race through her.