After yesterday's all day and all night rain, today is beautiful outside. Makes me wish I didn't have so much to do inside, but the Lugnut and I can take a walk in a little while.
Still working away on Tiger's Tempest in the Gambler's Folly series. I have nearly 18,000 words down so far and, at the moment, a pretty good idea of where we're going. Of course, with my characters, the route could change drastically. They are a headstrong bunch. But that's what I get for writing about alpha male shifters I suppose.
If you could be a shifter, what would you be?
I always thought I would love to be a black leopard. They look so elegant, even if they do seem to have only two attitudes--calm, cool, and collected, or totally pissed off.
So far in my books, including those published and unpublished, I have leopards, panthers, wolves, bears, and now tigers.
What else would you like to see?
From Esperance, the next one in line is Ben of Blackstone's Forge. As you might have guessed, Ben is a blacksmith. What makes him different is his family's Talent for shaping iron.
No... That's enough of a hint. You'll have to read the book for the rest. But how about a tiny excerpt?
****
Excerpt:
If anyplace could be consider as hot as hell, it was a blacksmith's forge in midsummer, Ben thought, as he strode to the well. Icy water filled his mug with a cheerful splash, after a couple quick strokes on the pump handle.
The first mugful went down in three healthy gulps. Pulling the folded kerchief from around his head, he rinsed the salt-encrusted cloth in another cold stream of water from the well.
The second mug of water brought a quick gasp as he poured it over his head, but it was refreshing after several hours of heating and hammering steel in the forge, where he worked with his father. Water flew in a circle of droplets as he shook the excess from his wavy brown hair, leaving it spiked in all directions.
Once more he filled the mug. Leaning his tall frame against the pump, he slowly sipped the cool liquid as his dreamy blue eyes scanned the street around the forge.
"Good morning, Ben," he heard from a familiar voice.
Turning toward the voice, he raised his mug and gave a brief nod to the pretty young woman walking toward him. With her light brown, nearly blond hair, and warm brown eyes, she was a sight to give a man dreams.
"Don't I rate more than a nod, Ben Blackstone?" she demanded. "You could at least smile."
"Hardly seems worth the effort, Deborah, when all it will gain me is a snide remark or a new chastisement for some imagined affront."
"You are the most irritating man I know," she told him as he took another pull from the mug.
He had no response for her accusation and continued to enjoy the water before he had to go back into the hell known as Blackstone's Forge. He loved the work, but summers could be downright miserable.
Deborah was still glaring at him, hands on her hips, head tipped to the side, and eyes flashing in anger.
"Did you need something, Deb, or are you just here to annoy me?"
"My name is Deborah, not Deb, and absolutely not Debbie. And yes, I do need something. I've got better things to do than make a special trip to annoy you."
*****
Need something to fill the time until Ben of Blackstone's Forge is published?
Go on over to Amazon and take a peek!
And as always,
Don't Forget...
...to Share the Romance...
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