Updates from the Writing Cave
I expect to be on the quiet side for a while. I’m close, oh so close, to finishing my current project. As of today, I have a little over 84,000 words. I know exactly what needs to get written (not always the case, LOL). I’m excited, yet sad at the same time. I love this couple!
But I love Sebastian and Freddie too, who are about to make their debut in Margaret Rowe’s Any Wicked Thing from Berkley Heat on March 1. Look for excerpts on the blog in the coming weeks. Here’s a snippet:
Frederica removed her spectacles and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She didn’t want to see her embroidery anyway—she was making a dog’s dinner of the vines and flowers on the pointless pillow case. Why embellish something that was to be drooled on? It was not as though she’d ever have a man in her bed to impress with her neat French knots and chain stitches. And if that’s all he’d be looking at—
A perfectly wicked thought crossed her mind. True, she had pledged to herself to never marry. She planned on hiring a much nicer companion than Mrs. Carroll in two years when she came into her funds and live modestly on her inheritance, with perhaps a faithful dog or a cat. Perhaps both. Men were, on the whole, disappointing creatures who cared for nothing but their own comforts, and often had fleas besides. Sebastian was the very model of such a man—selfish, careless, reckless. But the play upon the family name—he was known as God of Sin by the chin-wags—was surely deserved.
Frederica’s paltry attempt at sexual experience a decade ago should probably not even be counted as such. While she had undoubtedly lost her virginity, she’d never been transported to heaven as was rumored possible. Over the years, she had achieved it for herself with considerable effort without going insane or blind, but how lovely it would be to be brought to abandon by a skillful lover.
A Sebastian who was not dead drunk or full of poppy smoke. A Sebastian who had ten years to hone his skills and earn his disreputable reputation. Of course, he might have picked up something far less desirable than knowledge—gentlemen were dying off left and right from debauchery. But if Sebastian didn’t have the pox or nasty little insects nesting in his nether hair, he just might do again.
How very shocking. She was considering making a second mistake with Sebastian. In a real bed this time, with embroidered pillowcases and clean linens and candles scattered about the room illuminating his masculine perfection.
Of course, there was a considerable impediment to her plan. Sebastian Goddard hated her.
But not for long. *g*