“Buried? For some reason he cringed at that word. His bad feeling about all of this was just getting worse.” (page 53)
Release Day! The foreplay has come to its end. All the soft nuzzles of lips upon nipples, all those sweet kisses on the best of those unmentionables have now disappeared. What remains between us this day is the climax.
Let the thunderous waves of pleasure come, let ecstasy rock the boat you lay upon.
Lay all of your defenses down.
Give in to the hot rush that wants to devour you.
Scream as the orgasm takes hold of your soul and shatters it. Relish the devastation, suck it dry.
And know that tonight, tomorrow, for all time to come I am here to bring you more…
Bet you never had a “Please buy my book” quite like that, huh?
*tosses her salesman’s hat to the floor and kicks it out of sight*
Now back to the blog…
Anybody want to take my shift in my brain today? Seriously. I am bone tired of being so… weird. And I can’t even be weird in a cute and snuggly way. No, I have to be weird in the “Jeez, I hope it’s not catching” way.
Take yesterday as an example.
I spent most of the morning and all the early afternoon literally revving myself up to go to the Fed Ex place (a place I’m very unfamiliar with). There was a very important contract I needed to mail to a new publishing house (details to follow in the next days). Well, by the time I got up the nerve to actually go I had wasted the majority of the day worrying about it. Yeah, dumb, I know. Believe me, I know.
Did I go to the Fed Ex place? Yes. Did I get it mailed? No. After a “comedy” of nervous errors, I was told (while holding on to 2 completed forms and a big envelope I had just bought) that they couldn’t mail the contract to a PO Box.
Yeah, I know this kind of stuff happens all the time to everybody. Fortunately though, for everybody’s sanity, everybody isn’t operating with my brain set.
So, I dragged my pitiful self back home, curled up on the couch and called my Mommy. September 19th was officially shot to h-e-double hockey sticks and I’d gotten zero accomplished… except, of course, for the knotted up stomach and the exhaustion-laced nausea.
Yep, sometimes I wish with all my soul that somebody else was Chloe Stowe and I was a woman named Loring.
Until tomorrow and the afterglow…
P.S. *nudge, nudge* “A Woman Named Loring” is one of the title chapters of the day. Got it? Good. Even I get lost sometimes following my line of thinking.
Chapter Five: Home Away from Home
“His eyes popped open and a world of harsh, electric light swallowed him. Trapped in an ice cold fire he couldn’t understand, Cane began to struggle.” (page 65)