It’s been a long time since I’ve blogged. Or have thought about writing. Even picking up a book and starting a story didn’t capture my attention. That book became a DNF, “did not finish.” I can firmly say, “it wasn’t you” (the book), “it was me.”
My energy level was low, and my attention span short. I was mentally and physically exhausted from releasing book after book without a break. Then there was the pandemic, going from three to five dogs, kiddos getting older and requiring a different level of parenting, and the day job sucking the time and energy from me.
Fast forward three years later (I can’t even recall when I last released a book), and I am slowly returning to reading for enjoyment as well as revisiting my works in progress. In that time period, I saw my doctor and found out I was severely Vitamin D deficient, a hazard of living in the Pacific Northwest, where there is a shortage of sunshine.
I am taking my Vitamin D and drinking whole milk. I also get out in the mid-afternoon and soak in as much sunshine as possible. I call it sun therapy.
My writing will progress slowly as life takes on a slower pace. I hope you’ll be patient and continue to wait for Malice and Rue’s enemies-to-friends to you know what romance. In the mean time, here’s a sneak peek, unedited.
Hate Game~ Sneak Peek
“Toe-mae-toe, toe-ma-toe. Anyway, I don’t want you, Rue. You’re nothing but trouble.”
My chest caves in on itself from his hurtful words. I refuse to cry. Crying gives someone power over me. Gives them the chance to wallow in their satisfaction at making me hurt. I step forward and jab my finger into his chest.
“I hate you too.”
“Good.” I jab harder.
He looks down, focusing on my small breasts rather than on my finger on his chest. My breath hitches in my chest. I take slow breaths in and out. My chest rises and falls. He follows the movements. Suddenly, I cannot take a full breath in. I’m lightheaded from his nearness and his scent. Male. Virile.
Cassie. She was with him earlier. They hooked up. I am certain of it. My body goes cold. My finger falls from his chest. I ball my hand against my side.
“I hate you, Malice.”
“Keep saying it, Rue. The feeling is mutual, sweet thing.”
“Don’t call me what you call your girls. I’m not one of them.”
“You’re right, Regret.”
I suck in a breath, having this sudden urge of smacking the smirk off his face. But I go with a nonviolent idea of evening the score.
“I hate that you think you’re better than everyone else,” I say, playing into Malice’s hate game. “You’re not. Strip you of your last name and your parent’s money, and you’re a nobody.”
He crosses his muscular arms over his broad chest. “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never harm me.”
“Seriously? That’s your comeback?”
“You have a better one, Regret?”
He leans into me until our noses touch.
“Stop calling me that.”
“Or else what, Regret?”
I growl low in the back of my throat. He chuckles.
“You gonna do more than hurl words at me? You gonna hurl that skinny ass of yours at me instead?”
I scoff. “You wish.”
“I do, Regret.”
He smiles, and the smile not reaching his eyes, Malice puts distance between us. Palm up, he gestures for me to come and get him.
I narrow my eyes. “You’re asking for it.”
“Ooh, I’m scared.”
“You better be. I’ve had practice wrestling with the guys.”
“This won’t be your average tumble with your boys, Regret. I don’t play fair. Nor do I go easy.”
“My friends don’t show me mercy.”
“I highly doubt that. You’re a girl.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“They go easy on you because you’re a girl. I don’t see you the same.”
He looks my body up and down and something hot flares in the depths of his beautiful eyes. Suddenly, my T-shirt is tight across my breasts. My nipples pebble and press against my bra. Malice zones in on my girls, and my body betrays me more.
My gut clenches in anticipation. My heart does this loud thump, thump, thump against my ribcage. Can Malice tell I am turned on? Oh yes. Yes, he does.