But it just seemed to be a story that I couldn't ignore, much like Dex's story in HH1 (Human Hieroglyphix 1 for the uninitiated. Yeah, I'm kicking myself about creating such long-assed book titles. *shrugging abashedly*).
Have been working on Bewitchments. Okay. That's not the truth. I've been unraveling my original (1st Draft) writing of the story because it wasn't reading what my heart had originally 'saw' as the story. Trevor was too smooth; Zoe was too sweet. Nope. Not what I wanted at all. But, then, I've admitted that my characters seem to drive me instead of the other way around, right?
And, it gets weirder. Because I've got Turner leaning over my shoulder, sweetly proclaiming his should be the next book. As said, I'm not that attracted to red-headed men but, DAMN, this one is too sexy for words. Sweet words whispered over a shoulder in the quiet hours when one is trying to write a different story. Oh, golly.
Okay, I double-dog dare you to try and keep your fingers on the keys without breathing heavy.
Yeah, that's what I thought!
Have heard from my girl Jazz about the reviews regarding Jax and Lace. You've heard that I'm still not comfortably reading them? I'm sorry that so many didn't like how Jax treated his girl when he hit the skids. My sincerest apologies for it. But, in truth and in my experience, that's the least of what you get to deal with when your man hits the drugs plus alcohol. They are not the person you knew or would even have chosen to be around if you'd had your choice. I know. Believe me. I know.
As for Miss Edie. Don't you love her? I do. I sure could have used her in my own life. Shoot, I want to BE her with my wonderful grandsons. Plain talk goes a long way, doesn't it?
After many requests, I'm going to post my song list for Everybody Falls, although its kind of a personal thing. I need music to inspire and provide the background for certain scenes. Don't hate me 'cause of the tunes, 'kay?
It was, yet another thing that Dex taught me. Damn, will I ever get over that man? Love him to flipping bits.
Smiling and waving into the scorch of the AZ afternoon,