Hey there! It’s the first Wednesday of the month, which is when I share an excerpt of a work in progress and invite you to do the same. It’s usually stuff that’s too raw for critique, so we don’t do that in the comments, but a friendly word is always welcome.

Last month I told you that I’d been in a dry spell because of things going on at work. I work full-time, and while I never want that to be an excuse as a writer, it can be a challenge. I’m happy to say that in March and added about 9,000 words to book two of my paranormal romance trilogy. I also wrote another intense scene for book three that I really obsessed over.

This is a scene from book two, The Equinox Stone! Tristan is suffering from amnesia and psychic damage, and Val is an empath and mage who helped repair his psyche when it was fracturing. She’s been ordered to stick close to him in case it happens again, and Tristan convinced her to share the same bed with him — platonically. By the way, the stock photo I chose for this post isn’t quite right, because Val is much plumper than that lady. But I figured it would have to do.

This has somewhat adult content, but nothing really happens!





Val woke up very warm. Someone was holding her. What in the world—

It all flooded back to her. Tristan. One of his strong arms wrapped around her, hugging her close, her back against his broad chest. The stubble on his cheek grazed the back of her neck, and his even, deep breaths stirred and tickled her hair.

She’d been sleeping in her usual half-curled position, with her bare legs bent at the knees. His legs, in sweat pants, nestled against them, his thighs against the back of her thighs, his hips fitted against hers.

Oh, Goddess. The bulge of his unconscious arousal pressed against her backside.

This was nothing. It was normal. It happened to guys in their sleep—didn’t it?

Her mind veered back to his memory at Caverns of Sonora. He’d glimpsed down at his tattoo, and she’s seen his naked body, just for an instant. She imagined taking a longer look, running her hands over his bare skin…

She was reverting back to a hormonal teenager again. That couldn’t be good. She should get up. But that would wake him, and he probably needed more rest. His emotional signature hummed in faint, steady contentment: a sleep without dreams.


Capitán Renaud’s loud voice jolted her out of her comfort. She extricated herself from Tristan’s embrace and sat up, touching the heel of her hand to her chest in an automatic salute. Behind her, Tristan stirred with a grunt.

Capitán clasped his hands behind his back. “Any more disturbances?”

“No.” Heat rushed into her cheeks.

Tristan gave an easy laugh, threw off the covers, and got up. “Morning. Be right back.” She hazarded a glance at him as he sauntered to the adjoining bathroom. His erection showed plainly through the gray sweat pants. He didn’t appear to care, which was exactly what she would have expected from him.

Capitán lifted an eyebrow as the door closed behind Tristan. “Vega, your job is to make sure his psyche doesn’t fracture again. You’re not required to be his stuffed animal.”

It wasn’t the most flattering description of her, but maybe it was apt. Anyway, it made things simple. Capitán disapproved of any involvement, and she would keep her distance. “Yes, sir.”

“It’s your choice.” Well, that wasn’t so simple, after all.




Okay, it’s your turn! Share a paragraph or a page in the comments below (nothing hotter than my excerpt, though, please.) Or if you like, tell us what you’re working on and how it’s going, or just say hi. And if you want to make sure you don’t miss future WIP Wednesdays, follow the blog, if you aren’t already — you can sign up below. Thanks for stopping by!