Friday, November 28, 2014


Okay. I admit it. I am no domestic goddess. Besides not being overly concerned about a dusty shelf or a counter sprinkled with dirty dishes, I cringe as holidays approach, knowing that I owe it to my family to make an effort to decorate for the season. But, no matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to conjure my inner June Cleaver (except for soup art at which I excel). So when I walked in the front door the other day after work and discovered that a Christmas Wonderland had exploded in my house (courtesy of my holiday-loving husband)  I was ecstatic at the thought that I wouldn't have to spend my few free hours in the evening trying to find the perfect spot for the fourteen boxes of nutcrackers, Santas, snowmen, and angels we had lugged up from the basement the day before. My evenings could now be devoted to GETTIN' MY BETTE ON! No, I'm not talking about baking. (The only Christmas pumpkin pie smells you'll find here will be coming from the scented candles my husband placed in each room.) My BETTE is a writer, not a pie-maker. My BETTE is an idea-generator, not a cookie decorator. So, I'm writing. Developing story ideas. Searching out the perfect literary agents and publishing houses to query for my TIP TOP CAFE' series.

I'm also curious. How do you get your BETTE (replace my name with yours) on? I'd love to read your comments, which you can leave below (and while you're at it, I'd also love for you to follow my blog.)

Oh, I almost forgot. Here's another snippet from my current manuscript, MOONFLOWER ROAD. Enjoy!
Collin watched as Jeannie turned and rushed out of the kitchen. He was exhausted, but not too tired to notice the gentle sway and roll of her hips as she exited. He felt a familiar tug deep in his groin. Stop it, you fool! A damned woman’s the reason you ended up in Iowa in the first place!  That did it. Thinking about Annette was like throwing water on a fire. Not a pleasant feeling, but it produced the desired effect. He’d be armed and ready with those deflating thoughts and whip them out when the temptation became too great.
The bathroom ended up being a combination bathroom/laundry room. Figuring he could kill two birds with one stone, Collin ran a bath instead of opting for a shower. That way he could run his clothes through the washer while he bathed, which was an absolute necessity since what he wore was the only set of clothes he owned right at the moment. At least he had enough sense to figure that he probably couldn’t attempt a shower and run the washer at the same time without either getting scalded or getting a blast of cold water as the washer moved through its cycles.
Removing wet jeans was harder than Collin realized. After falling over twice, and ramming one knee on the corner of the counter, he finally succeeded by stepping on the bottom of one pant leg and yanking his leg out, then repeating the process with the other leg. Good thing Jeannie wasn’t witnessing this. She would have had a good laugh and never let him forget it. Only after peeling off every stitch of clothing, throwing them into the washer, and deciphering the instructions on how to run the damned thing, did Collin allow himself to slip into the glorious, hot water.  He leaned back and slid under, soaked his hair, then lathered up, and slid under again, running his hands through his hair to get out all the shampoo. Son of a... He looked down at his stinging hands. Blisters, ripped open from the repetitive movement of the scraper, dotted the palm of his right hand.  Sitting behind a desk for the last ten years had softened him up. His skin wasn’t used to this much manual labor. Well, he’d have to grin and bear it. They’d have time to heal up a bit after the bath. Plus, he could just wear gloves tomorrow.
After giving himself a scrubdown, he settled back into the tub and closed his eyes. He’d have time to rest just a bit before he would have to move his clothes from the washer to the dryer...
Collin’s eyes flew open. He was up to his nose in cold water in a bathtub in a strange bathroom. Bam-Bam-Bam! Someone was pounding at the door. Jeannie! He regained his senses, remembering where he was as he hauled himself out of the tub.
“I’m taking a bath!” He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist.
“You’ve been in there for almost two hours, and, might I remind you that this is the only working bathroom in the house?”
Two hours? I must have fallen asleep! Collin ran over to the washer, grabbed his clothes and tossed them into the dryer.
“I need to dry my clothes.”
“Just get dressed and get out of there, unless of course you want me to pee in the bushes.”
Collin held onto the towel with one hand, and opened the door with the other. Jeannie’s jaw dropped as her eyes flashed down to the towel. “Sorry, but the rest of my clothes were stolen out of my saddlebag.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, then grabbed the knob of the door and slammed it shut.
“Just wait. Don’t come out.”
Collin could hear her feet pad across the room, up the stairs and across the floor above him. It was quiet for about ten seconds, then the sound returned as she retraced her steps. Within a few seconds, she knocked quietly at the door.
“I have a robe you can borrow until your clothes dry.”
The door inched open and she stuck her hand through the opening. Collin peeked out to see that she had turned her head to the side. Her eyes were pinched shut. He smiled to himself. The naïveté and innocence of these Midwestern girls was so unlike anything he’d encountered in New York. This woman was actually flustered! He took the navy blue terrycloth, and she snatched her hand away.
“Just hurry, will you?”
Jeannie heard a click behind her. Within a few seconds, the door opened. She turned to see Collin standing in front of the door wearing Jason’s robe. It didn’t help. He might as well have been naked. She already knew what he looked like underneath—well, at least from the hips up, and what she had seen a few minutes ago had knocked the breath from her. His tanned torso and rippling abs had been forever etched into her mind, burned onto her retinas, and she could just imagine them under the robe...
“It’s all yours!”
Jeannie blinked, confused as she came out of her brief reverie. “What?”
Collin smiled. “The bathroom. You said you’d prefer the bathroom to the bushes.”
Jeannie’s face shot a blazing red once again. She knew why he was smiling. That smug, son of a bitch was getting a kick out of this…out of watching her ogle him like a star-struck teenager. She cleared her throat, lifted her chin, and brushed past him, trying to preserve some thread of near non-existent dignity.
“Right. It’s about time.”
Collin turned to face her, but she slammed the door and threw her back against it before he could say a word. She held her breath, waiting to hear retreating footsteps. Instead, she heard a low chuckle.
“You’re welcome.”
Jeannie squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment.
 Shit. What have I gotten myself into?

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