I don't know about you, but I don't do this often enough. There is always so much going on, my mind is always four hours/ days ahead, and even though I'm not at work outwith the house at the moment, there is never enough hours in the day. I go to bed, with lists, plots, and what have I forgotten? whirring through my mind. ARGH. Slow down, smell the roses ( Well if it wasn't raining so hard I can't reach the roses that would be easier.)
Why do we push ourselves so much? I keep muttering tortoise, hare, to myself. So it takes a bit longer to do something. So what? let's enjoy the view on the way. I live in a lovely part of the world, and it's only really when visitors arrive, I really look at the countryside and think WOW, Aren't I lucky.
And I am. Not just in where I live, but in so many other things. Family, friends, GETTING PUBLISHED.
Therefore, I have decided it's count my blessings time. So what if it is raining (Again... or should that be still?) We don't have a hosepipe ban (fat chance), a drought, or a famine. We have beautiful greenery, plentiful food, (And the downer even more midges). And great family and friends. Lucky indeed.
Now, I'd better get back to my WIP... I've left my heroine telling her fiance she doesn't want to be his wife, because mistresses have more fun...
Here's an excerpt.. (BEWARE THE LANGUAGE)
She would recognize those buttocks anywhere. Taut, tanned-such an unusual occurrence for a supposed gentleman-and at this moment trembling with the effort of pushing hard and, by the noises emitting from his companion, well into a willing body. A body, if her eyes, and her destination did not deceiver her, which was that of her seamstress.
Damn him. Has she not spent the best part of a twelvemonth, bribing and cajoling, to ensure whichever house party they graced, she would be placed in an adjoining room? Preferably in a corridor far distant from other guests. He may have been holding out on her until this moment, but any view she had caught of his body, either by accident or design, had increased her awareness, heightened her desire, and made her wet and willing. For what? To see him bollix deep in another woman.
Well, she told herself ruefully, as she quietly exited the room, (even though she doubted had the Household Cavalry charged through the room would they hear, so intense was their coupling,)you called without an appointment, therefore, you cannot moan. However, neither could she condone. She began to plot.