This beats ironing anyday

I really wasn't going to post today. I was going to be good, and do some housework. Now housework and me are like chalk and cheese... never should we meet, not even be on nodding turns.


However as I actually don't like living in a total guddle, or certainly don't want to live in a house like a midden, I do clean! When necessary.


So I was up early, vacuumed, brought some logs in ( DH job, but he's away, and not back til later today... I lie, he got home early. Glad I didn't muck the ash out of the hearth now... ) I even did some of the dreaded ironing.


 Then it was my time.


Lucky to Live in this glorious part of the word, I went for a walk in the forest with a friends and her dogs. It was beautiful, and strangely, not raining. In fact we had that rarely seen golden glow in the sky. It really puts me in a great mood when the sun is shining. I came back full of the joys of spring, made a coffee and wrote.


I'd asked on a the Breathless Press Page yesterday if the weather affects what we, as writers, put into our stories? I know it does mine. A hot sunny day, wherever I am, sets my mood to hot and the writing tends to follow the heat. If it's raining, pity the poor character who's life will reflect my gah it's horrible mood.
 One of my (I think) best sex scenes was written on a balcony of a plantation house in beautiful St Kitts, early one morning as I watched the sun come up, and the moneys play in the trees close by. This is where In The Recess Of Her Soul was conceived, and Saffaul, Sael's homeland was certainly inspired by that amazing island, along with my homeland. 


And I have a series based on that plantation house in the offing!


It's not just my writing muse that's affected by the weather either. What I cook, what I wear (natch) and whether I write in t-shirt and shorts or Uggs and fleece. 


I'm hoping for a lot of sun ( well If you don't have hope what do you have?) soon, and then one almighty thunderstorm. That will work perfectly with my muse!


And for those who are now going Duh? Saffaul?  Here's a bit from that book, which has  just been released by www.nobleromance.com

"Keys." He held out his hand. To his surprise, she handed him the car keys, walked to the passenger side, and threw her bags onto the back seat.

"Take your thong off," he commanded as he watched her settle herself. "What?" Livvy looked at him as if she hadn't heard him properly. "You heard. Take your thong off. Before I rip it off." "Why?"

He didn't think she sounded pissed, merely curious.

"I could say it's because of the shitty day you've put me through, but I won't use that as an excuse." He paused and stared, watching as her hands moved to the hem of her flirty little skirt. "I want to see you make yourself come, hear those delicious little moans and sighs you make as you start to come. And hear you roar and sob as you make yourself go over the edge. But"—he started the engine and drove out of the car park—"you're not going to come until I tell you."

"Oh, yeah? Says who?"

Damn, she was really trying his patience. His fangs ran out, and his incisors began to show.

"I do, and unless you want a red ass to go with your red pussy, get that thong off, and get your fingers working." He roared, and not because he was coming, either. Sometimes, she just didn't know when to stop. "So, the choice is yours."

"Some choice," she muttered.

As he slowed for a corner, he glanced over and saw her pulling that black, sexy, lacy scrap down her legs.

"Give it here." He held a hand out. "Why?" "Just bloody well do as I say for once without arguing, Livvy. On Wednesday,

we need to be together, no whys or says whom. I say, and we do. That's the end of it."

He plucked the lace from her and kissed it, taking in her scent, watching her eyes widen. Ah, it was all her, pure Livvy. Satisfied, he shoved the thong in his top pocket."Start," he commanded. "Talk me through. Don't argue, sass me, or come up with stupid excuses. Just do it."

"Are you ready for this, Sael? Don't crash my car or take your eyes off the road. How would you like to explain we ended up in a ditch because the sounds of me fingering myself turned you on so much you lost concentration?" She was purring. Purring, for the Devil's sake—he hoped.

"Oh, that won't happen." Swiftly, he turned the car into a layby. "Because you're going to come here. Outside."

He switched the engine off, got out, opened her door, undid her seat belt, and took her arm.

"Come on."