Finding Time to Write
Like everyone, I have a busy schedule: school, work, family and friends, date nights with my husband and, oh, yeah, the dog needs a walk. I’m often asked, “When do you have time to write?”
Well, the answer is never. I never flat have the time to just sit and write. I find the time: between classes, on my break lunch break at work, etc. I do most of my writing late at night, when the house is quiet, with my sweet and cuddly cocker spaniel, Kelly, at my side (normally passed out).
I wrote Caressed by Night (Rulers of Darkness #2) much in this way, using my chronic insomnia to my advantage and furthering my love/addiction to coffee. It is at this time of the day that I am able to let my imagination run wild, my characters take control and my fingers skim across the keys of my laptop. I really wish I had more time to dedicate to my writing. I would love to produce a book every few months versus one a year. Alas, life is life and it has a tendency to get in the way of our plans, which is something both of my main characters of Caressed by Night learn.
Dimitri Arsov has come to Las Vegas for two reasons. First, to find his mate and second, to finally exact revenge on the traitorous vampire that tried to kill him 400 years ago, but hate has other plans.
Kerstyn Ingmar had her future mapped out, just like any other recent doctoral graduate. She was going to move to New York and live her dream, working in a museum. Her plans come tumbling down the night she is rescue by a startling handsome stranger.
Caressed by Night Excerpt
“You’ve healed,” she whispered. Her voice was rough and her throat ached from her screams. “Your wounds are gone. That…that is impossible.”
“Not for me.”
Her eyes narrowed, “What are you?”
He dropped his head. Why now? Why did it have to happen this way? He cursed, damning Fate for the tricks she played. He hadn’t wanted it to happen this way. He wanted them to take their time, to get to know one another before he shared his secret with her. Now he was cornered. He had to tell her or―no. He would not erase her memory; he could not disrespect her that way. He would not take the coward’s way out. He had to tell her.
His heart clenched. What if she rejected him? What if she hated him? What if he repulsed her? She was his mate, but that was no guarantee that she would understand, that she would stay with him or that she would love him.
“What are you?” she demanded again, her voice shaking.
Her thoughts screamed at him. Vampire. Vampire. Vampire! He forced his gift aside, shoving it back into the darkness of his mind.
“I think you already know,” he said before pulling his shirt closed.
“No,” she squeaked.
“It is the truth.” He did up the remaining buttons of his jacket. “And I am proof,” he finished, swinging his arms wide.
She licked her lips as her eyes once again fell to the ground. “I kissed a vampire,” she whispered to herself. She had made out with a vampire and she had loved every second of it.