Excerpt:
By the time they reached the stables, the rain had turned into a deluge, soaking them to the bone. Adam swung the door shut behind them, breathless, the wet strands of his hair plastered to his forehead. Water streamed from his clothes, his shirt clinging tightly to his chest and arms.
Leah leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath, her laughter breaking through the steady drum of rain on the roof. “You’d think between the two of us, we’d know when a storm’s coming by now.” she teased, her voice light despite the tension still thrumming between them.
Adam didn’t respond at first. His hands moved to his soaked shirt, and in one fluid motion, he pulled it over his head, tossing it across a beam to dry. Leah’s laughter faltered, her breath catching as she took in the sight of him—bronzed skin glistening from the rain, every line of his muscled chest and arms a testament to years of hard, honest labor. She could see the curve of his collarbone, the way his skin stretched over the strong lines of his shoulders and felt her pulse race.
Leah couldn’t tear her eyes away, her breath catching in her throat as she tried to focus on wringing out her dress. But the sight of him, standing there with the storm raging outside, felt like more than she could bear. There was something unspoken between them now, something that had lingered far too long in the shadows.
“We look a sight,” she said, trying to inject a note of humor, but her heart was racing, not from the run, but from the nearness of him.
His green eyes fell on her form, tracing every line and curve. The way her dress clung to her, molded against her shape, made his pulse quicken, a fire sparking low in his belly. Every inch of her felt like a temptation—her damp curls framing her face, her skin flushed from the run, her eyes bright with the thrill of the storm. The air was thick, charged with everything he’d held back for so long, every glance he’d forced himself to look away from, every touch he’d denied.
He took a deep, shuddering breath, his jaw clenching as he tore his gaze away. The war between what he wanted and what he believed was right had never felt so brutal.
Leah looked up then, catching him staring, her lips parting slightly, her gaze softening as she held his. The vulnerability in her eyes made his heart clench, and he felt his resolve waver. The space between them felt charged, heavy with all the things he could never say aloud. The heat of her gaze, the gentle slope of her shoulders, the way her body moved as she wrung the water from her hair—all of it burned into him, branding him with a need he could scarcely contain.
1. What literary
pilgrimages have you gone on?
None yet though I
do plan to go to London next year to see where so many of my favorite romance
authors placed and wrote about. I can’t wait to see in person the streets and
cities described that so many of characters I fell in love with roamed and
lived.
2. What is the first book that made you cry?
I think it was Once
and Always by Judith McNaught, my favorite romance author of all time.
3. Does writing energize or exhaust you?
It can easily do
both. But mostly energize. When I get
going I feel like I cant stop and will write in the late hours of the night.
4. What is your
writing Kryptonite?
Another thought
bubble or idea per se for another book. I will start writing character traits backstreet
extra and then another and another will come and I will have spent weeks nit
focusing on the story I was writing before.
5. Did you ever consider writing under a pseudonym?
Yes, and I do. I
took the first initial of my middle name, along with my maiden name to give you
D. Taylor.
6. What other authors are you friends with, and how do they help you become a
better
writer?
I took over twelve
year break from writing my first book to my second. So sadly not many. However
I’m rejoining the literary world and meeting so many authors that I’m
optimistic if I’m asked this question in a few months the answer would be
different. For now, I do offer
encouragement and advice to any and all who seek it from me in the groups I’ve
joined.
7. Do you want each book to stand on its own, or are you trying to build a body
of
work with connections between each book?
I want both. I
write and then I fall in love with secondary charactersand think what is their
love story. Would anyone else want to know? Yet if I’m blessed enough to have a
reader pick up one of my books. I’d like it to be fulling on its own as well.
8. What authors
did you dislike at first but grew into?
Stephen King. I
didn’t get it. Thought his books were wordy and drawn out, but then I read It.
The rest is history he may be my favorite write of all now.
9. What’s your favorite under-appreciated novel?
I would say the
book I’m thinking is under appreciated in my circle. And the book is. I Know
Why The Caged Bird Sings. Who knows one day that might change with my family
and friends like I changed my mind on Stephen King.
10. As a writer, what would you choose as your mascot/avatar/spirit animal?
11. How many unpublished and half-finished books do you have?
I have four, and
out of that total I hope to complete two in the coming months.
12. What did you edit out of this book?
So, so much! But to
not draw things so far out a lot just had to go.
13. If you didn’t write, what would you do for work?
I work now for the
State! I write for joy because I like telling stories that I find intriguing or
I think there genre is laking a lot of content
14. Do you hide
any secrets in your books that only a few people will find?
No, well at least
not yet. But I love it when others do and you find that little Easter egg. It’s
like a reward.
15. What is your favorite childhood book?
Fantastic Mr. Fox.
I read it over twenty times in fourth grade. I own it today? What’s funny is my
kids are not big fans.
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