I write this edition of The Writer Gal Letter listening to a track that’s dear to me - Actors by Still Parade. It was the song I listened to when I finished writing The End on Mason and Shruti’s story. And, believe me, there *were* tears!
I know I’ve been a bit quiet in sending you a mid-month update but there’s a good reason for it. My sinus, tendonitis, and a tummy bug decided to attack around the seventh, right when I was deep in Mason’s edits.
The weekend before Diwali was the worst I’ve experienced this whole year and, no kidding, I thought I had the Big C and was going to pass it on to mom, dad, and the grandparents!
Luckily, it was just my overactive Writer Gal imagination talking and it was a simple sinus infection that went away with the meds. (It’s been more than 14 days, I monitored me, peeps :P)
This mid-month collapse is the main reason Mason was pushed by a week! I needed time to recover and then get to work. It’s is also why I kept my head down and finished the edits first, uploaded the darned book, and THEN decided to come chat with you, my peeps.
So, the good news? Mason’s here TODAY! The even more good news? I’m sharing an exclusive HOT snippet from the book just for you, my Postmate.
It would mean the world to me if you added Engaged to your Goodreads pile! Here’s the button to do so, rn.
And now, the promised snippet!
Shruti moaned and tackled the buttons of his shirt with shaking sticky fingers. Sensations building inside her skin, her flesh, till every pore felt alight, alive with desire.
Everywhere he touched with the rough pads of his fingers, the curve of her butt, her thighs made her want him more.
Everywhere she touched him, his hard chest and the silken muscles of his back that rippled when she ran her nails over them made her want to do things to him she’d never dreamed possible.
He was big and hard and male in every way that counted, and desire, that insidious demon reared its roaring head and gripped her in inexorable talons.
This was the thing she’d been afraid of. Why she’d fought so hard with him, baiting him every chance she got. Keeping him away with barbs and sharp words.
Because, the second she’d seen him coming toward her with the single-minded determination of a thoroughbred at post time, she’d wanted him. Wanted him. With an ache and a hunger she had no name for.
And now, with every sliding friction of their bodies against each other, flames tindered up and down her skin till she was burning up.
Shruti shoved his jacket and shirt out of the way, tearing at the buttons. He shot her a hot impatient look that had the spit drying up in her mouth.
“That was Italian silk.” He spoke almost meditatively.
She deliberately ripped at one unraveling seam and had the incredible pleasure of actually seeing a man’s shirt fall into pieces because of the breadth of his shoulders. Her insides went liquid at the sight.
She reared up and bit the delectable part of his bicep. He made a sound, it might have been a groan or a curse, but all of a sudden his hands were everywhere.
Shruti and Mason have made me laugh - A LOT - and cry even more as I wrote the many, many things that kept them apart from their own personal happy ever after.
But, on this Thanksgiving Day, I’d like to share a warm, sweet hug with you, my Postmate, who make my Happy Ever After possible every time you read, review and talk about my books in the world.
Whatever I am is because of you, my reader friend.
I’ll see you super soon with the next edition of The Writer Gal Letter.
Till then, stay safe and awesome.