The Music of the Night... Mine and Bailey and Derrick's ;O)

Maybe I'm an Angel/Buffy fan because I'm up all night like most of the characters in those shows...maybe too much cold medicine is my excuse for my ears ringing while I wrote last night...maybe I shouldn't have had All I Ask of You sung at my wedding...but late (or very early) in the morning hours last night, heavenly beings began singing the music of the night--because I finished the ugly first draft of AAF--and I didn't even stop to think how weird that was until this morning ;O)

I'm acutally about fifteen to twenty pages from the end, but that's the final scene and epilogue, which I never finish before I go back and do the rewrites I always have to do after discovering so much more about my characters and story as I draft write. So now, FINALLY (and those of you who've heard me teach about this know how much I love this part) it's finally time to dive into the revisions I've been denying myself, because if I started before now I'd never have finished the book.

And so, in celebration, I've included another sample from the book (All-American Father, for those of you who haven't been following along over the last month as I dwindle into deadline dementia). It's really my reward to myself, because otherwise I'd have to wait until April to hear what anyone besides my editor, agent and husband think of the story, and for all of my online friends, who've been putting up with more of me than I usually let slip into my blog posts.

To everyone who's hung on, I wish for you your very own musical night...it comes at the end of a long journey you weren't sure you'd complete, and brings with it the promise of the special dream you've held too close finally coming true, if you'd just let go long enough to believe it will come back.

Every book's like that for me...I might one day not be able to get to the end, but if I don't jump off the clif, I'll never know just how far I can go before I lose control... did I mention I didn't get much sleep last night?

Anyway, I promised a pic of Steve Burton from GH... Here 'tis. If this isn't enough to get some of you addicted to daytime TV again, I don't know what is...

Also, our very own Jan is a WritesUnlimited reviewer, and her take on The Prodigal's Return blew me away...take a peak...



http://www.writersunlimited.com/reviews4/the_prodigals_return.shtml

Heard some more good news over the last few days...my two 2005 RWA National workshops are among the top 24 Most Popular Workshops, according to the company that sells tapes of our presentations...gotta add that to my Website workshop page...not to mention to my proposals for future events ;O)

And, finally, the excerpt so many of you have asked for.

I'm not going all the way back to the beginning of All-American Father this time (though if you want to read teasers of the first few scenes, check out past posts from July 19th and August 4th). Let's catch up with Bailey and Derrick once they realize resistence is futile and surrender to their love scene:

Somewhere toward the end of All-American Father
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...Bailey arched into Derrick's touch, shedding more of her doubts and inhibitions with each caress she returned, each gasp of pleasure that echoed his gruff murmurs and the groans he couldn't quite hold back.

Wherever Derrick touched, she felt alive. Wherever he looked, she felt radiant. Beautiful. Amazing. And bolder, as she tried to show him, and herself, what she needed. What she'd always needed. To be free and alive. To let go and risk everything for her dream.

And right now her dream was Derrick.

Her hair curled madly across her shoulders as she pushed him to his back and straddled his hips. Her fingers gripped the corded muscles in his upper arms as his worshiped her breasts, giving her more pleasure in one simple touch than any man ever had. He was a hero. A god. Everything any woman could want. And he was completely focused on her. As overwhelmed as she was. Pulling her head down and kissing her as if he'd starve without another taste.

And then, his gaze locked with hers, he was there. Deep inside her. Filling her, overwhelming her with the beauty of it, a split second before they both went wild and there was nothing left but a sweet, rough race to give more. Take more. Share everything their bodies knew how to say better than their voices ever could. Then when the crash came, when she couldn't hold herself above him a moment longer, his arms caught safely to her to him, even as he turned, trapping her beneath him as he continued to drive her to distraction.

There was no soft landing. No gentle slide back to reality. Not with Derrick. The determined glint in his eye said the man wasn't anywhere near finished.

"Stay with me." He interlaced their fingers and drew her hands over her head. "Don't slip away. Not yet. I can't let you go yet."

His pace quickened, and she had no choice but to follow. Her body shot from the misty plateau of completion to the fiery edges of razor-sharp passion so fast, she cried out. Strained to free her hands so she could hold him. Soothe him. Stop what was happening before it was too late and there was no going back.

He let her go, but only to slide his hands beneath her, to pull her more tightly against him.

"Derrick!" In the moonlit shadows of her bedroom, his gorgeous face had hardened with desire. Need. The same desperation she was afraid to let rule her.

"Stay with me." His rough command was also a plea, and just like in everything else, she didn't know how to say no to him...