I’m spending my Labor Day writing as much as possible. I’ve latched onto a new idea and I like it, finally, so I’m going with it. I’ve wanted to write a pirate love story for some time now, and I think I’ve finally found one. I had to rename the main character last night, because I realized he was not a Roger. He needed a good solid seafaring name, but I settled on Colin, which seems to suit him and also celebrates the fact that Colin Firth, one of my favorite actors, will be filming a new movie in North Carolina soon.

So instead of a real post today, I’m going to give you a taste of my most recently published labor of love, WINTER SOLSTICE, which is all about love in the workplace:

At the end of the day, she stopped by the admissions desk to catch her breath and talk to Amy, a critical-care nurse. John approached and reached around her to drop a chart on the desk, his fleeting proximity making it difficult for Becky to breathe.

“That’s it for me. I’m out of here.” He started to turn away then paused, and his gaze met Becky’s. “I’ll be home later if you want to call me about those questions you had.”

She felt her face burn and ducked her head, hoping to hide her arousal if not her embarrassment. “Of course. I’ll do that.” She made some quick notes on her paper and when she glanced up, he was long gone, but Amy looked at her with a mixture of pity and commiseration. “You’ve got it pretty bad, huh?”

Becky hesitated, wondering if plausible deniability was still possible, but Amy shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, hon. We’ve all been there. I mean, he’s got everything going for him. He’s rich, a doctor, intelligent, and we won’t even mention S-E-X-Y. Just don’t lose your heart. He might be an eligible bachelor, but he’s also a confirmed one.”

“No worries.” Becky laughed and tossed her head, but she wondered if she fooled Amy anymore than she fooled herself.

The truth was she really didn’t know where she and John stood with each other. His continued professionalism at work did nothing to help her find her footing. If he’d grabbed her when she walked in the door and kissed her in front of everyone, or dragged her into his office and torn her clothes off, or even if he’d just asked her out for drinks again, she’d have some clue. Instead, he invited her to call him.

She groaned inwardly. She’d never expected to find herself so out of control, and in spite of her misgivings, she had every intention of accepting his invitation and probably repeating the
previous night’s performance.