Bitterwood edits are done and sent back to Amber Allure and the lovely Karin Story. (That’s my editor. I haz an editor! And isn’t that a great name for an editor? Fills me with all kinds of hope!) The book is still on track for a September 25th release, because the folks at Amber, they are fast.
Today I got the second email regarding Kindred Hearts where someone was compelled to stop reading IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BOOK to write me and tell me how much they are enjoying it. This blows my mind (sorry, Sixties’ flashback). That someone is so moved by something I wrote just flabbergasts me.
Work proceeds apace on my niece’s christening gown; the bodice is embroidered and I’m working on the skirt embroidery. Time is fleeting and I need it done by the first weekend in October. IN THE MEANTIME, I’m trying to work on Turbulence, a sort of spin-off of Finding Zach (although there are no cameos planned for any of the major characters in that work); thinking about Going Like Elsie, my hermit/rock star romance; thinking about my straight Regency, A Lamb for Isabel; editing Angel Voices, a Christmas story that I need to submit, um, yesterday; and get some freelance editing done too. Oh, and finish my swag for GayRomLit and do a little thrift store browsing for Victoriana for my steampunk adventure.
And then there that little issue of the electric in my house going all wonky. I’ve lost a “leg” of the circuits or something like that, which basically boils down to the fact that my kitchen mostly doesn’t have power and I have industrial-strength extension cords snaking around my house. Ahh, the joys of homeownership.
Finally, I just ordered some Blue Stop for my fibromyalgia. Heidi Cullinan gave me some and it’s wonderful, especially for my hands, which hurt quite a lot, to the point where I can’t lean on them or rest my head on them, or anything like that. But I ran out and the weather is getting cooler, and that’s when the fibromyalgia kicks in. I got the two small jars so I can carry one in my purse and leave one at home. I have a feeling it will become like my Excedrin and my inhaler—one in every place I spend any time: car, office, bedroom. But if it takes the pain away, it will all be worthwhile!