OMG there’s only two and a half weeks until we leave for the U.S.!!!    It’s getting real, folks. And I still have so much to do!  BUT, it does look like my next release, The Weight Of It All will be released before I go.  Yay!!

JSYK, there won’t be pre-orders for The Weight Of It All.  And chances are there won’t be a blog tour, unless I can pull one together at the last minute. It also means there won’t be my usual new release gift card giveaway etc because I’ll be in transit and can’t guarantee I’ll be able to send the Amazon gift card or even ebook prizes on time.  So, it’s probably going to be a low-key release, but at least the book will be out before I leave.  Waiting until early November would have killed me LOL.

So, this week, I’ve done one round of edits, and my lovely editor said she’s never laughed so much while editing!  🙂   Glad it’s not just me who thinks Henry is adorable.  <3

I have also sent Red Dirt Heart 2 to be narrated!   Hopefully it will be out toward the end of November.  So, yay for that! <3

Next week, I have appointments and RL stuff to do, including accountant/taxes stuff which I hate LOL.  Though I will also be doing the final edits for The Weight Of It All and sending it off to my lovely proofreaders. I also have to plan and fit in a quick trip to Sydney in the next two weeks. So it’s busy busy busy times, as per usual for me.

I also have two different sets of characters in my head at the moment. As usual, my characters don’t waste much time in wanting their story told, but normally they wait their turn. I can’t decide which story to start first. Neither one is yelling at me to be done first, and neither one is strictly romance…  And after writing The Weight Of It All, which was all romance and LOLs, I’m hesitant to jump into an angsty drama or crime/mystery.  One is a drama, stand alone novel, the other is a crime series, and while they will have hints of romance, it’s not the driving plot.  Both will require research, and time.  And let me tell you, writing fluffy romance is so much easier.  BUT my characters are usually stubborn and get what they want in the end. I will write them at some point, of that there is no doubt.

Given I’ll be traveling and will be too busy doing touristy things to get much writing done, I might work on a light and fluffy Christmas story, and leave diving into something meatier until I get back from GRL.

If my brain, and the characters in it, keep to that plan is anyone’s guess.  😉

To finish up this week’s post, I thought a little excerpt of The Weight Of It All might be in order.

EXCERPT:

The next morning I was just as sore, if not a little sorer than the day before. But I was determined, and like a sucker for punishment, I dragged my sorry arse to the gym. I arrived with two minutes to spare, and Reed’s whole face broke out into a smile when he saw me.

“Glad you made it.”

“I’m sore as hell. Please make it stop.”

“Okay,” he said with a chuckle. “Come this way.”

I followed him over to the far corner where there were mats on the floor. He said goodbyes to the people who were just finishing up and leaving, sweaty and smiling. It was pretty clear everyone liked him. He was just that type of guy. Not like me, I was socially awkward, said things that were cringe worthy at best. Like now…

“G’day,” one fit looking guy said to me as he walked past.

“Good thanks.”

It wasn’t until he was a metre or two behind me that I’d realised what I’d said. I just shook my head, like the socially inept idiot I was, and kept walking.

When we’d reached the corner, Reed stopped and turned to face me. “So, where hurts the most?”

“Everywhere.”

“Legs? Arms? Chest?”

“Yes.”

Reed smiled. “Okay then, sit down for me.”

“Sitting down is fine. It’s the getting up that bites.”

Reed planted himself easily, gracefully, despite his size, on the ground. “Legs spread comfortably.”

I lowered myself to the floor, trying to keep the grimace and yelp to a minimum. “Jesus. And this is normal?”

Reed nodded. “Take a deep breath, keep your chest up straight.”

I did that and didn’t die, so I relaxed a little.

“Now stretch forward and grab your ankles.” He folded himself in half and held his feet with no trouble. I could barely reach past my knees. “Knees are fine.”

“Ow.”

He nodded encouragingly. “Hold it for twenty seconds.”

Ugh. “I’m so unfit.”

“But you’re here.”

I nodded and breathed through the stretch and burn in my hamstrings, but by the end of the twenty seconds, I was grabbing my calf muscles. At this point, I’d take any advance I could get. Then he had me stretch arms and shoulders, then my lower back. It probably took fifteen minutes, and I felt like I’d already done a workout session.

He leapt to his feet with the agility of a cat, then extended his hand to me. His hand was warm and calloused, which I had to admit, felt nice. I wasn’t used to rough hands. Graham’s hands were soft, like mine…

“So, we’ll start on the treadmill to get the blood pumping.” He obviously read the trepidation on my face. “Just slow, nothing strenuous.”

I took a deep breath and stepped onto the machine. Once I started walking, Reed seemed to sigh in relief. “Perfect,” he said.

He left me to it for a few minutes, and truthfully, it wasn’t that hard. It was just hard on already-sore muscles. When that was done, I did equal time on the elliptical StairMaster, cardio-killing machine. It wasn’t overly strenuous, but I could feel every muscle burn. After quite possibly the longest five minutes of my life, I stepped back off the machine, wiped my face down with my towel, and took a sip of water, trying not to die.

“How you feeling?” Reed asked.

“Like I’ve been set on fire, thanks for asking.”

He just grinned and clapped his hands together enthusiastically. “Time for strength and core conditioning.”

“I’m sorry, was that full strength coffee and air conditioning?”

He laughed, and his eyes shone bright blue. “Oh, you crack me up.” Then he led me over to the weights. “The weight and pulley machine is good, but it might not always be available,” he said. “Some days you might need to use free weights.” He handed me two five kilo dumbbells, he picked up some for himself, and together we did a range of exercises like tricep extensions, lateral raises, and hammer curls. He called it body strength exercises. I called it brutality.

He put his weights down. “Okay, now get down on the floor for me.”

I collapsed in a panting, sweating, aching heap. “Thank God.”

Then he made me do cruel, cruel things like leg lifts, leg holds, bridges, and planking. And to finish, we did torso twists and sit ups. I mean I only did about thirty seconds of each, but good fucking Lord! And I signed up for this shit?

After he’d made sure I’d stretched properly and that I could still breathe and wasn’t going to drop dead, he held his hand out to me where I was now lying flat on my back for a high-five. It was an effort to even lift my hand up to reach his, but I did it.

“Would you mind terribly if I just died here for a little while?”

He grinned. “Nope, no dying today.” He held his hand to me and pulled me to my feet without any effort. “You did great today.”

“Can we go back to blinking? One for yes, two for no. My eyelids are about the only thing that still works.”

He blinked once for yes.

I laughed and let my head fall forward, a mix of exhaustion and relief that my second official training session was finished.

“You did real good today, Henry.” He spoke to me―and to all his clients, I presumed―like I was the only person in the room. “For the next two days, do some gentle walking, gentle stretches. Give your body a rest, but try not to be still for too long. And I’ll see you on Sunday at eight o’clock, yeah?”

I nodded. “Yep. If I’m not dead.”

“I’ll text you tomorrow to see how you’re getting on. Is that okay?”

“Sure. But isn’t tomorrow your day off?”

Reed nodded. “Yep. I have Wednesdays and Fridays off. But I don’t mind.” He perked up and gave a mock salute. “It’s my duty as your personal trainer.”

I found myself smiling at him. “Sure. I better get going. I gotta go home and get showered and into work by nine.”

Reed looked at his watch. “Shoot. It’s eight o’clock now.”

“Ten minutes to home, twenty minutes to shower and shave, and fifteen minutes to drive to work. Believe me, the longest part will be the walk from the elevator to my desk.” I did my best rusted Tin Man impersonation, though I wasn’t acting, and walked/shuffled out of the gym.

And by the time I fell into my office chair, the familiar, yet still surprising at every turn, muscle pain mowed me down again.

<3

That’s it for this post, folks. Until next week…