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March 22nd, 2008
Black Silk

It’s spring, which means that life in general is falling apart.

I’m in the midst of revisions, and rushing out some copy edits, in addition to preparing for RT, and clearing off a big report for the day job, so I’m not thinking too clearly right now. There have been times in the last few days when I’ve been a little uncertain what my own name is. And telemarketers beware. I’m not even trying to politely weasel out of your calls. You may just suddenly hear a dial tone if you call me.

I’m sure many of you out there are in the same boat. So much to do. No time.

Of course, Happy Easter to everyone who is celebrating, visiting family, eating chocolate, praying for spring (or actually enjoying it if you are seeing grass beneath the snow). We have about six feet of snow in the back yard. And it’s staying cold.

BLACK SILK releases this month. Actually in about 4 days, I think. I’m excited to see it coming out, and have been taking little sneak reads and enjoying myself thoroughly. When a book is done and ready to go out there, it always feels that it simply appeared by some mystical force and not months of pounding the keyboard. All the blood, sweat, and tears that got it there is long forgotten, and I’m just wrapped up in the joy of having a real book in my hands.

Since I can barely think tonight, I’m going to cheat and include a little excerpt from BLACK SILK. I’ve posted quite a few excerpts of late, but I really am incapable of brilliant thought right now, so I do hope you enjoy:

“I didn’t like Mrs. Master’s salon,” she whispered, “before I found you there. There were eight men, and it was all very horrid.”

He grasped her wrist. “Eight! You didn’t tell me about this. Did they hurt you?”

“No!” Maryanne remembered to drop her voice. “A courtesan exposed her breasts, shoved me out of the way, and distracted them.”

“Thank the lord for that. And all this talk of crowded beds is making me hunger for our bed.” He adjusted his trousers. “We could slip off behind a grove of trees—”

“We can’t make love out here. It’s freezing!” Maryanne cried.

A boyishly beseeching look lit up his eyes. “We would heat up quickly.”

“It’s fine for you,” she protested. “You only need one part of your body, and you’ll be sliding that into warmth.”

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