No, this isn’t a political post (though it could be . . .). Sorry to have been MIA but I’ve either been in my writing cave trying to force out words on my new project or in front of MSNBC watching the election unfold. I don’t know which has been more distracting except I’m ready to have Steve Kornacki’s love child for his vote graphing expertise. I don’t handle uncertainty well. I like a well-planned path with few if any bumps. Both of the above have held more suspense than my quarantine-brain can process. And such is the case for my heroine in this introduction to my new romantic suspense.
Willamina Redbone stepped cautiously to the edge of the porch, one hand on her shotgun, the other lifted to shade her eyes against the blistering glare of late afternoon going on evening. She squinted, trying to identify the lone horseman kicking up dust down her long drive. Just the way he sat the saddle told her more than she wanted to know. A low growl rumbled up from the motley-colored dog beside her. At her stern, “Sit. I’ll handle this,” he parked his rump but lost none of his aggressive tension.
She held her ground at the threshold of her home the way she would an anticipated battleline, jaw clenched because thoughts traitorously jumped to her appearance. With blonde hair wrestled back in an off-center hair band and lean form lost within a pair of dirty coveralls over a sweat-stained A-shirt, she looked far from ready to entertain. But a-body didn’t dress or smell their Sunday best after mucking stalls.
If Jimmy Redbone had expected a picture-perfect welcome home, he’d come to the wrong place.
Happy Weekend and Happy Writing, fellow Warriors!!
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