I am so close to being finished with Beyond the Norm I can taste it. Or something.
Anyway, my plan is to finish it this weekend and get it off to determine its fate in the publishing world. It feels like I have been working on Kyle and Dave's story forever, but of course I haven't. The books only going to end up somewhere around 23,000 words or so.
Hopefully life won't get in the way of my plans. I have Saturday free to do as I wish so it should be doable.
Current Song I'm Listening to Over and Over: Just My Imagination by The Temptations. Truly a beautiful, touching, heartbreaking song. But I don't know, does this make me too much like Ava March and I'm listening to old timer's music?
And here is a teaser for Car Wash:
Reaching into his back pocket, Kevin pulled out the pad of paper where he marked what washing packages the owners chose. He went to the head of the line and started taking care of customers. He didn’t even look up for several moments, having no idea the size of the line.
Jose, who stood near him ready to vacuum the interiors, whistled. “Caliente.”
Kevin glanced up from the pad. Just a couple cars away was a dark red Maserati. Kevin recalled seeing it in a magazine advertisement. He thought the name of that particular model was the GranTurismo. His jaw dropped. He swallowed heavily, unable to keep from staring, but not at the sleek, sexy speed demon. Rather his gaze was fixated on the hot as hell guy behind the wheel.
The god had dark wavy hair and he wore deep, dark shades. Sensuous, kissable lips. Kevin’s tongue slipped out and he ran it along his own lips, imagining what the other man’s mouth would feel like. Even though he was still a couple spots away, Kevin could see he wore a suit. Broad shoulders filled out that suit. He frowned. Damn, but there was something disturbingly familiar about the man.
Jose nudged him.
Kevin blinked out of his stupor and realized the woman in the sedan in front of him glared at him. “Sorry, ma’am.” He flashed the woman his don’t-you-just-think-I’m-adorable smile. “You wanted the standard wash, right?”
He wracked his brain, trying to think of why the Maserati guy looked familiar. Someone famous?
The Maserati finally pulled up to him. The man smiled. Oh, lord, the god had dimples.
“Yum,” Kevin said, before he could stop himself.
Mr. Maserati lowered the sunglasses. Dark, chocolate eyes framed by impossibly long lashes stared back at him. “Kevin? Kevin Flaherty?”
Michael Bennett. It couldn’t be. But it was.