On this cool, dreary Wednesday morning I am finishing edits and plotting for my next book. My oldest daughter is an artist and her beautiful work amazes me. She has created my nest heroine, whether that was her intention or not. I wanted to introduce you to my next heroine… What name would you give her?
In the meantime, Urban’s Rush (#4, Saddles & Second Chances) will be releasing soon!
An unedited excerpt:
Urban Jericho parked his truck, turned off the engine and slid out of his truck, grabbing the rope from the bed before strolling into the clinic. The place was empty. Usually Cheryl welcomed him with a friendly smile and an offer of candy. “Hello?” No answer. He grabbed one of the mints from the bowl and popped it into his mouth.
Hearing voices, he peeked into Presley’s office. It was empty too. The voices were coming from the stables and he made his way through the private door, ignoring the sign that read, “Employees only”. Seeing Presley and Cheryl across the large space, he started to call out, but at the mention of marriage he stopped in his tracks.
Presley said, “I’ll have to find a husband, Cheryl. Someone who I can marry with no chance to fall in love with and then we’ll divorce.”
“You mean like a business deal?” Cheryl asked.
“That should be easy. I can’t even find a man who’s interested in taking off his clothes.” Cheryl snorted.
Presley bent back her head and laughed. He liked the melodic sound and the way several strands of hair had loosened from the messy bun and had fallen around her pale cheeks. Lowering his gaze, he could see the outline of her nipples through the wet T-shirt and his cock twitched. The last thing he needed was a hard on for a woman he couldn’t stand. Not one bit. Maybe just a bit, proof in the way his zipper stretched.
“I haven’t had sex in so long I’m beginning to think my parts are growing together.” Presley sighed. “At least I’ll get something from marriage.”
“Then maybe you should look for a man with a big di—”
At an early age, Rhonda fell in love with romance novels, knowing one day she’d write her own love story. Life took a short detour, but when the story ideas would no longer be contained, she decided to dive in and write. Her first rough draft was on a dirty napkin she found buried in her car. Eventually, she ran out of napkins. With baby on one hip and laptop on the other, she made a dream into reality—one word at a time.
Her specialty is men who love to get their hands dirty and women who are smart, strong and flawed. She loves writing about the everyday hero.
When Rhonda isn’t crafting sizzling manuscripts, you will find her busy editing novels, blogging, juggling kids and animals (too many to name), dreaming of a beach house and keeping romance alive. Oh, and drinking lots of coffee to keep up with her characters.
Rhonda’s Rowdy Readers Street Team