Series, and my muse.
Yeah, okay I have a book out today, but I didn’t know it when I picked this date to post. So you’re going to sort of get two for one.
Series…what do you think?
Do you love them or hate them? Should each book be a stand alone, even if it is in a series?
If it is a series, should all the books be read in order, and only lie that so as not to spoil anything?
Can you call a set of books interlinked by some of the characters a series or not?
And do you even like revisiting ‘old’ characters, even when they’re not the current hero and heroine.
I know questions, questions and you haven’t had your coffee yet!
Here you go.
Is that better? I hope so.
Now, where was I?
Oh yes, series.
I seem to be writing three sorts of series.
One, where there is a theme running through them and whereas I think you can read them as a stand alone, you find out ‘the answer’ at the end of the last book. One where some of the characters pop up again, but the book is a stand alone, and one where the series title is the only common thread, and apart from that the books are definitely stand alones.
My muse told me to.
Actually, I’ve discovered I personally enjoy writing and reading all three, even if to differing degrees.
Each satisfies me in a different way.
Sometimes I want to read—and write—a series of books and find out, ‘the secret’ or whatever at the end. Another time, I want to revisit old friends, see how they’re getting on, and meet new people as well. And yes, on other occasions it’s nice just to see there is a common theme between the books.
I was trying in my muddled way to explain this to a friend who nodded very sagely and said ‘yeah, like doughnuts.”
Luckily she went on to add. ‘You know some are variants of doughnuts with jam in it. Just not the same jam. Some are exactly the same texture and taste but a different shape, and some are totally different but are called doughnuts. Oh and sometimes there’s an unknown taste and you find out what it is eventually.’
I think she got it spot on.
I then started to snigger. I write doughnuts.
I’m in the middle of a doughnut at the moment. Actually a fair few doughnuts, and yes, I am careful not to get a sugar overload. Well with a sadistic Dom like Alex in this book, Secrets Learned, book 5 of Diomhair, that’s so not likely. This is a find out that taste eventually one. You can read each book in whatever way you want, but of course it’s better to read them in order. There is one tiny ‘oh, what is it?’ that runs through them, and you will find out what it is at the end of the next book.
The book that comes out on Friday, The Racing Driver’s Wife, is one of the jam variants I reckon. It’s in a new series called ‘Their Wives’, along with The Rock Star’s Wife, but the only link is the fact that the heroine is a wife. Great fun though, and there are a few more simmering in my murky mind. My muse is certain of that.
What sort of doughnut do you prefer?
And of course, yes, sorry, I’ve got to give myself a wee toot.
The Racing Driver’s Wife…
Some risks are worth taking…
Racing driver Gael Lorenzo is used to taking his life in his hands, if only he could say the same for his errant wife. He meant his wedding vows, and there will never be another woman for him, but what can he do to win her back?
Darcy thought she knew the risks of being married to a man who lives for his sport. The reality of the race track, however, proves too much for her. Nevertheless, giving Gael up entirely, is not an option either.
When circumstances force them back into each other’s company, neither one of them can let this chance go. Together they are stronger than apart, and their marriage is worth fighting for, isn’t it?
And a wee tease…
“I don’t do massages these days, except for a favoured few. Yeah, I’ll let you be one. But after that stunt on T.V. do you trust me not to give you even more pain? Or give you a nice bruise that looks like someone has taken a paddle to you?”
Gael paled and then laughed, somewhat shakily. “Hell, good joke. Well, I hope it’s a joke.”
Darcy grinned and knew fine well it was a both wicked and evil look. “You’ll have to risk it, won’t you? But then that’s your life, taking risks.”
“No.” Gael spoke in a serious voice. “My life is making sure I do not take risks. On this occasion, I will however put my life—well my body—in your hands.”
Darcy sniggered. Gael in this mood was irresistible. Not that she intended to let him know that. “Okay, give me a few minutes to find the oils. I’ve got about an hour and then I’m gone.” And so are you, she hoped her tone informed him. “If you want to cool down, there’s a tap over by the rose bush.”
He looked startled, and then smiled. “Ah cara, I thought you would do that small task. However if you say so…”
As she watched in amazement, he put his still full glass of wine down onto the slabbed patio and walked towards the tap. Once there he gripped the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head. His long tanned back called to her in the most primitive way possible, and Darcy’s mouth became dry. The sexual tension was very much alive and kicking.
“Here, catch.” He threw the top in her direction. Darcy put her hands up automatically and to her and she guessed his surprise, she caught it as it stroked her cheek. It smelled of him. Citrus, vanilla, and Gael. He must still use the same Jo Malone cologne she introduced him to all those years ago.
Memories bombarded her and she shook her head to shake them away. “If you grab a chair from the kitchen I’ll go and get my oils.” She didn’t wait to see if he answered but walked briskly indoors and fetched the small case she used to keep all her masseuse supplies in, and took a towel from the pile of dry washing on the table. It was easier to think about a massage than anything else, surely?
Ten minutes later, she wasn’t so sure. Plus, she had no idea why she brushed her hair, rubbed blush over her cheeks, added eyeliner and lippy, and sprayed on her favourite Jo Malone perfume.
When she got back to the garden Gael had taken one of the ladder back chairs from the kitchen, set it on the flags and straddled it so his arms rested on the rim of the back, and his chin on top. He faced away from her, toward the lawn and the vegetable garden beyond it, and seemed deep in thought.
The sun shone on his skin and the leaves from the nearby trees created dappled shadows that stippled erotic patterns over his back. As beautiful and thought provoking as they seemed, they were going to make it hard to make sure she got every knot and kink out of him.
Knot and kink? The thoughts those words created were definitely ‘x’ rated.
Enjoy your doughnut,
Love R x