I’m Gonna Call It: Boxing Days

It rained, yay! Just enough to drive the humidity sky high and my energy level into the pits.

What better time to tackle another box set, this time it’s The Ranch to Market Chronicles. I’m slogging through edits, because there are typos the gremlins deposited at some point in time, stuff everyone who has set eyes on these documents missed. It happens.

Today I’m on Book 2, Alpha Framed. Came across this section I particularly liked…

Tommy still wasn’t talking to me. At me… maybe. Around… certainly. Toss in reluctantly with a Molotov cocktail on top, and it made for an atmosphere dripping with fuck you, Coy Carruthers. That last bit I was down with. It’d been forever and a day since I’d been invited to partake of the pleasures of the harness and Tommy Dom’s warehouse of sensual delights.

So long, in fact, I’d healed to the point only fine white lines graced my shoulders, the part I could see doing a twist ’n shout in front of the bathroom mirror. Not so long ago that I could still recoil from the sting. No warning, just magic splitting skin, a paper cut salted. There was time to count intervals, to anticipate, though it was already too late—the hush of willow splitting atoms, air moving to the side at the speed of sound and closing onto a thin wisp of torture. Whiplash hurled waves to flash freeze the symbol, driving the succulent scent of my own desires deep into the fresh evidence of my failure.

The bobcat and coyote had squared off when I hadn’t been paying enough attention. Someone lost, someone lived, another left. Coyote faded, leaving me groveling at the altar of denial of service, panting my mea culpas because neither of my natures had understood the terms and conditions.

I still didn’t.


If y’all are curious, check them out here:


THE RELUCTANT ALPHA: http://authl.it/B016P8CXFU

ALPHA FRAMED: http://authl.it/B01D6J7JR8

ALPHA’S LAST STAND: http://authl.it/B01GUBO0S0


THE RELUCTANT ALPHA: http://bit.ly/1jVDmXb

ALPHA FRAMED: bit.ly/1RttayH

ALPHA’S LAST STAND: http://bit.ly/1sxqiMw

…or wait for the BOX SET and save some dinero.

In the meantime, wishing y’all peace and contentment.

About Nya Rawlyns

Nya Rawlyns doesn’t write typical romance. She writes emotion as a contact sport, rough and often raw. It need not be pleasant, heart-warming or forever after. What she seeks is what lies beneath—a dance of extremes, the intersect of need and desire, and the compromises we make when pain and pleasure become indistinguishable. ***** She has lived in the country and on a sailboat on the Chesapeake Bay, earned more than 1000 miles in competitive trail and endurance racing, taught Political Science to unwilling freshmen, and found an avocation in materials science. ***** When she isn’t tending to her garden or the horses, the cats, or three pervert parakeets, she can be found day dreaming and listening to the voices in her head.
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