Monday, November 18, 2013

Author, author... Bethany-Kris

Read all about her !!!

Please welcome a guest post from Bethany-Kris

A Day in My Writing Life…

Very rarely do I ever get a full day of writing in. I am, after all, the mother of an almost four year old and an almost three year old. Both boys. Both hyperactive. Both seemingly part monkey and part human with way too much of me in their mischievous blue eyes.

So, my days plotted out from point to point as a writer never really works out well. I have to work it around these crazy children of mine and write when they say it is okay for me to write…or give me time, you know what I mean. Add in the fact that I work a full time job from eleven at night until seven in the morning, and I get to a point where I wonder how on earth I can crank out a story at all.

There are a few things I could not live without to make my writing happen. My laptop—it goes with me everywhere in the day around the house. I’ll jot down a sentence through breakfast, force out a couple of paragraphs while the kids are bathing, and hide on the couch while they’re zooming around the living room as I try to get all the dialogue out of my head while I still can. Secondly, my spouse. He’s a very understanding man when it comes to this artistic, crazy person I’ve somehow become in my efforts to be an author.

These two things make it all possible for me. I write between the breaks I get when my kiddos lay down for bed, hiding outside on my deck with coffee and cigarette—two vices I can’t live without—and just vomit words. I used to need quiet (before I had kids and just plain old loudness), but now I almost swear I need the noise to get anything done. Otherwise, my head is too quiet and I somehow can’t think.

I get a few short amount of time after my children lay down for the evening to when I have to leave for work that I am able to write, and I use that time to the best of my ability. Clothes will go unfolded. The dishwasher will not be unloaded. These characters have a story to tell, and I’m just the instrument they’re using to get it out. 

And while I am at work, my mind isn’t at rest. My tote is full of papers that are covered back to front ni little jots of notes that I’ve stopped to scribble down throughout the night because hell, I might forget it come morning, or I’ll just be too busy to write it.

I’m always writing something…always, I just need to find the time. It’s crazy and hectic. I write what wants to be written when it says it has to be written. There’s no rhyme or reason to me, or how it all works, but it usually does.

Thanks for letting me stop by to ramble out my thoughts!
A Mile High

Olivia wants a vacation, that’s all, but when the airline screws up her plans for a getaway to the beautiful Barbados, instead putting her on a new path that intertwines with the handsome, funny, and charming Sal, she can’t say no to his offer of joining the mile high club. Their meeting is explosive, attraction intense, and when the flight ends, Olivia is unwilling to part ways but unable to voice her wants. Still, fate is at work with its own plan, and where it finishes just might not be where it ends up.

There’s nothing quite like sex at a mile high.

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All right, give me another.”
Sal contemplated for another moment, placing his empty glass to the attached table beside his seat. Arms crossed over that broad chest, arms flexing and muscles straining beneath the thin t-shirt. He shifted in his seat, the dark wash jeans he wore showcasing the thick bands hidden under that fabric as well. I had a feeling this man was no stranger to hard work. I couldn’t help but watch his movements, thoroughly enjoying the show in front of me and thanking whatever gods had decided to be my friends for the day that this was the flight I had somehow managed to get put on instead of some other one with less likeable, or good-looking, characters.
Screw Barbados, this Newfoundland islander was better looking than anything I could have met there. And I had a few hours of him as my first-class partner, too.
The plane had already begun its taxi to the runway, the two flight attendants at either ends of the plane talking over the speakers and giving the usual safety precautions and rundown. I blocked their droning out as Sal still sat silent, leaning over the side of his seat to look down the aisle at the woman who looked like Barbie in the flesh. Jealousy raged a war through my blood. There was no way in hell that woman looked better than I did.
I cleared my throat again to get his attention. Giving me a sideways glance, he nodded at the flight attendant ten feet away. “Shit-picky.”
Wine choked in my lungs. “Excuse me?”
That attendant up front, that’s how she looks. Shit-picky.”
Unhinged giggles were muffled by my hand. “Does that mean like a plastic doll or something, because…” Trailing off, I snorted and shrugged, “…yeah, that’s the impression I got.”
He looked confused. “No, she’s turning green up there, like she isn’t well or whatever.”
Wondering what in the heck he was talking about, I turned around in my seat to look as well, but the plastic partition behind my seat meant for privacy blocked my view. Leaning over my seat to look down the aisle, I could plainly see the flight attendant from earlier was indeed turning a sickly shade, and the more she spoke, the worse she looked.
I think she’s…” I didn’t get to finish my sentence before the woman ripped off her headphones and disappeared behind the curtain that led to the front section of the plane. “…Sick,” I finished lamely. “Damn it, now we’re going to have to return back to the airport. This day couldn’t get any worse, I swear.” Sitting back in my seat, I unbuckled the belt just as the flight attendant who had been in the coach section rushed by our seats. “And I need to use the bathroom.”
Doubt it,” Sal put in quietly. “Pilot’s all ready to go, we’re away from the gates, and there’s another plane bussing in to take off behind us right now, probably. We’re taking off. Her friend will likely give her some Gravol, set her up in their little section there, and we’ll be on our way.”
A quick, vague apology sounded over the plane’s announcement system, informing the passengers it would be another minute before takeoff. Given I had a bit of time to do whatever, I decided to use the bathroom. Excusing myself from our comfortable little cubby, I made my way through to the back of the plane, ignoring the questioning gazes of other passengers in coach who were likely wondering what had happened up in first class.
In the panic-worthy, small as hell bathroom, I washed my face and hands, checking my face out in the mirror as a ding sounded above me. I looked up to see the seatbelt sign had appeared just as the pilot’s voice sounded over the speakers, asking everyone to buckle up and ready for takeoff.
Making my way back to my seat as quickly as possible, I had just moved in to sit down—Sal drawing in his stretched out legs to let me through—as the plane jerked forward. I yelped under my breath, trying to catch myself but between the black, peep-toe pumps with a four-inch heel on my feet, and the sudden movement, I ended up on something warm…and hard. Something that breathed, chuckled, and touched me.
My brown hair created a curtain over my face. Huffing a breath and blowing strands out of my line of vision, Sal laughed in my ear, rocking both our bodies. I felt his hands skim above my knees where the flimsy material of the skirt I wore had risen up. Gooseflesh pebbled at the motion and I tried hard not to shiver when fingers grasped tightly to my legs.
You okay?” he murmured. “Because I think you’re just fine.”
I nodded, trying really hard not to be embarrassed. I didn’t want to show how turned on I was by his palms to my flesh and the suggestive tone to his words. “Yeah, just surprised. I’m so—”
Don’t be,” he interrupted, voice turning huskier than I expected. “Unless you plan on moving, that is.”
Teeth cut into my bottom lip as I fought the urge to exhale harshly. “I have to. We’re just about to take off, right?”
The dismissive sound he made under his breath didn’t help the lust raging through my senses. Those warm hands of his skimmed a little higher under my dress, making me groan quietly, grinding my backside shamelessly against his jeans when he whispered, “You ever join the mile-high club?” 

Authors Bio:

Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to two young boys, two cats, and two dogs. Between the children, her full time job, the animal farm her house has turned into, and a spouse calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something…when she can find the time.

Author Links

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1 comment:

  1. Thank you for letting me stop by to chat and share A Mile High!