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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
by
Bethany-Kris
Blurb: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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Excerpt:
“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.
Sal.
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?”
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.
Thank you for letting me stop by to chat and share A Mile High!
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