I hate making a resolution. I never follow it. I thought that maybe I would make my resolution be no fast food for a year. As soon as I thought it McDonald’s sounded so good to me. I figured I better change that resolution or I wouldn’t make it past January. I decided to set my goal to something that I could actually achieve. So, my New Year’s Resolution is to finish writing two books this year.
It doesn’t sound like much, but I have two books that will be coming out this year too. I haven’t gotten edits back yet, so that will take some time. Also, my full time job tends to get in the way of writing. I can’t put that off. I also can’t put off my almost four year old! So, I think that two books in one year is very attainable.
In order to fulfill my goal I have started working on my newest novel. I am 11,000 words into it. I have the next three chapters roughly planned out as well. It is a good start. I haven’t figured out a title yet, but it is a spin-off of my contemporary romance novel, Harbor of Love.
Here is an excerpt from my newest Work in Progress (WIP) Enjoy!!
“Don’t do it, Jillian,” he walked backwards until he came up against the fridge. There was nowhere else to go.
Jillian’s eyes blazed blue in anger. She reared back her arm and let the crystal vase fly.
It shattered against the fridge, just missing his head.
“Let’s talk about this like adults,” he pleaded with her. She was looking around the kitchen for something else to throw at him.
“Baby, talk to me.”
“Don’t call me baby,” Her eyes met his across the room. She stopped looking for an object to hurt him with, and paused. “You aren’t worth it.” She grabbed her purse and car keys from the table and went out to the garage.
She got into her SUV and squealed the tires as she put it in reverse to get out of there as quick as possible. As she merged onto the interstate tears started to blur her vision.
Jillian put down the window. She was instantly blasted with the steamy humid air. It was July 2nd and Chicago was going through a heat wave. All she wanted was to get out of downtown and away from Nate before she turned her car around to go back to throw something else.
After ten minutes of sitting in Chicago’s bumper to bumper traffic on I-95, Jillian let her mind go back to the scene she had just witnessed. She gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. “You son of a bitch,” She yelled. Jillian glanced at the car next to her, a group of high school age girls started to giggle. “Get it together,” she told herself.