Work in Progress

Hey, guess what! I’ve been working on a contemporary romance. Yup. Me. Shocking, I know. My brain needs to be checked. Here’s the first excerpt! (Though the book will have warnings for domestic violence and abuse, this snippet only has warnings for really bad humor.) I’ll share more information as I get closer to finishing.

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He stops, and I run into him again.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” I say feebly.

He barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “Well, that’s embarrassing.”

“For you or for me?” I ask. “Inquiring minds need to know.” I back away from him a little, half-expecting to feel eyes on me and know that someone saw me too close to someone who isn’t Gabriel.

“I’m going to guess… both.”

“Damn it,” I respond, gathering myself again. I like this banter. It feels good to relax after being so keyed up since I got that email asking for a meeting. “You caught me. But yeah, I’m just here for a meeting. Not to sleep through Algebra.”

“So it’s probably a bad idea to tell you that I teach math,” he says, grinning at me. I like the sight of it. School would have been infinitely more interesting if I’d had more teachers like him when I’d been here.

“Bet I could sleep my way through your class too,” I reply cheerfully. And I feel a little guilty for thinking in more ways than one.

He laughs again, shaking his head. “I’m Dexter Weston,” he says, offering his hand out to me.

I arch a brow. “Dexter? Like the serial killer?” Nice, Sky. Really nice.

“Like the fictional serial killer, yes,” he says, and his voice is more than a little dry. Well, I doubt I’m the first one to say something about his name.

I take his hand, and the touch sends something warm coursing through me. I ignore it, shaking his hand and marveling at the controlled strength in it before releasing it. “Skylar Orion.” I eye him. “Don’t even,” I tell him before he can speak.

He laughs again, and it sounds genuine, like something natural. I like it as much as his smile, and both seem to be quick to make appearances. “I would never.”

I snort.

“Come on,” he says, nodding toward the office. “Let’s get your visitor pass so no one else mistakes you for a student and tries to put you in detention. Then we can go chat.”

Right. The chat. The whole reason I’m here to begin with. I think I liked the bantering better. “Am I going to be wishing I was in detention by the end of it?” I ask as he opens the door for me. I step inside, flashing him a smile.

“That would be telling.”

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