I just sent out the advance review copies to the review team-- are you interested in joining the team? Let me know!-- and I told them that if I had a picture of myself tonight, I'd be comatose on the kitchen floor surrounded by junk food and tequila.

My week started strong-- and then popped like a balloon full of slime tonight.

Slime in some terrible color that stains your skin as well as your clothes and you can't wash it off...it just has to wear off. (Have you ever handled walnuts when they're still in their husks off the tree? They do that, they stain your skin for weeks.)

I've been doing my living inside the house, because it's stupid hot outside and I intended to move with the weather when I built the little hobo house camper trailer-- it does not have air conditioning.

But I go out to the back yard every day to pet it and promise it that we'll be back on the road soon.

Except yesterday-- yesterday I was very busy doing authorly things and never went to check on the trailer. I didn't get out there until after seven p.m. tonight-- to discover that the one time I leave it on its own, something went terribly wrong.

I just don't know why.

My 12 volt refrigerator/freezer had the temperatures completely reset-- and for the wrong compartments. My freezer was 70 degrees, Fahrenheit, while the refrigerator was 0 degrees Fahrenheit.

Oh no. That won't work for either side!

Fortunately, since I've been living in the house, most of my groceries were in the house fridge. But what was in the trailer fridge was a complete loss-- except for the tequila. The tequila had been in the fridge and had happily ridden the climate change slide from 38F to 0.

I almost just started drinking straight from the bottle while I cried my way through tossing everything else. (There were STEAKS in the freezer!)

So that was my day-- here's a book you can pre-order!

"Lancer--" I reluctantly break my mouth away from his and gulp down air, trying to decide if I want to clear my head or not. "--you're kissing me."


Except, this time, it's me kissing him; insistently bringing our mouths back together and fitting my lips to his.


My hands are wrapped around his neck, hanging on for dear life and not about to let go.


"Fuck yeah, I am."

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I already told you my personal life story for the week, so there's not much more to add down here below the cows.

Now that the O'Leary's have all married up and are living their HEAs, I'll be stepping away from Slow River for a hot minute, because there are some lumberjacks up in Moonshine Ridge that have been very impatient about getting my attention (remember the guys who were trying to pick up on April at the coffee shop in Promises on the Mountain?)

I believe I'll be back to Slow River Valley for the Savage brothers...or the Pereiras. We haven't really gotten to know the Savage boys all that well yet. They are the U-n-U ranch up on the alluvial plain at the far, north end of the valley and, to be honest, I don't know much about them yet either.

While the Pereiras are a bunch of crazy rodeo types and, while I do know them better, I'm not sure they're quite ready to settle down yet.

Naturally...the Flying R comes last. I'm already in love with those boys so hard-- and the Kelly's have to come right before the Ralstons. For reasons.

~Rocklyn