Well.

I had been idly crafting today's email in my mind while I stared at the work in progress with a listless sort of resignation.

I was going to ask you if you knit or crochet. I was going to launch into a lengthy-- but no-doubt, very entertaining-- anecdote about watching my mother crochet.

If Mom discovered she'd dropped a stitch somewhere back, she would rip out row after row after row...after row...of whatever she was making, in order to pick up that dropped stitch.

I crochet like the yarn is on fire-- dropped stitch? Oh well! It still looks like a scarf, or sweater, or snowflake. It'll be fine.

Today was the day I finally caved and realized I'm going to end up taking my mother's approach with this book-- it just went off the rails somewhere along the way and I have to rip it out and pick up that dropped stitch.

That's the story I was going to tell.

Then, the software I use to map out my series "bible" ATE MY #&*!ING SERIES BIBLE!

2 years of notes organizing the entire world of Moonshine Ridge/Slow River Valley into a coherent timeline so I know exactly who did what when...*poof* up in the digital equivalent of smoke.

Backups? Yes, I keep backups. I have the program scheduled to auto-backup-- my backup was also...not there.

I did, eventually, find a back up from before I started adding the Slow River Valley Ranches to the document-- at least I have most of Moonshine Ridge in order still.

But-- let's just say that there have been new curse words invented that would make a mountain man blush.

My already frustrated day has turned into one of those "eat an entire pizza and a half gallon of ice cream while drinking whiskey straight from the bottle" kinda nights. Punctuated by a lot of profanity.

So, here's a little snip from just before Ranger and Serenity's meetcute-- it's rough, unedited, and might get a major overhaul before all is said and done-- so go easy on it and don't get attached:

Ranger O'Leary:

The pretty little thing sitting across from me, looking all kinds of out of place, has my interest piqued and my dick hard.

Probably because I can't help but thinking that the outfit she's got on would look more appropriate for bending over a billionaire's desk in a city high rise office than getting on a plane to cow town.

From the disheveled look of her, maybe that's exactly what she was doing before she got dropped off at the airport.

Leaning back against the hard plastic that passes for a chair in most airports, I widen my stance and set one ankle on my other knee.

It gives my dick a bit of breathing room and my eyes a better view of her.

Young, curvy, cute as hell. Dark chocolate hair still mostly pinned up in one of them neat little knots woman are able to pull off, the kind where they can loosen the whole mess so it falls down over their shoulders by just pullin' one pin.

My eyes drank their fill of her heart-shaped face and sweet features when I sat down across from her, when I took my opportunity to get a good look at the things you can look at on a stranger without being a creep.

Now they're determined to cross that boundary and take what they want.

The plane's not here yet and there's nothing else worth looking at in this room, so I let 'em.

From the bow of pouty lips that look like they lost their lipstick a long time ago, my gaze trails down her delicate jawline, following a tendril of dark hair that's found it's way out of its up-do and curled against her neck as it follows the long line of her throat and lays lightly along the contour of her cleavage.

Too many buttons have been left undone at the top of her deep green blouse. Not only are the tops of her full breasts on display but so is the lacy edge of the black bra holding them up. That, along with the wrinkles in her skirt and the thick runner in her stockings, just adds to my theory that she's got a rich boyfriend here in the city who's smart enough to keep her from looking at another man.

Old men like me, leering at her so hungrily that I almost manage to forget why I'm headed home after all these years and what awaits me when I get there.

from The Cowboy's Temporary Solution Coming Soon

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a junk-food binge to complete while I cry to the heavens for an explanation of what I've done to deserve such cruelty. Then I have five chapters to rewrite.

~Rocklyn

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