When I started writing, I used to drag yellow legal pads everywhere. I’d scribble ideas while making dinner, writing the grocery list, folding the laundry, waiting for the kids in the car after school, in the doctor’s waiting rooms, anywhere and everywhere. I wasn’t picky, but I was compulsive.
All of my habits changed when I got my first computer. It was a desktop, and it didn’t take me long to abandon the yellow legal pad complete with its dog-eared pages filled with scribbles, doodles of swans and clouds, crossed out sections, underlined and misspelled words, dozens of exclamation points and ideas that were scrawled in the margins.
Instead, I had my own space, a real desk in a real office (with a door!), away from the family. I had a blank screen. I could focus better. I could misspell a word and it didn’t matter. Spell check would correct it later. Grammar? So what? I could let my fingers fly across the screen and correct the pesky commas later.
For years, my office became my sanctuary. I did all my work, including brainstorming in there, on the computer. I became a fan of One Note, and I kept random ideas and character charters in there.
Eventually, I started to travel for business, and I thought that perhaps a laptop computer would be nice to have, just for those occasions. I could stay connected, even write while in a hotel room.
The more I began to use a laptop, the more I loved it. I discovered I could write on the hotel room desk, or, even better, in bed!
And then, the angels sang and the heavens smiled.
I abandoned my desktop computer entirely. It’s in a storage unit in Denver. And it’s so old it still has a floppy drive. (I know, I know. It should be in a museum, not a storage unit!)
After my divorce, I needed new furniture. I bought a headboard that went straight up and down so I could prop my back against it when I wrote in bed. Yep, I shopped for a bed as if it were office furniture.
Then, a couple of years later, I needed a couch. It had to have an ottoman and a straight back. More office furniture!
When I got remarried and moved in with my husband, I got a sunroom as my office. I did get a gorgeous desk, but instead of a fabulous chair, I bought a chaise longue. I do most of my writing there. The design fits my back, and I’m able to prop a pillow beneath my knees to prevent fatigue.
But my favourite place to write, oddly, has become the kitchen table. Since I no longer have kids around and don’t crave the quiet, I find that I like being in the middle of things. If I were honest, I would probably admit that it has something to do with being closer to the coffeemaker!
The funniest thing? I am back to writing and brainstorming on yellow legal pads. The computer, that has allowed me to be so connected, has created new challenges in the form of distractions. I have times where I am derailed by a small detail that needs to be researched. And I’ll Google the question and then check Facebook or respond to an email or two since I’m already online.
Now, when I want to be really creative, work through an idea or write my character charts, I will walk away from my computer and take a notebook to my office, to the local Starbucks, or even outside on the patio if the weather is nice. Now the biggest problem is making sure I have the correct pen with me. Blue. Tul. Fine point. It seems I always need something to obsess over.
Excerpt from Command:
Half an hour later, she admitted defeat. Sleep was still a long way off and she needed a distraction.
Aria turned on the lamp sitting on the nightstand then grabbed her computer. She curled up on the chaise longue and breezed through the lighter-than-normal number of emails.
She opened a book, but when it couldn’t keep her interest, she moved on to a game of solitaire. The slow pace allowed her mind to keep chugging along, putting memories together with fantasies and causing anticipation to curl through her.
Frustrated, she slammed the lid closed on her computer.
This kind of restlessness only happened when she couldn’t settle her mind. Exercise tended to be the only thing that helped. Since Grant had a world-class facility in the house, she decided to avail herself of it.
She couldn’t help but glance down the hallway, half hoping he was still awake, but his door was shut, and she didn’t see a ribbon of light shining beneath it.
In the workout space, she programmed the treadmill for half an hour then started at a casual pace. Once her body loosened up, Aria ramped up the speed until she was running.
By the time she was done, her chest was heaving, but she was still picturing Grant standing over her, arms folded as he promised to fuck her. “Damn it.”
After wiping off the sweat with a towel, she considered a swim, but it was really one of her least favorite forms of exercise. And she hated the initial shock of diving into cool water. As far as she was concerned, the only time to be in a pool was when the weather was gorgeous and she could sit on an underwater stool while a handsome bartender served up a cocktail. Bonus if he stuck an umbrella in it.
The hot tub, though, was an entirely different matter.
Aria glanced around before removing her clothes and dropping them in pile.
She dipped her toe in the water to test the temperature. Since she could see the steam rising from it, she figured it was perfect.
As she expected, the tub was fabulous, and it had subtle curves to support her body. She sank in a bit at a time as her body adjusted to the heat. Eventually, her shoulders were covered.
Peace surrounded her, soothing her. More than ever, she understood why Grant had chosen this spot for a retreat and to heal.
“Am I intruding?”
Heart thundering, she opened her eyes. Grant stood there, wearing a pair of swim trunks. Even in the dim light, she saw the definition of his biceps, the flatness of his stomach.
His legs were powerful, thighs massive.
“I’ve been in here a while, so I was leaving anyway,” she said. Lied. To cover her sudden bout of nerves, she gave a half smile. “It’s all yours.”
He descended the two steps into the tub and sat down across from her. “Are you sore?” He paused. “Anything you need to talk about?”
In the past, she had always pretended things were okay, even if they weren’t. Somehow, she’d become a master of evasion, something else she wasn’t proud of.
So if she was ever going to experiment with being bold, now—when there was little emotional risk in a relationship that was naturally short-lived—was the time.
“My pussy is a little tender.” Then she admitted the truth, “I was wondering if there’d be a next time.”
“Are you wondering if I find you desirable?”
“Honestly? No.” She met his gaze. Even if she had doubts, the desire in his eyes would banish them. “I felt your dick through your pants.” For her, that comment definitely counted as bold.
He grinned. “Constant hazard when you’re around.”
“So?” she prompted.
“I’m learning about you, watching your reactions. You’re learning about me, my instructions. You’re figuring out whether you want to submit to me—and you’re probably considering what that might mean. I want to give you experience, but not too fast. BDSM and sex are closely intertwined, but they can exist side-by-side. I don’t have to fuck everyone I spank.”
“This woman, you do. I have rules, too.”
Blurb for Command:
This is book three in the Bonds series, see the full series listing here
With all she has to offer, she’s his to command…
Aria DeWitt is a runaway bride. Only months away from her wedding, she panicked, returning her engagement ring and donating her gorgeous gown to charity.
She’s less than pleased when she’s reassigned to a new work project and sent to work with Grant Kingston in the middle of nowhere. She knows of his reputation as a recluse and genius, but she isn’t prepared for how handsome, powerful and deliciously Dominant he is or how he ignites something inside her that no man ever has.
Grant isn’t happy when his cherished solitude and creativity are shattered by Aria’s unwanted and unwelcome arrival. That is until he glimpses her carefully concealed vulnerability. Aria’s confidence and responsiveness intrigue him, ensnaring him in a way he’d never believed possible, chipping away the ice that shrouds his heart.
As he interacts with her, he realizes why she ran from marriage. She’s never met someone strong and complex enough to hold her interest. And suddenly, he’s determined to be that man.
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of anal play.
Like the sound of Command? Buy it here.
About Sierra Cartwright:
INTERNATIONAL BEST SELLING AUTHOR
Sierra Cartwright was born in Manchester, England and raised in Colorado. Moving to the United States was nothing like her young imagination had concocted. She expected to see cowboys everywhere, and a covered wagon or two would have been really nice!
Now she writes novels as untamed as the Rockies, while spending a fair amount of time in Texas…where, it turns out, the Texas Rangers law officers don’t ride horses to roundup the bad guys, or have six-shooters strapped to their sexy thighs as she expected. And she’s yet to see a poster that says Wanted: Dead or Alive. (Can you tell she has a vivid imagination?)
Sierra wrote her first book at age nine, a fanfic episode of Star Trek when she was fifteen, and she completed her first romance novel at nineteen. She actually kissed William Shatner (Captain Kirk) on the cheek once, and she says that’s her biggest claim to fame. Her adventure through the turmoil of trust has taught her that love is the greatest gift. Like her image of the Old West, her writing is untamed, and nothing is off-limits.
She invites you to take a walk on the wild side…but only if you dare.
Check out Sierra’s new Bonds website.
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