New Release Jitters

Josh Stewart

Here we go again. Next Tuesday, THE TWINS (Epitaph 2) enters the real world. I get so nervous! Will you like reading it as much as I loved writing it? (If you do, please leave me a review! And even if you didn't...) I have to tell you I had a ball writing Jared (the hero). Have you ever seen Criminal Minds? JJ's husband, Will? I love the way he talks. Oh, yeah. Back to the book.

Want another little snippet to whet your appetite? (Have you ordered your copy yet? Links are on the web page.)

   Jared pushed to his feet once more, retrieved the remaining tools on the dining room table and stuck them in his pocket, then crutched to his chair. As he resumed his seat, his phone rang with Celine Dion’s My Angel—the  lovely Siobhan McCormick. He knew her last name now.

   “Hallo?” he answered.

   “Sorry I missed your call.”

   “I was worried I might have scared you off, with all my bruises and bandages and scars.”

   She was silent a moment.

   “Siobhan?”

   “I’m here,” she said softly.

   “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

   “How did you know it was me?”

   He smiled. “Well, I didn’t place your voice at first, but that silly nickname you used was close enough to put it all together. If you’d have said your name was Miss McCormick, then I might have had a more difficult time.”

   “Shevy’s not a silly nickname. My brother calls me that. And my sister.”

   “Sounds more like a car, and darlin’, you don’t look anything like a car.” He closed his eyes to picture her. No, she was sweet, and pretty and he sensed a bit of feisty that would make things interesting, but best not to go there right now, not while his bones were still mending. “So you want to buy my house?”

   “I haven’t decided if I’m ready to take that step.”

   “I noticed you lingering in the bedroom. Something about that appeal to you?” Nope, nothing wrong with his circulation. Jared shook his head, frustrated once more by his injuries.

   “The closet didn’t look very big,” she said, but her voice held a teasing tone.

   “I’ll make it bigger for you,” he said.

   She laughed. “I think I already told you I’m not having phone sex with you.”

   He opened his eyes wide, then chuckled. “Well, that one’s on you, ma’am. I was actually referring to the closet. I’m a carpenter by trade. What were you referring to?” Not so Frankenstein-ish after all if her mind was going to those places.

   “The closet, of course,” she replied, that breathy hitch in her voice.

   “You want to have sex in the closet?” he asked. Say yes.

   She giggled. “You’re a terrible flirt.”

   “Tell me what else you liked about the house, because you know I can’t have sex for another month, and you’re killing me here.”