It’s Monday, and I’m not going to lie, today is a bit of a struggle. I think a great deal of it has to do with the fact that summer is coming to an end, and my heart is breaking a little. Of course, I live in Southern California so my mourning isn’t that prolonged. What I am excited about is being able to be at the End of Summer Bash and share the newest series I’m working on. The Destined for Love Series is near and dear to my heart because it’s sprung out of a short I’d written a few years back. I’m a short story writer that likes to place characters in each of my stories that in theory will leap frog into their own story. It’s a grand plan but very rarely happens. Well here’s some good news on this manic Monday, I did it! Here’s a quote from my website where I’ve introduced the series.
They found life after I received the rights back for my short, The Next Level, and realized I had originally planned to create a series out of that book but life seemed to get in the way. Well, life stepped aside for a bit and the Destined for Love Series is happening. I am beyond excited about this, and already have my eye on a few other forgotten WIPs that are going to get dusted off to keep this party going. Each book will be a standalone that has side characters leap frogging into other books, as either bridge characters or the Hero or Heroine in their own right. I’m a California girl, and plan to keep this series firmly housed in my home state (because really, California is such a great place). These will all be contemporary romances that have the right amount of spice and heat to bring a blush to your face. As of now, this is a short story series, but now that I’ve released the stress of meeting a certain word count, who knows what my muse will craft.
For the rest of the week I’ll let you into this world I’ve created, and the characters I’ve come to love. First off is the little short I’d written years ago that has kicked off this whole shebang.
Longtime friends Rian Tanaka and Emi Washington know they need to take their relationship to the next level, but for years they’ve let fear and doubt prevent them from obtaining happiness. When Rian receives an intervention from an unlikely source, will he be able to convince Emi they are ready to take the leap—or will they never quite get off the ground?
Rian Tanaka wondered for the hundredth time how he got himself into situations like this. Ah yes, his crazy-ass best friend, that was how. Adjusting his cowboy hat, he looked out at the crowd of mostly screaming women. One in particular was the cause of his current ire, said best friend Emi Washington. Emi was decked out in her cowgirl finest. Studded Western-themed bra, denim shorts that would make Daisy Duke proud, and calf-high Western-style boots. The matching hat and pigtails completed her look of urban cowgirl. Rian may have been annoyed at being dragged to a live taping of The Cindy Show to see country singer Blake Channing, but the outfit Emi had on almost made up for the experience. Almost, because he too had to wear cowboy-themed attire and there was nothing more ridiculous than him dressed up like a cowboy.
“Come on, Rian, it’ll be fun. You know how bad The Cindy Show is. There are bound to be some serious people watching,” Emi pleaded the night before.
“Japanese men should never put on a cowboy hat and boots,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“Half Japanese, Rian. You’re half Japanese, and even if your mom wasn’t Irish, I think any man looks sexy in a cowboy hat, boots, and tight Wranglers,” she replied, with a mischievous grin and a wink.
“Not going to happen, Emi. I mean it, not going to happen,” he said, giving her a firm look.
Yep, he really meant it, all the way to the damn store to buy his outfit, and then to the damn studio to watch the taping.
“Okay, y’all. Cindy has a special treat for all my cowpokes out there. Put your hands together for one of the sexiest buckaroos this side of the Mason-Dixon Line, Blake Channing,” Cindy, the show’s host, crooned to the audience.
He’d always thought the woman was beyond stupid, but from the safety of his couch it was tolerable. Who referred to themselves in the third person, except maybe a two-year-old?
“Doesn’t she mean west of the Mississippi? We’re in California, which is nowhere near the Mason-Dixon Line,” he hissed into Emi’s ear.
Frowning, she waved her hand at him. “Rian, we decided a long time ago there is no logic to what that woman says. Just enjoy the absurdity of it, cowpoke,” she replied, drawling out her last word and giggling softly.
Discreetly adjusting his package, Rian looked back out at the soundstage. His jeans were too damn tight, and his balls were going to fall off because blood circulation was being cut off. There was no way a man could ride around for hours with jeans like this on and not suffer some consequences.
It was his own damn fault, though. If he would just man up and tell Emi he’d been in love with her since puberty, he wouldn’t have to take part in all her crazy schemes. Sighing, he plastered on a fake smile for the cameras, and tried not to think about how pathetic he was.