Oh dear @ me — I just realized how often I’ve been beginning these posts with “Excitement!” or something to that effect. (That’s good for me though, y/n?) At any rate, I’ll avoid saying that and just declare that this past Saturday, I was all but running around my apartment with my arms over my head, screaming “We are the Champions.”

I’ve finally completed the novel I was working on for nearly two years. Not the one I’m co-authoring with Audrey Pomeroy, but the one I mention in my various bios–the one about the bad boys and the 1970s. Mmm-hmm. That one.

I’m feel satisfied with the end result–I feel like I’ve really said everything that I needed to say. I tried to keep it sexy and I definitely wanted to keep it real! It was important for me to do both. I’ll desperately try not to go off on a tangent here, but it’s a pet peeve of mine when guys don’t act like “guys” and girls act too much like “girls” in stories. In short, I always want to show that you can have love and you can have sex without the sap and everyone calling each other “darling” by the time “The End” hits.

-LZ.