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A Day in the Life of.....
Jan Meredith has been a romance junkie since her teens. When she isn't penning steamy stories about strong-willed, independent women and the sexy men who love them, she works as an Infusion Therapy nurse. She lives near Mammoth Cave, KY with her husband (and former high school sweet heart) Tommy.
You can learn more about her at her web site: http://www.janmeredithauthor.com
Follow her on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jan.meredith.121
or Twitter: https://twitter.com/JanMeredith21
Hi, Aislynn. Thank you so much for having me on your lovely blog today!
A day in my life depends on which part of the week we’re talking about. I’m a nurse, so on Friday-> Sunday, I work in an Infusion Therapy Clinic at a hospital, giving intravenous medications and blood to outpatients. On those mornings, it’s basic.
Regardless of what day it is, I’m writing—either on my laptop between patients at work, jotting down a thought on a grocery receipt, driving here and there while my characters talk to me—I’m writing. What most people don’t realize is, no matter what a writer is doing, he or she is always writing in one fashion or the other.
Monday -> Thursday, I’m a wife and writer, and I would just like to say that I have the most laid back, supportive husband ever! When the muse is with me, he will wade through the muck and mess, eat sandwiches and watch the most God-awful stuff on TV while I’m glued to the keyboard. Even when he passes by and sees me deep into a round of Bejewelled , he’ll ask, “I thought you were writing,” to which I respond, “I am. This is brainless—I’m thinking.”
Four days of the week, the alarm clock does not rule me. When my feet hit the floor, the first thing I do is turn on my computer. While it’s booting up, I make a pot of “stronger than my hubby makes it” coffee and then go through my emails, check in on my most awesome critique partner, Cathryn Fox, and see what’s happening in the world of Facebook. I’ll pull up my current work in progress, read over what’s already written, make some tweaks and dive in for as long as the muse will allow.
House work—I’m the queen of multi-tasking, which comes in really handy whether I’m nursing or writing. Once I get all the machines going—dishwasher, washer and dryer—fill up the sink so the pots and pans can soak, I head back to the computer. When I rush back out, long after the dishwater has cooled, I heat it back up and my hubby says—again—“ Aren’t you writing?” to which I reply—again—“I AM! I’m thinking.”
I have no set routine. This goes on all day, and for me, it works. My hat is off to those writers who have structure and discipline. If I could do that, I certainly would…but my head would explode if I even attempted to force myself to stay put. I’ve often been in awe of my sister’s ability to stay in one room and clean it until it shines, then move on to another. Me? I’m all over the place…and no way can I organize just-one-closet—it’s all out in the floor in every room. But that’s what works for me.
When a fellow RN jokingly predicts that Beth Roberts will meet a tall, ripped and totally lick-o-licious stranger who will fulfill her deepest desires, it’s supposed to be from across a crowded room, not giving CPR to a wedding guest. Given her tragic love life, Beth has no desire to become involved again, but who could have predicted the ponytailed doctor with the mischievous smile would break through her defenses?
Dr. Gabriel North blamed himself for his wife’s death. Now, after two years of battling guilt and meaningless hookups, he’s ready to move on. When he sees the sexy brunette at his friend’s wedding, his attraction is swift and strong, and he wastes no time in pressing his advantage. One night with the woman who makes him feel alive again isn’t enough, but gaining her trust is going to take more than medical school has prepared him for.
“Thank you for the drink.” She picked up the glass, took a cautious sip.
“Water and lemon. I didn’t know your preference, and it seemed the safest choice.”
Beth watched as he lifted his glass to his mouth and drank deeply. She swallowed as if the cool liquid was sluicing down her own suddenly parched throat and wondered how the simple act of water sliding past his lips could appear so erotic. And the way he licked it from his lips—not a regular old dart-and-swish, mind you, but a leisurely swipe of his tongue, and she could almost feel the rasp of it along the seam of her…
Heat, dark and rich, infused her sex. She shifted in her chair and tipped her hips down in an attempt to relieve the ache building there, only to find it heightened the sensation.
“It’s not very comfortable, is it?”
Blinking, Beth watched Gabe’s mouth curl into a slight smile. When she looked up, a glint of amused hunger brightened his eyes.
He knows. He knows what he’s doing to me. How freaking embarrassing! And how incredibly hot.
She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry?” Was that her voice, all breathy and sultry?
He paused, studied her for a moment, and then said, “The chair…it’s not very comfortable.”
Relief washed over her, quickly followed by a touch of disappointment. Had she misread him? “No, no it isn’t.” To prove it, Beth shifted again and crossed her legs. She groaned inwardly when the change of position rubbed her thighs and the needy territory between them together, intensifying her little problem.
“Sometimes,” Gabe started thoughtfully, turning his glass in small half circles on the tabletop and drawing her attention there. His broad thumb streaked the condensation on the glass and then paused to slowly circle one small area. Beth scrunched down a little and squeezed her thighs together. “Sometimes, you have to find just the right…spot.”
“Yes, well,” Beth clamped her fingers around her glass. Her toes curled inside her shoes. She shifted slightly, dragging her gaze up from the motion of his thumb on the glass. Warm, observant eyes looked back at her, full of promise and possibilities. Well. Maybe she hadn’t misread him after all. “Fortunately, I won’t be sitting on it for long.”
“Fortunately,” he agreed solemnly.