Free The Write Stuff by Tiffany King Page A

the bathroom to wash away the grime from two days without a shower. Feeling lazy, I decided to run a bath so I could shave my legs and spoil myself a little.
    For the rest of the day I caught up on social media, contacting bloggers about my upcoming release, and preparing swag that I would need to send out on Monday.
    Olivi a had sent me an email with the cover while I had been in lockdown. I hadn't opened it yet. Alec's mocking face wasn't something I had been ready to see. In the end, I knew I was being ridiculous, so I finally clicked the link to open the file.
    I studied the cover art for a few minutes, trying to analyze it for how well it captured the essence of my story rather than the fact that Alec's hypnotizing eyes were staring back at me. I had been wondering if I made the right choice by not telling Olivia to find another model. Seeing the finished product, I had to admit, I was glad I hadn't said anything. The cover for Wickedly Lovely was stunning. It was easily Olivia's best work to date. Natasha was as beautiful as ever, but it was Alec who brought the cover to life. Olivia had been right all along. He was a natural. Readers were going to immediately take to him. He embodied the very essence of the book boyfriend that all females wanted. Plus, he was a dead ringer for my main character, Harrison. Alec's face alone would make me want to pick up the book.
    Along with the cover files, Olivia had also sent mock-ups for bookmarks and magnets, which she said she would order if I liked the proofs. I had a full schedule of indie book signing events during the coming months and the swag was good for promoting my titles. Hopefully, I could get some buzz going for the new series. The idea of launching something new scared the hell out of me. Just because my first series had done well didn't guarantee readers would take to my new stuff. I felt my writing had improved with each book, so hopefully that would be evident in the story.
    That night I actually went to bed at a normal time. I guess I didn't realize how exhausted I had been. The cover for Wicked Lovely remained on my mind as I drifted to sleep. More accurately, Alec was on my mind, which carried over into my dreams. Distorted images of our failed night together filled my subconscious. We'd get right to the point of the actual deed and then something would interrupt us and we would start over again. It was frustrating and appealing at the same time.
    D reaming about near orgasms all night left me throbbing with desire by the time I finally woke before dawn. I debated taking a cold shower, but my body wanted more. Sliding my hand into my pajama bottoms, I could feel how wet the dreams had made me. I closed my eyes and conjured images of Alec and what he could have done with his tongue. My finger slid inside me easily as my body moved against my hand. I imagined it was Alec touching me. My breathing became labored and I moaned as if he were lying on top of me. I felt like I should stop, but my hand wouldn't cooperate. My release came almost immediately. I lay in bed motionless, wondering if I should feel bad for getting myself off over a guy who had rejected me.
    I managed to fall back asleep before waking again several hours later . The ache was gone, but I felt bereft. What I had done earlier was a poor substitution for the real deal, but maybe I wasn't being honest with myself. If so, I might have to admit I still wanted Alec.
    I was tired of pondering it either way so I climbed from bed to get my day going. Every Sunday I gave my apartment a good cleaning, including tossing my bedding into my washing machine and dusting every surface area. I vacuumed my bedroom and living room and then gathered all the takeout binge-eating trash that was stacked on the counter from the last two days.
    Once I finished , I showered and got dressed to head over to Mom and Dad's for afternoon dinner.
    I was the last to arrive when I got to my childhood home a half an hour later.