The adage that life is a juggling act is a clichรฉ for a reason. Itโs true. Itโs
so stupendously true that itโs a joke. I mean, seriously, is there anyone out
there who is actually on top of said ball, at least without the stupid thing
periodically rolling out from under them and putting them on their butts?
(Exercise balls, Iโm looking at you.) The truth is, we juggle. And my juggling
goes something like this.
Monday: I have all week to do all the things. I make a scheduleโฆon a
spreadsheet. Writing, homeschooling, meal prep, houseworkโฆitโs all neatly
partitioned by day and allotted with help from the weather forecast. Beautiful
day? The kids will spend it outside, so that is when Iโll write all the words.
Iโll get ahead, I will! Cold rainy day? Homemade soup it is! I got this.
Tuesday: I spent Monday making that pretty spreadsheet. Iโm behind, a
little, but all is not lost. Only the kids can smell โflusteredโ like they can
smell burgers grilling, so suddenly Iโm the most popular person in the world.
Even my teenagers wonโt stop talking to me. This feels like one of those awesome
parenting wins, so I go with it. Words can wait.
Wednesday: I forgot to add laundry to that list, which I realize when I
donโt have any clean. Iโm behind on words, and I havenโt hit 5,000 steps once
this week. The shrill sound of panic fills my ears.
Thursday: I SHALL WRITE ALL THE WORDS TODAY. An illusion thatโs
shattered when I realize Iโve slept past nine. I spend the entire day playing
catch up. Catch up is apparently playing hide and seek, because thatโs one
elusive little sucker.
Friday: The week is shot. Iโve accomplished nothing. Iโve failed so hard
at juggling that my balls have hit the floor and disappeared. Theyโre probably
under the sofa with my missing marbles. But thatโs okay, because itโs the
weekend, and Monday is right around the corner. I SHALL ROCK MONDAY.
Sarah and her husband of what he calls โmany long, long yearsโ live on the
mid-Atlantic coast with their six young children, all of whom are perfectly
adorable when theyโre asleep. She never dreamed of becoming an author, but as a
homeschooling mom, she often jokes she writes fiction because if she wants
anyone to listen to her, she has to make them up. As it turns out, her
characters arenโt much better than the kids, but nevertheless, youโll find her
writing sexy contemporary romance for Entangled Publishing until they throw her
out.
Ethan Chase isn't
interested in dating. After losing the woman he loved more than life itself,
he'd much rather ride solo, but his family is dead set on fixing him up. To get
them off his back, he hooks up with ultra-adventurous, ultra-temporary
adventure photographer, Rue Campbell. All he has to do is survive three weeks in
her orbit and he'll be single again, only without the pitying looks and pressure
to move on.
Rue is literally counting the days until her plane leaves New York City. The
last thing she wants is a relationship, but being Ethan's pretend girlfriend
can't hurt, right? Wrong. With Ethan, there's no faking anythingโin or
out of the bedroom. With the sheets burning hot and the clock ticking on their
arrangement, Rue realizes she's falling for a man guaranteed to derail her
goals...and break her heart.
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