Not really, it’s a line in the chorus of my current favorite song, Lotto by the Korean pop group EXO.
I actually listen to a lot of Kpop while I write. My Pandora has its own channel, and I listen to the nightcore versions while I wait for caffeine and food on Sundays. Weird, I know, but we writers aren’t normal people. We sit for long stretches of time, pounding words into laptops, computers and journals, lost in our own little worlds.
And my world just happens to have a sound track of danceable tunes in a language I know dick-all off.
Writers, do you write with music? What kind? I’m curious.
Follow me there where I blog about deliberate choices in my writing!
No WIPW today, folks, but you can catch an exclusive excerpt of Settling Down, sequel to Shaken Up, on M/M Good Book Reviews for the beginning of my whirlwind blog tour!
…that stops today and continues next week. 🙂
I’m feeling generous, so there is a small possibility that I will be giving away a copy of Shaken Up during this tour.
Watch the space to see if that pans out and what you need to do to get your virtual hands on the first of my first series!
I was yelling, and I heard the door open behind me. “Doctor, is everything alright?”
After a second, the door closed again. I didn’t even turn around, for all I knew, security was on their way to drag my crazy ass to solitary for making such a fuss.
Nothing happened, but Dr. Spaulding’s speaking. “From your friends, you have a lot of other talents that don’t involve sex. You juggle, there’s fire play, there has to be more.”
“That shit doesn’t keep you fed or warm. And who the fuck told you that, the guy I’d been fucking for a place to stay? HA! The only talents that got me anywhere were my dick and my mouth.” I clicked my tongue stud against me teeth like an exclaimation point to end my point. I didn’t want to make Jonathan look bad – he was good to me – but I had to get her to face facts. We both knew the score. No use in making it all nicey nice. I was a sex toy with legs who could eat fire.
And I didn’t regret a single minute of it.
Let’s get this party started up once again:
You know, unless I fuck up and burn my arm while not paying attention, like I did the week after that dinner.
Mark spread some cooling gel stuff on my shoulder with one eyebrow up. “You’re lucky this isn’t worse. It should heal fine.”
Fucking Cristian, creeping into my thoughts. Just who did he think he was, my boy…friend?
“Patch, you alright? How bad does it hurt now?”
Holy shit, I had a boyfriend. An actual man actually was in a relationship with me. Actually. Like really. And we haven’t fucked. Not even once. And he was still with me.
“Cristian’s my boyfriend,” I sputtered and noticed my heart raced even faster.
“Oookay. If we’re playing non-sequitors, then Shaka, when the walls fell.”
“Very funny. I’m serious.”