On Hoedown’s Eve

Brevyn peeled back his lover’s hands to only find tightly closed and scrunched-up eyes. Samuel looked no more than four and Brevyn had to fight down the urge to scruff his little blond head. “Oh, but you’re going to love this one, Samuel,” Brevyn purpose- fully purred. 

Sam moaned. “Just spit it out, alright? Are we parachuting into a demilitarized zone between hostiles to save some kind of ancient crockpot?”

“An ancient crockpot?” Brevyn repeated with a smirk. (Writhe, page 142)


And there you have it! The final Taste of Writhe before its release tomorrow…

Puking my cowardly guts up at this point would be gauche, right?

*giggles nervously while keeping an eye peeled on the waste basket only a lurch away*

You’d really think I’d be over all of this mental melodrama when it comes to the release of a book. This is my 15th time, for pity’s sake, but I’m still as skittish as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs (always wanted to use that old saying somewhere *lol*)

I can feel my OCD tendencies gathering themselves up for one heck of a hoedown tomorrow…

Did I just use the word “hoedown?”

The hillbilly blood has picked a darn fine time to peek out. *snickers*

Enjoy the rest of your Memorial Day weekend everyone and I’ll see you tomorrow for the long anticipated release of Writhe!

BYOPB… Bring your own Pepto Bismol.

Until tomorrow…


POST NOTE: I’ve updated my website’s homepage! (www.chloestowe.com) Please check it out if you’re keen for some juicy details on Writhe and “Ravenscar.”

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