Over the weekend, my husband and I worked together to create this adorable project—a tiny, mint typewriter!
The coolest part, the keys and ribbon holders all move!
I’m working on the edits for Thorns, and the cover reveal is coming soon.
Want a sneak peek of what’s coming?
I stuffed my hair back behind my ears and ran for the front door. As I went, the shadow of a man with massive wings drew over me.
“Your bottom looks spectacular from this angle!” Garavel called out before he swooped into the air. My cheeks burned at the compliment and I absently twisted the fallen hair around my finger, knotting it more. For a brief moment I paused and stared between the two entranceway pillars. They framed the orange and pink sun as it tumbled through the trees and the man flying in the center of it. An entire two months and I still got butterflies watching him do that.
“Where’s your spell book?”
I yelped at the unexpected voice and head shoved through the door. Daniel blinked disconcertedly, his features lit by the harsh fluorescents in the library where he died instead of the golden light of sunset. He stared past my shoulder to Garavel and snorted. “So that’s why you didn’t come down the stairs. Looks like his wing’s back to normal. Guess I won’t need all those veterinary med books after all.”
Gliding past him I pushed open the door he’d ghosted between. The wood shoved through him, Daniel showing no signs of being able to stop it. That was good. As much as it hurt him to not touch it, it’d hurt worse if he could.
He blinked harder, then focused on me. I pressed my lips together, feeling self-conscious as he took a languid stroll down my curves. The camisole stuck to me like a second skin. I feared I wasn’t getting it off without a pry bar, or a talented incubus. Daniel took his time staring over my dotted shoulders bared to the summer heat. As he boldly focused on my chest, he swallowed and crossed his arms.
A low growl rumbled from him and I shivered. “You know you don’t have a bra on.”
“I don’t?” On instinct, I reached down to try to cover myself. Cold hands slipped over then inside of mine. Daniel took control, keeping my palms from shielding away my nipple growing longer from the chill.
He paced closer, using my hands to rub over the top of my breasts barely concealed behind a scrap of polyester. The moan grew deeper, with a gravel that’d weaken any knee. Daniel dipped my fingers into my cleavage, tugging the neckline lower as he watched.
“You did that on purpose. To torture me.”
“Ah.” I laughed at the idea that my scattershot brain had the mental capacity to handle how a spoon works, never mind leaving my underwear behind just to tease them.
My arms jerked down. Daniel took control up to the elbow as he whispered almost against my lips. “Because you want me to torture you.” He pressed my arms together, tightening them around my breasts. “Even if I can’t touch you…” He reached my right hand under the waistband of my shorts, a tight squeeze.
I braced my quivering thighs as he strained my finger for my soaked panties. Daniel’s brown eyes blazed with a spine quaking certainty. He brushed his cool lips to my ear as he dove a finger in. “I know exactly how to drive you mad.”
“Babe? Did he drop you off outside again?”
The second interruption by Cal killed the festivities in an instant. Daniel slipped away from me and kept walking to the other side of the room as Cal came in from the hallway. He spotted me standing next to the open door and smiled.
“Thank the moon,” Cal muttered like a prayer. With a quick jog, he ran over to me and scooped me in his arms. I expected a peck, but he kissed me hard with his palms clamped to my hips. I draped my arms around the back of his neck, my libido in a spin cycle as it bounced from one man to the next. As Cal pulled back, he nipped my lip and I yelped before shivering.
“I hate when he does that. What if he drops you?”
“He’s not going to drop me. He’s built like a…” Okay, that may not be the best thing to tell Cal. Don’t worry about my other boyfriend, he’s stronger than all of you combined. They’d been on cool acquaintance behavior lately, which was better than I could have hoped. I tried to think of a response that wouldn’t restart the cold war, when I noticed Cal’s eyes had found far better distractions.
His stance opened wide and I didn’t need to rub against his jeans to guess why. He ran a palm over the scruff of his chin and a growl far more feral than Daniel’s rumbled in his chest.
1 thought on “My Tiny Typewriter”
I have a typewriter similar to yours. OH do I remember having that kind
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