In which I reveal my previously unknown tendency toward obsessive behavior

So yesterday they announced the winners of the Lone Star contest at the annual Lone Star conference. Sadly I was unable to attend, Houston being rather a long way from Cleveland for a day trip, so I have been obsessively checking my email since 1 PM yesterday even though I knew they wouldn’t notify the finalists until today. This afternoon as I was watching my kid’s hockey game, I got the call, which I didn’t hear because ice rinks are really noisy, and because he was in goal, which makes me neurotic. So I called back while I was driving home, which was probably stupid because all I wanted to do was a happy dance. I squealed instead, which would have alarmed my son had he not been rolling his eyes at me from the back seat during the entire call.

Yes, it’s true, I won in the historical category. OMG! (If you know me you may also know that I never, ever, use that expression. I have used it at least three times today, which will tell you how excited I am.)

I also got two requests for the manuscript. (OMG!) And since I still have pots more editing to do, I have no time to blog for you today. Instead I will leave you with an excerpt from the manuscript, entitled Stirring Up the Viscount:

Her eyes darted around the room as the smoke grew thicker. She spotted the cookery book her mother had given her when she married, and on an impulse she grabbed it, clasping it to her chest as she began to cough.
Theodora rushed toward the door and grabbed a light wrap off a peg. She stowed the book in her satchel and adjusted the wrap around her shoulders. She opened the door, the fire behind her beginning to roar with the added oxygen. She closed it firmly behind her and inhaled great gulps of air.
Her eyes were burning and her head ached, but she walked quickly around the house to the street. Fortunately Christopher Street was nearly deserted at this late hour. She stole a glance at the house behind her and saw smoke starting to curl around the windows. She spared Lucien a thought. It wouldn’t be long before someone noticed the smoke, and he wasn’t a particularly heavy sleeper. The chances were excellent that he would wake in time to escape.
She shook her head to clear her thoughts. There was no time for regret, and certainly no room for compassion. Not for him.