I just finished my 3rd novel and sent it to my editor.  I’m totally in love with the story and having a hard time making myself stop writing.  It’s called Get Lucky and it’s the story of a woman who offers to have a baby for her sister.  Then hilarity and, of course, heartbreak ensue.

Here’s a little excerpt, just for fun:

Mackie and Clive envisioned my pregnancy like a long stay at a family-owned spa. They were going to cook for me and pamper me and spritz me with gratitude every day. Mackie had read every book in existence about optimizing those nine months, and she fully believed that a happy mother made for a happy fetus. And I was willing to run with that. They were going to play Brahms on their house-wide speaker system to nurture the baby’s intelligence—as well as Billie Holliday for wisdom, Al Green for passion, and James Brown for total badass-ocity. Mackie was going to cook feasts every night and keep the house stocked with organic, high fiber food that was free of trans-fats, artificial colors, synthetic hormones, and phthalates. They were going to buy me a gym membership (no pressure!), a feng shui pebble fountain, and a birthing ball that converted into an ergonomic desk chair.

They said I didn’t have to worry about finding a new job until after the baby. That way I’d have my options open when we were done. I could follow my plan to go back to New York and resume my fabulous ex-life, or “please, please, please stay in Texas.” Either way, everybody won. They were getting a baby, and I was getting a 40-week, all-expense-paid, health-and-wellness-oriented, baby-riffic vacation. Easy.

The gorgeous photo up at the top, by the way, is from the amazing Aimee at Greeblemonkey.com.  If the feeling of finishing your third novel were a photograph, that photo could easily be it.  That’s exactly what it feels like.  You can buy that photo in her Etsy shop, and I may do just that–so I can have this feeling every day.