Front of Black Point Inn
Maybe it was the salty sea breeze. Or the view of the ocean. Or the hike on the Cliff Walk. Or the lobster roll.
Whatever it was, it worked like a charm. My trip to the Black Point Inn was relaxing, productive, and inspiring. I wrote a ton, got a good feel for the whole story, hung out with some of my bestest buds, and managed to consume a ridiculous amount of seafood (crab cakes, clam chowder, grilled shrimp, lobster roll, fish chowder, and salmon....and of course wine and cocktails!). I ate so much seafood I think I turned into a mermaid.
It's like looking in a mirror!
Cosmo for the win!
Flowers at Black Point Inn
Front view of the inn
Cliff Walk, Black Point Inn
Cliff Walk, Black Point Inn
Here's a sneak peek at my manuscript. Warning: This is NOT your typical romance novel. But it IS a love story. A different kind of love story.
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"We're weeding all right. Bastard weeds. You ever seen stinging nettle?"
"No."
"How about jimson weed?"
"No, I get dandelions."
"Dandelions. For Christ sakes, those aren't weeds. They're food. They're edible. I'm talking about bastard mother fucking weeds. Plants that try to kill you, poison you, shoot you with chemicals. This garden isn't some pansy-ass annual border with mari-fuckin-golds. This is war. I've got weeds that try to strangle the other plants. I've got poison ivy that will send you to the ER. We're at Defcon One. Got it?"
Tom's face was so close, Bev could see every wrinkle around his eyes, every black and white whisker on his cheeks, a scar on his chin. She nodded. "Got it."
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Dreaming of a cottage by the sea,
Penelope
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