Sheritta Bitikofer's Blog, page 3

March 23, 2019

My Interview with C.K Brooke

An author of paranormal and urban fantasy fiction, Sheritta Bitikofer lives for the deep, engaging stories that enthrall readers from cover to cover. As a wife and fur-mama of eclectic tastes, she can be found roaming Civil War battlefields, perusing the romance section of the bookstore, or relaxing with a plate of chili cheese fries. Sheritta, welcome!





Can you tell us about The Rose ?


The Rose is the first book in a duet that tells how Belle Clearwater, a woman who hides a massive amount of social anxiety while trying to run her small farm, meets Leo Thompson, a guy that’s haunted by demons and depression and constantly running from a tragic family history. Together, they help one another realize that they’re better than the things that torture them on a daily basis, and they begin to fall in love in the process. It’s full of insightful, reflective topics like faith and mental illness, all packed into an engaging and sometimes heartwrenching story.


It sounds fascinating yet heavy! Where did the idea to write it come from?


It’s actually the first book I wrote almost twelve years ago. At the time, it was really rough and unnecessarily long and awkward in its plot and character development. I put it down for a long time and then decided that I needed some sort of closure to that cast of characters, so I picked it back up and refined it quite a bit. I added the mental illness elements, toned down a lot of the faith/religious aspects, and quickened the plot progression so it wasn’t plodding along like it had been in the first draft. The main goal of the book, or what I intended to do when I set out to write it, was to make people aware that there’s a whole other world underneath what we see. Not just spiritually, but each person we come into contact with may have something they’re struggling with. Whether that’s depression, anxiety, self-doubt, or whatever, we’re all battling something that we don’t talk about. My hope with The Rose is to get people talking about those issues, which can open the path to healing. There’s a bit movement toward exposing mental illnesses and shattering long-held stigmas about what they are or are not, so I’m just playing my part while using characters that are near and dear to my heart.


I think it’s wonderful that you’ve poured so much depth and heart into this novel, while bringing awareness to a very important condition. Were there any other works that influenced the writing of this book? Would fans of those works be fans of yours?


Honestly, the first author that comes to mind is Frank Perreti. I was reading This Present Darkness and Piercing the Darkness while I was writing the first draft of The Rose, so some of his depictions of how the spiritual realm (angels and demons) affect the physical influenced some of the scenes and conflict within my book. I don’t get nearly as religious as he does in his works, however. The show “This Is Us” I think deals with a lot of mental health issues just like The Rose, so I think if readers enjoy that series, they’ll like The Rose.


How much of yourself is in your main character? And how are you different from her, too?


It’s a little scary how much I’m like Belle. I drew on my own social anxiety and insecurities to create her, and our reasons for having such anxiety are incredibly similar. I wouldn’t go so far to say that the book is biographical, but there are so many aspects of myself in Belle, and I’m happy to say that through the course of writing this book, we’ve both healed in many ways. I’m only different in that I don’t own a farm with sheep and horses. Leo, too, was inspired by a lot of my own experiences with mild forms of depression and self-harm, but I’m much more like Belle.


Did you have any trouble executing any of the characters or scenes in The Rose? What came easily, and what didn’t?


The entire book was surprisingly easy to write because I’ve had these characters in my head for ages. The dialogue flowed well, and the emotions for the scenes were pretty easy to draw on since I didn’t have to go a lot of research into that. I suppose the hardest parts to write were the “in-between” things, such as when Belle and Leo weren’t together but interacting with others in the town. And it wasn’t necessarily hard, as it was monotonous because I wanted to get to the exciting bits with them together, but these other scenes were necessary. I suppose every author has that struggle, though.


How long did it take you to write?


If you count the 12 years it sat on the shelf, then it was 12 years. But the actual time spent writing the reworked manuscript might have been a little over a month. I tend to write fast and set goals each day for a project. The second book, The Lion, took a little longer because I wrote it around the holidays in December so I had to juggle family time and writing. The whole duet took perhaps three months with one month of editing. I did the most work in November during National Novel Writing Month and managed to crank out 90k words before it was over.


Who is the intended audience for The Rose?


I wouldn’t recommend kids under 15 to read it, purely because of the sometimes graphic content when Leo is dealing with his depression and self-harm tendencies. The genre, when you boil it down, is something like Sweet Paranormal Christian Romance. Paranormal for the spiritual aspects, Christian for the faith parts, and sweet romance for everything in between.


There definitely seems to be a demand for Christian PNR, which is sometimes hard to find. I hope you reach many people with this book. When does it come out?


The release date is March 25th, which also happens to be my 6th wedding anniversary. I did that on purpose because The Rose was being written right around the time my husband and I started dating, and it was the first book of mine that he ever read. He’s been such a monumental support for me in my journey as an author and I wanted to commemorate the release in a special way.


Your husband – the one whom I think looks like Carey Elwes!! That’s great he’s been so supportive of your writing. What excites you most about this release?


I’m so eager to share my characters with the world, and as I said before, it’s my sincere hope that it inspires as well as entertains.


Does anything scare you?


I suppose any author’s fear is that the book won’t be as well received as they hope, which is always in the back of my mind. But, I’ve learned over the years publishing that if a reader doesn’t like it, that’s not on me. It’s just not their cup of tea and there’s nothing wrong with that. My book will be loved by some and hated by others. That’s the glory of diversity and independent thought.


What’s next for Sheritta?


Right now, I’m working through my historical novellas, The Legacy Series. I’m on book thirteen at the moment, and once this is done, I’ll be setting my sights on a new series I intend to release in the fall called The Bewitching Brews Series. I’m big into the paranormal and urban fantasy, and this will be my first witchy series, so I’m excited to get started.


I’m excited for you! Where can readers get in touch if they want to learn more?


Preorder The Rose: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07NHGYG2D

Amazon: https://amazon.com/author/sherittabitikofer

Blog: https://moonstruckwriting.wordpress.com

Reader Group: https://facebook.com/groups/sweet.shifters

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/cCoOaL

Twitter: https://twitter.com/moonstruckwrite

Facebook: www.facebook.com/sheritta.bitikofer.author

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/sheritta-bitikofer

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Published on March 23, 2019 11:31

March 20, 2019

Celebrate The Full Moon With A Legacy!

It’s LIVE! Head on over to your favorite Ebook retailer to get a copy of The Deviants!


Get It On Amazon


Get It Everywhere Else


[image error]America – 1897

For Logan Elster, life was hard enough. With a gambling drunkard of a father and a mother who had to lie about her bruises, there’s only so much a sixteen year old can do. But when he comes home to witness another beating, he flies into a rage and discovers something about his ancestry that he never knew before. He has inherited a frightening gift from his grandfather and has become a werewolf, inadvertently destroying everything he holds dear. In search of the only man who can help him, Logan finds more than just a mentor in the small town of Devia, Alabama. He finds a community of men just like him. A community of werewolves.

But the community is in far more danger than their leader, Robert Croxen, will ever admit to. An industrial revolution is sweeping the nation and the railroad has come to lower Alabama. Devia is in the perfect place, but Robert won’t sell a single acre, no matter the price. Desperation drives the owner of the railroad to investigate what Robert’s hiding and what his spies find is something out of the old world fairytales. Question is, what will he do about it?






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Published on March 20, 2019 09:48

March 19, 2019

A Farm Girl and a Bad Boy

Just another week before the amazing release of The Rose, the first book in the Redemption Duet! Do you have your copy preordered?


Do It Now!

Belle lives her life from day to day, nearly crippled by her social anxiety. But if you ask anyone in Levi about it, they’d say she’s a sweet, quiet girl who works hard to keep up her family’s small ranch while holding down a job at the bookstore. No one knows that beneath her smiles lay a shy introvert who wants nothing more than to stay at home. It was easier to stay alone, stay isolated. That’s when she was the happiest. But during one thunderstorm, all of that changed and she met the first man she ever actually wanted to spend time with.

Leo made a habit of avoiding people when at all possible. Getting tied down, making friends, having a life only meant suffering. The darkness that followed him since his adolescent years never left, not really. It’d show up and ruin any hint of happiness that came his way. Running from his past and the brother that cursed him with this demon, Leo never expected to find something like home in the little country town of Levi. And he didn’t expect one storm to bring him to the barn of a girl with fire in her eyes and a face as beautiful as a sunrise. A sunrise that could chase away all the shadows.









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Published on March 19, 2019 07:56

March 16, 2019

A Peek At The Deviants

Here’s a Segment from Chapter 4 of my upcoming release of The Deviants!


Chapter 4


The burning, gnawing hunger in his stomach was gone. His muscles no longer ached. He felt light, almost weightless. And yet, there was a creeping sensation across his scalp. As if someone were rolling a set of dull spurs up and down the length of his back and around his temples.

Is this death? Please let it be death. I need this to be death.

But he wasn’t dead. That much he understood. Logan was breathing. In and out. His senses slowly came to him like it had that long ago morning. But there wasn’t the smell of the fresh carcass or the buzzing of flies around his head. There were voices whispering, their words intelligible at first. Then there was warmth. Clean clothes rubbed on his skin as his chest rose and fell with each breath.

Logan was very much alive.

Damn it.

A thousand different smells blended together, mingling in his nose like a swarm of mice pushing their way through a tiny hole. It was as if each person in the room were just inches from him, though he knew they weren’t. Sounds, so near and so distant, rang in his head. Laughter, talking, whispering, footsteps, shouting, rustling of fabric and the constant clanging of metal and wood. All of it pounded in his ears. For the last three weeks, he had been this way. Driven mad by all of it.

The only thing he could remember, through the madness, was a word. He remembered hearing it far off. Just one word. Loup-garou. He followed it, and the voices. He came to a white house. No, it was a school. And there was a man.

Logan remembered the way he felt in that moment as he faced the first person he had encountered since leaving South Carolina. Deep in his gut, a rage exploded. He didn’t understand why. He didn’t want to feel it. The stranger didn’t deserve it. But that thing in him, the one that craved meat, it hated him.

In the din, he heard that man’s voice.

“He must not have eaten for days,” he said. He sounded strange and foreign. Logan remembered once when an Englishman came to Ollie’s stables for help. He had been passing through, but Logan remembered that unique accent. So different from the southern cadence he had been raised with.

“I’d bet for weeks,” said another voice. It wasn’t as deep as the first, but gentler and thoughtful. “I’ve never seen another so malnourished.”

“It’s a good thing he fell unconscious,” said a third. This one was gruff and held more authority than all three of them combined. “He would have been too unstable to be reasoned with.” He knew that accent. It reminded him of home. Of South Carolina.

Logan moved his head and a spark of pain shot through his neck and down his chest. He winced and swallowed hard, but the damage was already done.

“He’s awake,” said the second voice, accompanied by a pair of hasty footsteps.

Logan tensed involuntarily, bracing for a touch that didn’t come. It was then he realized he was on a bed. He felt the sheets beneath him and the comfortable padding of the mattress. His head had rolled against a pillow, crisp and smelling of cotton.

More came to his bedside. He could bear the noise and the smells, but if he opened his eyes, he feared it would bring back all the hunger, the fatigue, the anger and the hatred. It would all sweep in like a gust and tip him over the edge.

The trickling of water sounded off to his side and something soft and cold pressed to his forehead. Before he understood what he was doing, his hand shot out and snatched at the wrist. It was thin and he felt the pulse quicken in his grasp.

A feminine whimper shattered his complacency. Before he had the chance to squeeze harder and break her arm as he wanted, Logan released and let his hand close over the air just in front of his face. The fist was a warning and they heeded him.

The man with authority was the first to break the silence in the room. “Leave, Ginny. Your work is done here.”

Logan heard her light footsteps and the dusting of her dress hem against the floor. A door closed and he lowered his fist, but he still wouldn’t look at the men. He could feel their stares on him, pinning him to the bed in a muted command to remain perfectly still. All he wanted to do was run.

“You’re safe here,” said the Englishman. “Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

He wanted to believe it, but everything in him rejected the assurance. He didn’t feel safe. He felt lost and unsure why his head continued to tingle like it did. He wanted answers, but he didn’t want to speak.

“What’s your name?” the softer voice asked.

A weight pressed down on the edge of the mattress near his side and a new, disturbing sound erupted from Leo’s chest. A growl. It rumbled low, another warning. But the man didn’t listen. He didn’t move.

“You are safe here,” the deeper, commanding voice reiterated. “We’re like you. We just want to help.”

Just like me?

The growl died away and he put a greater effort into opening his eyes this time. The light dazed him at first. It poured through a window behind him, shining upon the three men.

“His eyes were gold when I found him,” the British man said to the others in a hushed tone. Dark haired with eyes to match, he was indeed the one that came out to meet him from the schoolhouse.

“That’s an improvement,” replied the gentle one sitting on his bed. He gave Logan a tight-lipped smile, green eyes smiling with him. His long dark hair was pulled back behind him. The prominent cheekbones and darker complexion reminded him of a Cherokee who lived on the outskirts of his home town. But this man was lighter, and he had never seen an Indian with such emerald eyes.

The last, the one who exuded so much confidence, stared at Logan with piercing blue eyes that offset his jet-black hair. There was something unsettling, yet calm about him. If he thought anyone was a threat, it would be this man. Yet, if anyone were capable of protecting Logan, it would also be him.

All were strong, judging by their build and how their clothes were filled out around their shoulders and arms. They seemed capable, steady, and Logan began to believe what the Englishman said. Maybe he was safe.

“What’s your name?” the leader asked as he folded his arms.

Logan let his lips separate, but the answer sat on his tongue for a moment before he could force it out. “Logan… Logan Elster.”

He nodded, as if the answer pleased him. “I’m Robert Croxen.” Then he gestured to the half-blood native and the Englishman. “This is Adam Swenson and Darren Dubose. Do you remember meeting Darren?”

Logan regarded the schoolteacher and nodded in answer.

“How are you feeling?” Adam Swenson questioned, scrutinizing his face for any flaw or sign of distress.

“Fine,” he lied.

The three men stared, and he could tell that they saw through his passive answer. However, they didn’t press further.

“Where did you come from?” Darren asked, sliding his hands deep into his trouser pockets.

Once more, Logan didn’t want to trust them. He didn’t want to say too much. What if they already knew who he was? What if they knew about his parents? How far had he fled from home?

“Where am I?” he asked, carefully avoiding any other questions.

Robert was more obliging. “You’re in Devia, Alabama.”

So, he had made it. Logan let out a long breath. In his grandmother’s journal, it had said his grandfather, the werewolf he inherited from, was from Alabama. It also mentioned in a later entry about Devia. This was a safe haven for werewolves, for beasts like him.

Somehow, through the starvation and fatigue, he’d made it.

“I need to see Dustin Keith,” he told them.

Darren visibly bristled at the name. The other two looked to the teacher, shock written in their expressions. “Dustin Keith?” he repeated.

Logan nodded. “Is he here? I need to see him.”

Now, Darren looked to the others for assistance. Irritation flamed in him at the delay.

“Is he your father?” Robert asked, his tone dropping a note to convey the seriousness of the question.

“My grandfather… on my mother’s side.”

It was then that the three relaxed, but only marginally. Darren seemed especially peeved. Adam looked back to Logan. “Who is your father?”

Again, Logan didn’t want to answer. He looked to the three of them, and then shook his head. “I need to see Dustin. Is he here or not?”

“He’s not,” Darren curtly replied. “He left when the war started. He’s probably in Europe somewhere. We haven’t heard from him in years.”

Logan let his head drift backward. All that way for nothing. The promise his mother wanted him to keep was for nothing now.

“If you want us to help, we need to know more, Logan.” Adam’s voice cut through the contained wrath that surged in him.

He had walked for miles upon miles, across state lines and risked death by starvation to find Dustin, and he wasn’t even there. Logan wondered if he could book a passage to Europe, if it was even worth it. His mind was already far away from Devia by the time Darren spoke.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

He wanted to lie. To say he was from somewhere else in Alabama, or even Tennessee. Admitting he was from South Carolina might make them inquire about his family. The one he had left behind.

If they found out what happened to them, they might turn him into the authorities. He’d be charged for murder and sentenced to a death of his own. Then again, would that be so bad? He wouldn’t have to withstand the noise, the smells, or the constant flaring of some wild entity roaring inside of him. He could be free again and maybe reunite with his mother.

Would werewolves be permitted in heaven? Would it even matter?

“South Carolina,” he muttered.

That elicited some shock from the men.

“You walked all the way?” Adam asked. Logan nodded. “When was your last shift?”

It was then that he remembered what Robert had said. They were all like him, and they wanted to help. All werewolves. He looked to each of them, trying to find some clue in their appearance that would give them away. He saw nothing. Besides their brawn, there might have been nothing to suggest they were telling the truth.

“You can trust us, Logan,” Darren said. “We’ve all been in your place and know how scary it can be. You’re among friends.”

Throughout his childhood, Logan couldn’t remember having friends. It was just him and his mother for the longest time, struggling through life with his father breathing down their necks. Now, he had no one. Not even Ollie. These men and this entire town were supposed to be a refuge, according to the journal. Maybe Dustin wasn’t here, but Logan could learn from them instead.

Hope was a dangerous thing. He had learned that the hard way. He could never hope for his father to turn sober. He could never hope that his mother would someday see the error in staying. He could never hope for anything more than being a poor boy who wasn’t good at much of anything. Could he hope for a future anymore?

“I… I don’t know how long… A few weeks, maybe?”

Robert’s jaw clenched. Adam’s stare grew distant as if he were thinking about something important. Darren seemed to be the only one still grounded in the moment.

“If it’s been a few weeks, what happened to you when you shifted, will happen again soon. We want to be ready for it, so we’ll need you to…”

Logan didn’t hear anything else. He would turn into a monster again? He’d become uncontrollable? He’d kill? The others in the room might have sensed his panic before he even realized it was upon him.

He bolted upright and tore away the blanket that covered half of his body. They were on him faster than it took for him to blink. Adam grabbed his legs while Darren and Robert took his shoulders and forced him back into the bed. Their grips were like iron, their strength far superior to his.

He kicked and clawed at them, resisting. He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t kill. Not when there were women and children here. He couldn’t hurt them. Not again.

“Logan, you have to calm down!” Robert insisted. “We can’t let you leave.”

Frightened tears streamed down his cheeks, the first he had shed, since he’d left his mother’s body in the cabin. He didn’t even have the strength to bury her. He saw her lifeless face again and all at once, he could see so many more dead. Mutilated, bleeding corpses across the town. He could see the white schoolhouse in flames, the children screaming and burning. All because of him. He couldn’t be responsible.

“We’re going to take care of you,” Darren promised. “We won’t let you hurt anyone. But you have to let us help you.”

Logan was too tired to believe, but just terrified enough to fight. That is, until something else struck him out of nowhere.

From all three came a power more devastating than anything he knew. Greater than hunger, than pain, than sorrow, but more calming than his own mother’s fond embrace. His limbs lost their strength. His tears dried up. And though his chest continued to heave, Logan let himself be compressed under this power. He let it drown him, entering his soul and silencing that anger that seared inside.

What had they done to him? Was this how they helped? If it was, Logan would stay in this state forever. Anything to quiet that storm of feeling that could never break.

“We’re going to take care of you,” Darren said again, attracting Logan’s gaze.

For the first time, looking deep in the werewolf’s eyes, he believed every word.

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Published on March 16, 2019 12:45

March 14, 2019

The Newest Addition to the Legacy

This next novella in the Legacy Series is so precious to me. Not only because I’m introducing my favorite angsty loup-garou, but because it contains elements of some extremely old story ideas before I ever started my first book.


Devia, as many Loup-Garou Series fans know, was a small town just on the border between Florida and Alabama, where Logan and Darren first meet after the former runs away from home. But what many don’t know is that Devia is based off of a real place I’ve visited countless times. The first time I visited Florala (named for the combination of the two states it borders), I was with my mom on an antique shopping excursion. It was in one of the stores that I first came up with the idea of a town wholly made up of werewolves (loups-garous), where they hid their identity from the world and rejected any outsider interference. A tiny story went along with this idea, but thank the muses that it never saw the light of day.


When I first began to pen the Enigma and decided to develop these characters, I wove the concept of Devia into their stories. When the idea of the Legacy Series began to take shape, I knew I had to feature this town, and an entire book would be dedicated to it.


Well, I’ve written that book and it’s a bittersweet feeling to finally have it all down on paper, ready to share with the world. It’s my fond hope that this will be an epic close to Volume 3 of the Legacy Series. Releasing March 20th!


Preorder on Amazon


[image error]America – 1897

For Logan Elster, life was hard enough. With a gambling drunkard of a father and a mother who had to lie about her bruises, there’s only so much a sixteen year old can do. But when he comes home to witness another beating, he flies into a rage and discovers something about his ancestry that he never knew before. He has inherited a frightening gift from his grandfather and has become a werewolf, inadvertently destroying everything he holds dear. In search of the only man who can help him, Logan finds more than just a mentor in the small town of Devia, Alabama. He finds a community of men just like him. A community of werewolves.

But the community is in far more danger than their leader, Robert Croxen, will ever admit to. An industrial revolution is sweeping the nation and the railroad has come to lower Alabama. Devia is in the perfect place, but Robert won’t sell a single acre, no matter the price. Desperation drives the owner of the railroad to investigate what Robert’s hiding and what his spies find is something out of the old world fairytales. Question is, what will he do about it?


 






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Published on March 14, 2019 08:41

March 12, 2019

A Taste of The Rose

Here’s the first bit of chapter 1 from my new release, The Rose, coming March 25th!


Preorder Here! 



For the first time all day, Belle could finally breathe. As she curled up her feet on the sofa, a steaming cup of lemon jasmine tea between her hands, she basked in the comfortable silence. The rain outside had picked up and she had already spotted a few flashes of lightning through the speckled windowpanes, but that didn’t bother her. The thunderstorm added just the right ambience to help her relax.

The last hour had been spent actively trying not to go over the events of the day. She didn’t want to rehearse every word, every action, or overanalyze all that had happened to her in the bookstore. All she wanted to do was let her mind go blank. With the christening sip of her tea, its aroma soothing her anxious mind, she resolved to do just that.

On the coffee table sat her laptop and a lit lavender candle that added to the whole calming atmosphere she strived to create. She glanced to the screen and watched the four security camera windows with the black and lime-colored images of her animals in the barn. Three horses and a small flock of sheep all rested peacefully through the storm. There was the occasional stirring from an ewe or head toss from one of her mares, but nothing alarming. Just how she preferred it. A quiet night recuperating from the chaotic, stressful day.

Belle sunk lower against the mass of pillows and let the tea take effect on her rattled nerves. This was just another end to a long day that, to anyone else’s eyes, went off without a hitch. But to Belle, clad in her soft pajama bottoms and baggy Longhorn shirt, it was one of many that left her tired, drained, and in need of recharging.

All day, every day, she put on the mask. The one that gave a friendly smile to everyone, the one that spoke the right words every time, and never showed how truly terrified she was to be facing a perfect stranger. She spent so much energy keeping that mask firmly in place to hide her true self that at the end of the day, all she could do was crash on the couch with her tea and wonder if this would ever get easier.

Here, in her home, she was safe to be herself. It was her haven, her port of call. Her nearest neighbors were at least half a mile away on either side of her expansive farm, the one that had been passed down through her family for generations.

Everything in the barn and her two-story little farmhouse whispered the cherished memories of her childhood and a dozen childhoods before her. From the dining table in the kitchen that was made by her great-grandfather, to the wall of bookshelves in the living room packed with novels that had been collected over decades. Not to mention the three upstairs bedrooms that stored precious heirlooms dating back to her great-grandfather’s time when the house was first built. All of it embraced her and welcomed her into a safe place she would never trade for the world.

She might have been alone here, but she was happy. Here, she was able to let down her long brown hair, freeing the waves and curls she tamed back every day in a ponytail. Here, she could let loose and be who she wanted to be and not have to fake her own existence for the sake of being polite and normal.

Once she had drained her first cup, Belle begrudgingly stood from the sofa and made her way into the adjoining kitchen to pour herself another. Two more and she’d be ready for bed soon, the pacifying effects of the brew thoroughly cleansing away her anxiety. Her socked feet strode across the black and white checkered tiles, the ones her grandfather had laid when he first brought his new bride home. Her father once told the story of how she took one look at the patterned vinyl and demanded it be replaced. The project was completed in just two days before her grandmother made some comment about the cabinets, and they were replaced too.

Now, dark wood offset the green countertops, giving the rustic kitchen a mis-matched look that Belle couldn’t bring herself to remodel. There was too much character here, and even the thought of replacing the old appliances made her feel a little sad. So, she tolerated the dryer that had a mind of its own in the corner with the washer, and the gas stove that didn’t always want to start, and the refrigerator whose icemaker broke when she was ten years old.

No, she wouldn’t change a single thing about any of it.

As she poured hot water from her overused kettle over a fresh teabag, she heard a loud crash followed by a peel of thunder. Belle glanced over her shoulder to the darkened window but saw nothing except the pattering of raindrops against the glass.

She went straight to her laptop table and peered at the surveillance videos. She couldn’t see anything obviously wrong until one of the feeds showed that the barn door had come unlatched and banged furiously against the outer wall. This startled the horses and though there was no sound on the footage, she could hear all three mares knicker and the loud cries of the ewes over the pouring rain.

With a sigh, she knew she’d have to wait to start on that second cup of tea until she fixed the door. But just when she was about to turn away, Belle caught sight of something in the camera. For just a moment, she thought she saw something moving outside of the animal pens. It was too big to be a sheep and stood upright like a person.

She stared at the screen longer, her pulse racing as she tried to make sense of what she saw. Nothing moved again, but that didn’t keep her from spiraling into a panic. Maybe someone had broken into her barn. Her entire body went ice cold at the thought.

Another clash of lightning made the power flicker and she could see the bright green glow of the string lights flicker and die in the live video feed. Belle had convinced her father years ago to rig the barn with electricity so they didn’t have to take a lantern or flashlight with them if they had to check on the animals at night. However, that power had always been glitchy and unreliable at best. She had left the lights on to give some comfort to the animals during the storm, but who knew if they would turn back on.

Donning her rubber boots and raincoat, she grabbed a flashlight from the hook on the wall and dove out into the storm as she tried to ignore every instinct to stay inside where it was safe and dry.

Mud sloshed all around her pant legs, soaking them through until she felt the water chill her ankles and seep into her socks. Not even her boots could keep out the torrential downpour. Plump, cool drops splashed on her face, thoroughly dampening it despite the hood that concealed much of her head.

The rain fell across the yellow beam of light, almost obscuring her view. Somehow through the darkness and haze of rain, she saw the barn door slapping against the front side of the barn with every gust of wind.

Belle stopped to examine the damage, her shoes sinking into the deep puddles that had already formed on the ground. She knew for a fact that she had locked up the barn before going back inside that night. The padlock couldn’t have been knocked off by the wind and the key was still sitting on the kitchen counter. It had to have been broken by something. Or someone.

Fear rose up in her throat, but she tread softly toward the barn doors. Belle swallowed hard as she inspected the lock and found that it, along with the latch, had been ripped completely off, and lay in the mud just in front of the entrance. Whoever had gotten in was either incredibly strong or had a tool sturdy enough to rip off the lock.

When she shined her flashlight around the opening, she saw what the intruder must have used. An iron crowbar lay in the dirt just inside the threshold. It hadn’t been there before, but Belle recognized it as her father’s. His initials had been etched into the handle when he forged it himself for a school project.

Belle picked up the crowbar and swung the door shut behind her. She pushed back her raincoat hood and shined her flashlight around inside of the barn, willing for the beam to stop bouncing as her hands continued to shake. She swept it along the horse stalls, then to the sheep’s pen to the far back right corner, then to the old run-down Volkswagen opposite from them.

There was a thickness in the cool air that confirmed her suspicions that something wasn’t right. Whoever had broken into her barn must have still been there, lurking in the shadows where her flashlight couldn’t penetrate.

After another quick check with her light, she roamed to more closely inspect the barn. Nothing appeared to be missing in the way of supplies or animals. Yet, there was still an unease that filled her spirit. It just didn’t feel right, and she hated the way her heart pounded against her ribs with painful urgency.

Thinking that it might have been the storm making both herself and her animals nervous, Belle turned to leave, willing to dismiss what she saw on the camera feed as a moth or bug that got in the way of the lens. Maybe the wind had picked up a sturdy piece of lumber and knocked it against the lock to make it fly off instead of the crowbar she found. The wood of the barn door wasn’t new by any means and probably bore the beginnings of dry rot anyway. She couldn’t remember the last time the latch had been replaced, so it was possible that there was no intruder after all. That’s what she wanted to believe.

Then, she heard a sneeze. It wasn’t an animal sneeze, as she knew them all too well. This was a human sneeze and it sounded distinctly male.

Belle whipped around, crowbar poised and ready to throw or beat down whoever came near her. Her flashlight darted to all the corners, but still found nothing.

Finally, she called out in the strongest voice she could muster, “Show yourself now or I’m calling the cops!”

It took a moment, but there came some movement from the stack of hay bales near the back wall. Belle, as shaky as she was, stood her ground and gripped her weapon tighter. Though her teeth were clamped tight, her ragged breaths came sputtering out from her nostrils. There was no hiding her fear, no matter how she tried.

A man came forward with his arms raised in submission. He was shirtless, only clothed in a pair of battered jeans, torn and stained. His body made the air in Belle’s lungs freeze. Residual rainwater dripped from his barrel-chest down his toned, rippling abs and curving along his narrowing waist. He had broad shoulders and beefy arms as thick around as her thighs, all muscle and power.

Her flashlight stopped at his neck, but her eyes continued to roam upward. A pair of pure blue eyes sparkled from beneath dark brows. A beard covered his jaw and around his mouth, as black as the night sky. His equally dark, damp hair was slightly flattened and tangled by the storm, its tips grazing against the bare skin of his collarbone.

But it wasn’t the striking contrast of his hair and eyes that stunned her. It was the way he looked directly at her, ignoring the weapon she held, and the harsh light shining on his torso. He wasn’t afraid, but neither was he on the offensive. There wasn’t a hint of malice anywhere in his expression. There wasn’t a hint of anything. He met her stern gaze with a steady, gentle one that both intrigued and unnerved her even further.

Yet, somehow, she couldn’t look away, even if she wanted to. She would have given anything to drop her eyes in submission. Her mask wanted to come up, to protect her from this man and his hypnotic gaze. But, it couldn’t. Why couldn’t it? Maybe it was the long day or the tea she had drank earlier. It put her at a disadvantage, and she wasn’t prepared to face another person that evening. Exposed, caught off-guard, and terribly vulnerable. Anything could go wrong here, and she needed to be brave and detached. But the mask wouldn’t stick as long as this man was looking at her like that.

They stood there, in a stalemate for what seemed like several minutes before he spoke in a deep voice that rattled her bones. “Are you still going to call the police?”

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Published on March 12, 2019 07:43

March 9, 2019

Decimus Trilogy on Audio!

[image error]As y’all know, I’m slowly working my way through producing audio for all of my books. The Decimus Trilogy is no exception and I’m over the moon excited to share this one with you! The road to making this audio started almost a year and a half ago, but several balls were dropped in the beginning, which seriously delayed things. Long story short, the awesome and talented John Fehskens stepped up to the challenge of narrating this three part series set in both modern and ancient Rome. And let me tell you, he nailed it. Every part of it. I couldn’t be happier with the way it turned out and I hope you, as the listeners, will adore the story as much as I do.


For those who loved reading the trilogy, or have yet to experience my first paranormal historical fiction endeavor, this audio rendition will entrance you from start to finish. So much care and attention to detail went into the writing of it, and an equal measure of that devotion was put into the audiobook production. Don’t believe me? Here’s a sample!


Link to Audible



The Decimus Trilogy on audio is available wherever audiobooks are sold!



 

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Published on March 09, 2019 08:10

March 5, 2019

A Story of Trust and Redemption

NEW RELEASE!!!


This one has been a long time in the making. The Rose was first penned over ten years ago, originally over 200k words long, and the first novel I had ever completed. A few years ago, I decided to tackle the monumental task of reworking it (because it wasn’t all that great, to be honest). Now, it’s been split into a duet (two book series) and ten times the novel it had once been. The characters are the same (for the most part), but the plot took a lot of adjusting.


I’m so incredibly proud of this piece. Not only because I adore the story and the characters, but because of its meaning. Those who personally know me that in the past, I’ve had problems with anxiety, depression, and self harm. While I’m not that person anymore, writing this duet has brought about an abundance of healing and revelation in my life and how I see the world. Packed with humor and introspection, The Rose is the first book of the duet that teaches a lesson about mental health and the value of self care.


Releasing March 25th, 2019!

[image error]Belle lives her life from day to day, nearly crippled by her social anxiety. But if you ask anyone in Levi about it, they’d say she’s a sweet, quiet girl who works hard to keep up her family’s small ranch while holding down a job at the bookstore. No one knows that beneath her smiles lay a shy introvert who wants nothing more than to stay at home. It was easier to stay alone, stay isolated. That’s when she was the happiest. But during one thunderstorm, all of that changed and she met the first man she ever actually wanted to spend time with.

Leo made a habit of avoiding people when at all possible. Getting tied down, making friends, having a life only meant suffering. The darkness that followed him since his adolescent years never left, not really. It’d show up and ruin any hint of happiness that came his way. Running from his past and the brother that cursed him with this demon, Leo never expected to find something like home in the little country town of Levi. And he didn’t expect one storm to bring him to the barn of a girl with fire in her eyes and a face as beautiful as a sunrise. A sunrise that could chase away all the shadows.

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Published on March 05, 2019 08:38

March 4, 2019

Something About Sheritta #34

[image error]Q: What makes a good story?

A: Relatability and Believability. For some things, you can suspend believability, but for the most part, you can’t. And if there is no relatability between your readers and the characters, they won’t read past the second chapter. So, if you stick to those two basic, but profoundly important guidelines, I think the story can be great.

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Published on March 04, 2019 08:11

March 1, 2019

Tips from the Traveler

A little cross posting from my Civil War Traveler Blog. Follow and like the post to see more on that channel! Packed with historical and Civil War things.


Belle on the Battlefield


52153176_2390913937588188_563159148393398272_nI thought I’d take a break from research for a moment to impart some of the wisdom I have earned over the last six months when it comes to traveling to these battlefields. When I started to plan my first big Civil War expedition, I was going to Virginia and I thought I was pretty good at knowing what I should or shouldn’t do, what I should bring, etc. Experience has a funny way of telling you that you’re wrong. And there wasn’t a whole lot of help on the internet for exactly what I was doing, so I wanted to share these little tips and tricks for you.



First Things First – Research

Deciding to make plans

If you’ve got an inclination to travel to a battlefield, or perhaps you’ve heard about a demo or reenactment event in your area, but it’s going to be more than a “day…


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Published on March 01, 2019 07:47