L. Ann's Blog, page 2

Snippet Sunday

This week’s Snippet Sunday is a scene from the first book of our Dark Legacy series — Bonded in Blood. You can buy a copy here or read it for FREE in KindleUnlimited.

“Well, that worked out better than I expected.” Morgan broke the silence as they entered Shadowfall. “And your girlfriend survived.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Taz’s denial was immediate.

“What then? Your fuckbuddy?” Morgan’s laugh was brittle. “Call it what you will. You’re sleeping with her.”

“You jealous?” Taz countered.

“No. Were you sleeping with her when you came to Vegas?”

“Hadn’t even met her,” Taz grinned. “You are jealous.”

“What have I got to be jealous about?” Morgan asked. “It was a weekend, not a declaration of eternal devotion.”

“It could have been more than a weekend if you hadn’t shot me.”

“Yeah, right,” Morgan laughed. “What happens in Vegas…”

“Stays in Vegas – yes, I know the saying. Doesn’t make it true though.”

Morgan shook her head. “I’m not talking about this anymore.”

Taz smiled, pushing the button to call the elevator. “So, you accept that there is a this to talk about?”

“No,” Morgan disagreed. “I’m saying you’re talking rubbish.”

Taz gave her a sidelong glance. “So, if I suggested we go back to my suite, take all our clothes off and roll around naked together – you’re telling me that wouldn’t tempt you?”

She scowled, ignoring the sudden heat that flooded her. “Absolutely not!”

Taz spun on his heel and leant forward until his lips were against her ear. “Liar,” he whispered, then continued the move which took him past her and into the waiting elevator car.

Morgan followed him more slowly, taking up position at the opposite side of the compartment, her arms folded across her chest. “I’m not lying.”

“Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?” Taz smirked, pushing the button to take them up to his floor.

“Convincing you doesn’t matter, does it?” As soon as the words left her mouth and Taz’s smirk became a full-blown smile, Morgan knew she’d made a mistake. “I meant that I don’t care whether you think I’m lying or not.”

A definite lie. Her heartbeat had sped up by a good five beats per minute since they had entered the elevator. And her scent … GOD … so strong he could almost chew it. More than likely involuntary, but it was sending a very clear message to Taz.

She wants me – no doubt about it.

And I want her. No use trying to deny it.

It’d been all he could do to keep his hands off her since she first showed up in Shadowfall. And that bothered him. Confused the hell out of him. She was a gorgeous woman, yes. But still, just a woman. One he’d already bedded. He rarely – very rarely – had any residual yearnings for any woman after the first dance between the sheets. It was always ‘been there, had that, what’s next?’. But this one – this one touched him in a way; in a place; none of the others had ever reached before.

“Why did you sleep with me in Vegas?” His complete change of direction made Morgan blink.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time. Now I’m not sure it was.”

“So, let me get this clear in my head. You decided, out of the blue, upon sight of me, that I’d be a great first lay?” He watched with some fascination as Morgan went scarlet.

“That wasn’t how it was!” she denied.

“How was it then?” He arched an eyebrow. “I would like to know. I’ve gone over that weekend in my head a million times and I can’t see why you felt the need to shoot me.”

“Why does everything have to be about you?”

“Because it was me who took the bullet?” He pushed himself away from the wall and took the three steps needed to stand right in front of her. “We had a good time. Hell, it was better than good. You wanted me as much as I wanted you. And then you fucking shot me!”

“I will shoot you again if you don’t back off.” There was a thread of warning in her voice.

“Tell me you don’t think about that weekend. That you haven’t once wondered what could have happened if we’d followed it through.”

“I don’t think about it,” Morgan repeated his words flatly.

“You are,” Taz planted his hands either side of her head and bent forward so their eyes were level, “a liar.”

“I am not lying,” she hissed in return.

“Then why do you want me to kiss you?” he asked.

“I don’t!”

“No?” Taz lowered his gaze, knowing hers would follow, to where her hands had risen of their own accord and were clutching at the lapels of his jacket. He timed his next move to perfection – waiting until Morgan’s eyes lifted to meet his — he smiled at her look of startled confusion and dipped his head to capture her lips.

Morgan’s first instinct was to fight and, had Taz attempted to hold her in place in any way she would have, but he touched her with nothing other than his mouth and even that was featherlight, easy to break away from, and she found herself straining forwards instead, chasing his lips with her own and it was her hands that gripped the material beneath her fingers tightly and hauled him closer.

“You know –“ an amused masculine voice brought them back to their senses, and they separated abruptly. “That’s why the emergency stop got invented.”

The post Snippet Sunday appeared first on Draft Edit Publish.

Teaser Tuesday

For Teaser Tuesday this week, I’m sharing a draft of a scene from the next Dark Legacy book — provisionally titled Bad Blood (likely to change). As always, this is unedited, unproofed and may or may not make it into the final book.

~*~

Morgan lifted her empty glass and waved it at the bartender.

“Just leave the bottle,” she told him when he topped it up and turned to leave. She slid a hundred dollar bill over the bar to him. “Keep the change.”

“Yes, ma’am!” With a grin, he rang up the cost on the till and pocketed the remainder while Morgan curled a hand around the bottle’s neck and drew it closer.

“You shouldn’t be sitting here alone.”

Morgan turned her head just as the redheaded young vampire slid onto the stool beside her and she lifted her glass in greeting. “I see Fallon’s been shopping again.”

Rowan laughed and smoothed a hand down over the scarlet dress she wore. “He bought this in Monte Carlo last week. He claims I needed it.” She paused to smile at the bartender. “Can I have a glass, please? I’ll share what my friend is drinking.”

Morgan snorted. “You want some of this, buy your own.”

“Well that’s not very friendly, is it?”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m not very friendly.” She refilled her glass, drained it and filled it again. “Does Fallon know you’re here?”

“Koo’s with me. She’s just parking the car.”

Morgan turned slowly on the stool. “Do I look like someone who enjoys girly nights out? Do I need to –” She broke off when a tall male approached them.

“Ladies,” he smiled expansively. “How about a little company?”

Morgan sighed. “How about no?”

He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Let me persuade you otherwise, honey.”

“I’m not your honey,” she lifted her glass and took a swallow. “You have three seconds to remove your hand before I break it.” Morgan cast a sidelong glance at Rowan. “You should probably leave. Fallon won’t like you being caught up in this.” Her gaze moved to where the man was reflected in the mirror behind the bar. “One.

“Come on, honey,” his hand tightened its grip. “We could have a real good time.”

“I’m about to have a great time. Two.” Morgan placed her glass down onto the bartop. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Three.” As she spoke, she lifted her hand, gripped his wrist and twisted.

The man yelped as he found himself driven to his knees with Morgan standing over him.

“Morgan, I don’t think –” Rowan began, her eyes darting around the now-silent bar.

“Go home, Rowan.” Morgan jerked her arm and there was a sickening snap as the man’s wrist broke. He howled. Morgan released her grip and shoved him backwards, her lip curling. “Oh stop snivelling. If you don’t want to get hurt, don’t touch what doesn’t belong to you.”

“Morgan, we need to leave,” Rowan whispered.

Morgan looked at the redhead. “I’ve told you to leave twice already.” She straightened and faced the men slowly rising to their feet. “Now you’ll just have to stay out of the way until I’m done.” She advanced a step and smiled. “Who’s next?”

The ensuing fight was short and brutal. At first, the bikers had come at Morgan one by one, but as they saw how their brothers fell at the petite brunette’s feet, they surged forward en-masse.

Morgan checked to see where Rowan was standing then threw herself headlong into the battle.

© 2018
No part of this may be copied without prior permission from the author. 

The post Teaser Tuesday appeared first on Draft Edit Publish.

Midnight Touch — Part Seven

Shaun

Cassie’s sister is looking at me with a mixture of suspicion and appreciation which, believe it or not, is something I get a lot. I’m so used to that reaction, in fact, that it generates an automatic response. “Rockstar mode” kicks in. I flash her a smile, designed to win her over, while reaching for her hand. I can feel Cassie frowning at me as I raise her sister’s hand to my lips and press a kiss to it.

“Andi,” she says, and there’s a tone to her voice that makes me look at her. “This is –“

“Shaun,” I supply my name, squeeze her sister’s hand and let it drop. “Cassie dropped by the Lodge earlier, so I gave her lift back.”

Both women are staring at me now and, I have to admit, I kinda feel like I’m a slab of prime steak waiting to be cooked and eaten.  My eyes swing from one to the other and I keep my grin firmly in place.

“And now she’s arrived safely, it’s time I got on with my day.” I turn to head back to my car when Cassie’s voice stops me.

“Wait!”

I pause and lift an eyebrow in query.

“Thank you, again.”

“That’s okay, Goldilocks,” I reach out and tug a lock of hair that’s come loose from her ponytail. “You’re more than welcome to break into my bedroom anytime you like.”

I hear the sharp intake of breath from Cassie’s sister and my grin widens as I stride back to my car.

The rest of my day passes without any excitement. I stop at the grocery store and buy supplies, then head back to the Lodge where I spend the evening working on a song that’s been on my mind. I take a call from DJ just before midnight and entertain him with the events of the day, then hit the sack around 3 AM.

~*~

It’s been three days since my “intruder incident”. I’ve spent most of it writing songs and talking DJ out of flying down to keep me company. He doesn’t like the fact I’m here alone, he thinks I’m going to relapse. I may have also spent way too much time thinking about my intruder and what her asshole ex has been doing.

I’m sitting in the lounge playing my guitar when I hear a car pull up outside.

I prop my guitar against the couch and rise to my feet. I reach the door just as someone knocks on it. I pull it open and come face to face with the girl I’ve been thinking about. She’s dressed in jeans again, a pair of white sneakers on her feet instead of those godawful flat pumps and a black t-shirt that reads “Dear Morning. I hate you. Bye!” I snort and lift my eyes to meet hers. There are dark shadows beneath them and she looks tired.

“Get lost on your way to the library?” I opt for the flippant approach and step to one side to allow her to walk past me.

She accepts my unspoken invitation and heads inside, waving a paper bag at me. “I know I apologised for the other day, but I felt like I needed to do more.”

I follow her into the kitchen and watch as she pulls a bottle of tequila out of the bag and places it on the countertop.

“So … you what? Thought you’d get me drunk and have your wicked way with me?” I lean against the doorframe. “For future reference, I’m easy.”

She chuckles. “I was going to buy you a bottle of whiskey, but something tells me you’d appreciate a good bottle of Tequila.”

“Goldilocks, if it’s got alcohol in it, I’ll appreciate it.” I glance at my watch. “It’s got to be 5 o’clock somewhere.” I open a cupboard and pull out two shot glasses.

“I can’t stop. I just wanted to drop off the bottle and –“ she hesitates, waits while I reach for the bottle, open it and pour the clear liquid into the glasses.

“And?” I prompt, lifting the glass and knocking back the Tequila.

“I heard you’ve been up here a couple of weeks and the other day was the first time you headed into town.”

“So?” I tap the other glass. “You gonna drink that?” She shakes her head so I down that shot, too. The burn feels good.

“So … it’s Friday night. Karaoke at the local bar. I thought if you’ve got nothing else to do … “ she leaves the sentence hanging.

“Karaoke,” I repeat. “You’re inviting me to a Karaoke?”

“Forget it!” She pushes past me and heads back toward the front door.

“Hang on,” I catch her arm as she goes and pull her to a stop. I study her as she glares back at me. There’s a faint blush on her cheeks and I realise I embarrassed her with the way I reacted. Not everyone has an ulterior motive, I remind myself. “You just surprised me.”

She pulls her arm free from my hold and turns to leave.

“What time and where?” I hear myself ask.

Cassie half-turns to face me. “You’ll come?”

“Sure. It sounds like fun.” It actually sounds like my personal version of hell, but my response makes her smile and I like how that feels.

“Great! It starts at eight, at the Corner Pin.”

I give her a smile. “I’ll be there.”

And, with a jaunty wave, she’s gone again.

Tune in on Wednesday for Part Eight

© 2018
No part of this may be copied without prior permission from the author. 

The post Midnight Touch — Part Seven appeared first on Draft Edit Publish.

Midnight Touch — Part Six

Cassie

“What did she say to you?” I ask him as we head down the stairs to the front door.

He glances back at me and shrugs. “The usual ‘I know who you are’ speech.”

I don’t know why that makes me frown, but it does. “And does she?”

“Know who I am? Sure … I mean, it’s not hard to figure out. I’m probably the only new face in town.” He drops the suitcase he’d insisted on carrying to the floor and waits for me. “Let me go out first and make sure your ex isn’t waiting.”

“What if he is?”

His smile is a quick baring of teeth. “Oh Goldilocks, I really do hope he is.”

I swear he’s disappointed when he opens the door and Sam isn’t there. We head back to his car and he throws the suitcase on the back seat before opening the passenger door and waiting for me to get in.

Once he’s settled into the driver seat, he glances over at me. “Where are we heading?”

I give him directions to my sister’s house and he pulls away from the kerb. I watch him covertly as he drives. None of the men in my life, except for my dad possibly, would have taken my unexpected appearance in their life as easily as he has. From the moment I showed up in his bedroom, he’s had this air of amusement around him, like he finds me entertaining. For a second, I feel like that should be insulting, but it’s not. I like how he’s dealing with it.

He doesn’t speak, and strangely that doesn’t bother me. The silence feels comfortable and I don’t feel obliged to make conversation. He’s looking straight ahead, concentrating on the road and I can’t help but admire him. He has one hand curved around the wheel, the other arm is propped on the door, elbow resting in the gap where the window would be if it was closed.

My eyes fall to the tattoos covering his arms, again, and the memory of how they also cover one side of his torso flashes before my eyes. I want to paint him. It’s been so long since I’d last painted anything. While Sam had never said anything outright, I knew he hadn’t liked that side of me and I’d tried to tone it down. I’d taken a job at the local bank, and packed away my art supplies.

‘Finally joined the adult world’, Sam had told his friends.

“This the place?” His words broke through my reverie and I blinked.

“Yes,” I confirm.

He parks and climbs out. I wait where I am, knowing he’ll come and open the door. Don’t get me wrong, I’m perfectly capable of getting out of the car myself, but it seems to be an ingrained response for him and, I have to admit, it’s kinda nice.

When he opens the door, he catches me grinning and cocks an eyebrow in query.

I shake my head, take his offered hand and let him help me out of the car. “It’s nothing,” I say once I’m standing beside him. “It’s just cute how you keep opening doors for me.”

He laughs. “My mom would kill me if I didn’t.” A shrug follows his words and he reaches into the backseat and hauls out my case. “Don’t get me wrong, I can be a complete and utter asshole when the mood takes me.” His grin flashes on and off quickly. “And have been many times.”

Without thinking about it, I place a hand on his arm, lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. “Well, you had every reason to be an asshole to me and you haven’t.”

I feel his forearm flex beneath my fingers. “Aww Goldilocks,” he drawls. “You’re gonna make me blush.”

I pull back and punch his shoulder, then yelp at the impact. Eyes dancing, he captures my hand between his and raises it to his lips.

“Let me kiss that better for you.” His lips brush over each of my knuckles, his eyes never leaving mine.

A frisson of electricity shoots through me at his touch and I tug my hand away. “I’ll go make sure Andi is home,” I blurt and almost run up her path.

His laughter follows me.

The door opens before I reach it and my sister is framed in the doorway. The moment I see her, I feel tears form in my eyes and my throat closes up. Spending the last couple of hours with … I still haven’t asked him his name … anyway, the last few hours has kept my thoughts about why I’d ran to the Lodge in the first place at bay, but as soon as I see Andi, it all comes rushing back to me.

She takes one look at my face, her arms open and she rushes forward.

“What did that bastard do now?” she demands. I feel her stiffen against me, and her tone of voice changes to one of awe. “And who the hell is he?”

The chuckle behind me tells me my unnamed driver has caught up to us.

Tune in on Sunday for Part Seven

© 2018
No part of this may be copied without prior permission from the author. 

The post Midnight Touch — Part Six appeared first on Draft Edit Publish.

Midnight Touch — Part Five

Shaun

I don’t answer her straight away. I could give her a hundred ways to change how the story she’s involved in can play out, but I get the feeling at least ninety-nine of them would result in her punching me. So, instead, I smile at her then turn my head to watch the guy … Sam … cross the street, and head in our direction. I reckon we have less than two minutes before he’s going to reach us.

“Are you going to stay in your place or do you have somewhere else to go?” I ask her.

“I can stay at my sister’s,” she replies. She’s also watching Sam’s rapid approach. “I need to get some stuff from the apartment first though.”

“How far from here is it?”

“It’s right there,” she points to the row of windows above the grocery store. “I live above the store.”

“Okay. I’ll come up with you while you pack and take you to your sister’s,” I decide on the course of action even as I speak. “What are you going to do about him?” I incline my head toward Sam, who’s almost at the car.

“I’m going to ignore him.”

The prim tone in her voice makes me laugh as I unbuckle my seatbelt and hop out of the car. In a few quick strides, I’m at the passenger door and have it open before she’s even untangled herself from her own belt.

Reaching into the car I unclip the belt for her and hold out a hand, offering to help her out. When she looks up at me, a question in her eyes, I smile.

“It’s all about changing the narrative, remember.” Her look changes to one of determination and she grasps my hand and exits the car.

“Cassie!” The guy – Sam – calls from behind us. At least I know her name now, something I probably should have found out earlier, but never mind.

Cassie ignores him, continuing on a steady path toward the door just to the left of the grocery store’s entrance. I keep myself between her and Sam, angling my stance so that when she pauses to unlock the door, he can’t get to her. We go inside and I kick the door shut behind me, hopefully in his face.

I follow Cassie up a flight of stairs, then another pause while she unlocks the second door and we enter the apartment.

“Make yourself at home,” she tells me, waving a hand toward a couch that has definitely seen better days. It’s clean enough and covered with a bright yellow throw but it looks like if I sat on it it’d break under my weight, so I follow her and lean against the doorframe of what, I assume, is her bedroom.

Her bedroom is an explosion of colour. I honestly have no way to describe it other than to say it looks like someone grabbed the brightest paint they could find and just threw it at the walls. There are yellows, greens, reds and blues everywhere.

My eyes shift to Cassie who is standing in front of the dresser. The drab outfit she’s wearing doesn’t match the insanity of her bedroom.

“Were you high when you decorated?” I ask, and she jumps.

“I thought you were in the living room,” she says, spinning round and I shrug.

“You were in my bedroom, only thought it was fair I get to see yours.”

“I said I was sorry!”

I hear the front door open and turn my head slightly to see another woman enter. This one’s a brunette, probably the roommate. From the look on Cassie’s face, she heard her too.

“Goldilocks,” I raise my voice to make sure the newcomer hears me. “You were standing there eyefucking me, there’s no way you’re sorry.” Yeah, I’m an asshole, but if it works it works.

“I was looking at your tattoos!” She gapes at me.

“Sure … sure … that’s what they all say. Do you have any tattoos? Think it’s only fair you show me.”  I wink and her eyes slide over my shoulder. I’m pretty sure her roommate is standing behind me.

“I only saw them because you came out of the bathroom naked, not even a towel around your waist,” she chides me, and I grin at her.

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh my god, get out!” She slings a pillow at me and I laugh, catching it.

“Fine, I’ll wait out here. But I want to see those tattoos! Don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t answer me.” I back out of the room and close the door, then turn to face the roommate.

She’s standing in the centre of the living room, her lips turned down and eyes narrowed at me. She’s pretty enough, but there’s a pinched look around her mouth that I don’t like.

“Hi,” I keep my voice casual and head over to the danger-couch, easing down onto it gingerly.

“I know you.”

Well, okay then. Gonna be like that, is it?

“I get that a lot,” I tell her.

She turns to the coffee table, rummages around amongst the magazines, then opens one and throws it onto my lap.

“Like I said, I know you.”

I look down at the picture of me and DJ. The photo had caught us as we were both leaving the hospital. I actually look sober, so that’s something. DJ looks tired and his arm is thrown across my shoulders. I remember the day that picture was taken. It was two months into rehab, after my collapse. DJ had got the nurses to agree to let me out for the day.

“What would the papers say if I told them you were in town?”

Her voice drags me out of my memories and I glance up at her with a smile. “Not as much as they’d say when I told them how I was helping out a friend whose roommate had fucked her boyfriend on the kitchen table while she was at work.” I make a point of tapping the picture of me in the magazine. “These things love a ‘bad boy does good’ story.” I lean back, draping my arms across the back of the couch. “And, more to the point, these magazines love me. So, if you want to contact them, be my guest. Just remember when the shit hits the fan, you started it.”

We’re trading glares in silence when Cassie returns. She glances at me, then at her roommate, then back at me.

“I’m ready,” she tells me.

“Cassie,” her roommate moves to block her path. “We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing you can say to me that will fix what you did,” Cassie responds. Her eyes catch mine. “Are you coming?”

“Not yet,” I remark, “but the day’s not over yet.”

The roommate glares at me again but Cassie… man, she just shakes her head at me and laughs and that’s when I notice she’s changed her clothes. She no longer looks like a librarian. Now she looks like a girl who wouldn’t be out of place at one of my concerts. Skin-tight jeans and a t-shirt that moulds itself to her curves … and, oh boy, those curves are a wet dream just waiting to happen.

I’m suddenly really glad she broke into my home. Does that make me shallow? So shoot me, I don’t give a fuck.

Tune in on Wednesday for Part Six

© 2018
No part of this may be copied without prior permission from the author. 

The post Midnight Touch — Part Five appeared first on Draft Edit Publish.

Midnight Touch — Part Four

Cassie

The Grand Cherokee parked at the back of the lodge looks like it received a paintjob from the person who’d done my unwilling host’s tattoos. Instead of a plain colour, it sports similar patterns and colours to the ones on his arms – making it bold and brash and just as eye-catching as the man who owned it.

He stops by the passenger door and pulls it open, then steps back and waits for me to climb in.

“There’s really no need,” I try again to convince him to let me just walk back.

“Don’t bother,” he grins, slams the door and heads round to the driver’s side. “Why don’t you want to go back?” he asks as he settles into his seat and turns on the engine. “You might as well tell me. I’ll find out eventually, anyway.”

“Who’s going to tell you?” I can’t help but snap. “You’re a stranger.”

He cocks an eyebrow and smirks. “Yeah, but it’s a small town and everyone knows they’re the worst for spreading gossip.” The grin falls away as he concentrates on turning the huge SUV around. “It’s always better if the rumours people hear are the ones you can control.”

There’s a tone in his voice, something odd, almost like he’s speaking from experience and I’m tempted to ask him. Manners kick in, though, and I stay quiet. He doesn’t press and we spend the next few minutes in silence as he manoeuvres the beast of a car down the narrow wanna-be road.

My eyes drop to where his hands rest on the steering wheel, fingers tapping to a tune only he can hear and I can feel my lips tip up into a smile. My dad used to do that when a song was stuck in his head.

“What song is it?”

“Huh?” His eyes cut to me before returning to the road.

“What song has your fingers dancing?”

He glances down, then grins. “Ahhh right. I doubt it’s one you’ll know.”

“Why? Because I’m a small-town girl?”

His grin widens and it transforms his face from handsome to downright gorgeous, his eyes crinkling at the corners and sparkling with laughter. “No, because you’re … “ a hand lifts from the steering wheel to wave vaguely in my direction. “Well, you look like a librarian, Goldilocks.”

“And librarians don’t like music, is that what you’re implying?” I demand, pretending outrage.

He barks a laugh “No, sweetheart, but librarians probably listen to Mozart, Beethoven and shit.”

“Wow, you’re stereotyping.”

“I’m not.”

“You so are! Also, I’m not a librarian.”

“No, you’re an home intruder.” He smirks in my direction. “You probably listen to mood music.”

“Mood music? I don’t even know what that is!” I laugh.

“You know … the music you put on to get you in the mood for whatever nefarious plan you are thinking about.” He drags a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes.

“I didn’t have much of a plan, nefarious or otherwise,” I tell him.

“Ahhh, so you admit it, you do listen to mood music!”

“No.”

“No? Don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who screams after boybands.” He presses a hand against his chest. “I don’t think my heart could take that.”

I laugh again, feeling my mood lighten at his teasing. “You got it,” I tell him.

“You dance around your kitchen, don’t you? Pretending the broom is a microphone.”

“Yep.” I belt out the chorus from one of the current pop songs, purposely hitting the wrong notes.

He doesn’t even try to hide his wince. “I should have gone with my gut and called the police. “

“For what?”

“Crimes against music.”

I sing louder, then splutter into laughter when he cringes at a screeched high note.

He watches me out of the corner of his eye for a moment or two, then as my giggles subside he speaks again. “The song is called My Drug of Choice.”

I consider the title, seeing if I can place it within my memory, but I can’t … and he knows it. I can tell by the smile he sends in my direction.

“Well?” he asks.

“Sure, it’s by that band…. You know…” I bluff.

He snorts. “You have no idea!”

“You don’t know that!”

“I kinda do.” He flicks the turn signal lever and I realise we’re within the town limits. “Where do you want dropping?”

“I’ll get out wherever you’re parking. I can walk from there.”

He nods and silence returns to the car. We head down Main Street and a minute later, he’s pulling up outside the local grocery store.

Of course, it’s just my luck that Sam is coming out of the bank opposite as the car comes to a stop, and I can’t stop a groan.

“He the guy who sent you running to my house?”

He’s quick on the uptake, I have to give him that and I decide it’s not even worth trying to make up a lie.

“Yeah. He’s my ex as of,” I look at the time on the dashboard, “four hours ago.”

“What did he do?”

“My roommate.” The words burn like acid as they fall from my mouth.

“You catch him?” He doesn’t miss a beat and I nod.

“I walked in on them. I left work early and was supposed to meet him for dinner, so went home to change. They were at it on the kitchen table when I walked through the door.”

He turns his head to watch Sam cross the road. “What are you going to do?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I just had to get out, so I headed to the Lodge. I’d completely forgotten my mom had sold it.”

He unclips his belt and twists in the seat to face me. “Well Goldilocks, you have two choices. You either let him get away with it, or you burn that fucker to the ground.”

“You don’t think it’s my roommate’s fault?” I have to admit I was kind of expecting him to blame her.

He shrugs. “What did he do? Slip and land with his dick buried inside her? Takes two to screw up, sweetheart. If she came onto him and he didn’t want her, you wouldn’t have found him balls-deep, would you?”

I feel my cheeks burn at his crudeness, but he’s right. There’s no excuse Sam can give me that I’ll believe.

“What are you going to do about it?”

His question makes me pause as I unclip my own belt. “What do you mean?”

“Like I said earlier, you want to be in control of any rumour being whispered about you. Do you want him to have control of it or you?”

“Everyone loves Sam,” I tell him. “They’ll believe him.”

“So change the script.”

I’m almost afraid to ask the question that’s hovering on my lips. “How?”

Tune in for Part Five on Sunday

© 2018
No part of this may be copied without prior permission from the author. 

The post Midnight Touch — Part Four appeared first on Draft Edit Publish.

Snippet Sunday

It’s Sunday Evening, so how do you feel about ending the week with a sneak peak into book 3 of the Dark Legacy series? WIP snippets are always unedited, and liable to change!

Morgan waited for the door to open and then dashed toward it, only to find Taz between her and her escape. She crashed into him, unable to stop her forward momentum and the impact felt like hitting a brick wall.

She stepped backward, her eyes flicking over his shoulder at the door closing behind him, sealing them both inside the room. He folded his arms across his chest, his stance exuding domination and power.

Morgan took another step away, hoping Taz would take the bait and follow her. She hid her smile when he did, moving away from the door. She waited for the opportunity, for him to be far enough away for her to have a chance to open it. Another step toward her and she bolted, racing toward the door.

He lunged forward and grabbed her around the waist.

“You’re not fast enough, sweetheart.”

He shifted his grip and swung her up and over his shoulder, the air leaving her lungs in a gasp. Morgan burst into movement, kicking, pinching, biting, scratching at his neck and face.

“Stop it,” he growled, which only succeeded in making Morgan redouble her efforts, twisting and snarling in her attempt to make him drop her.

His hand connected with her ass hard – once, twice, a third time — startling her into stillness

“I said stop it.”

He strode toward the door. Morgan stayed still, her breathing shallow, warily watching as his hand reached out to turn the handle and open the door. He walked through it, without pause, and carried her down the hallway and into a darkened room at the end.

The room spun as Taz raised her up and tossed her backwards, and Morgan landed in the centre of a bed. He watched as she bounced then started to rise to her knees.

“Before you attack me again, just remember the harder you fight me, the more turned on I get.”

The breath hissed between her teeth. “I never believed you were such a sick bastard.”

He laughed. “I’ve never hidden the fact fighting with you makes me horny.”

If you haven’t read the first two books in the series, now’s the time to grab them!

https://www.amazon.com/L-Ann/e/B078RK64FJ/

 

The post Snippet Sunday appeared first on Draft Edit Publish.

Midnight Touch — Part Three

Shaun

She looks like how I’d imagine a librarian to look. Blouse buttoned to the throat, black pants and flat no-nonsense pumps. All she needs is a pair of glasses perched on the end of her nose and a stern expression.  What she doesn’t look like is a groupie.

We’re in the kitchen. She’s perched on a stool by the breakfast bar, I’m leaning up against the refrigerator. She claims her parents used to own this place, it might be true. I didn’t handle the sale. I have people to do that kind of thing for me. That doesn’t mean she hasn’t purposely come here to find me. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve come out of the shower and found a woman in my bedroom, or even my bed.

The way she’s dressed though? That whole librarian vibe she’s rocking? That suggests her story has more truth in it than lie.

“Why were you running through the woods?” I break the silence and watch as her eyes up jerk to meet mine. I nod toward her feet. “I’m gonna guess it wasn’t planned?”

She shakes her head, but doesn’t answer my questions, so I push away from the refrigerator and move across the room.  Her eyes are on me again, watching as I advance closer. She says nothing when I pull out another stool and sit down beside her. I rest one arm on the top of the breakfast bar and her gaze drops to look at the tattoos snaking around my forearm.

She’d done the same thing upstairs. I could track down to the second when she stopped looking at my tattoos and started noticing I was naked. I stifle a grin and tap the countertop with my fingers.

“I locked the door after I arrived. How did you get in? My lawyer requested all the keys.”

“Dad kept a key hidden in the rockery outside.” She sounds distracted.

I think she’s focused on my tattoos, so I shift my arm. Sure enough, her eyes track the movement and I can’t help but chuckle. That gets her attention and her spine stiffens as she straightens and looks up at me.

“You like my tattoos?”

The immediate colour spreading across her cheeks is fascinating

“I’m sorry,” she apologies. “The design is fascinating.”

I stretch out my arm and look down at it. The tattoos start just below the knuckles and weave all around my arm – a riotous mass of colours, they look like they’re in no particular order or pattern, but they have been drawn in such a way to keep the eyes moving, following the ebb and flow of the design. I flip my arm over so she can see it covers all the skin and I’m sure I see the fingers of her hand twitch.

Does she want to touch me?

I’m not getting any kind of seduction vibe from her. Her attention is completely welded to the tattoos. Either this girl has a tattoo fetish or … or what? I can’t fucking think of anything else it can be.

“Are they the same on both arms?” She asks, and twists around to look at where my other arm is resting on my thigh.

I lift it up, holding it out palm-upwards. “Not really. Same principle, no pattern.”

This is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had with an intruder and, yeah, I’ve had a few of both in my time. I should be driving her back into town, get her out of here but there’s a story here. Something made her walk five miles into the forest surrounding the town.

“Are you ready to go back to town?” I ask and she isn’t quite quick enough to mask a flinch at the question. That’s a no then, I think to myself. I let my hand drop back to my lap. “Come on, Goldilocks, spill. Why are you out in the woods?”

She smiles a little and tips her head back to look me in the face. Her eyes are blue, like cornflowers. I mentally file that away. What? I’m a songwriter, things like that can be handy.

“I can walk back,” she says then, completely ignoring my question

I frown. “No way! I’ve got enough shit going on without risking a murder charge when they find your body in the morning.“ Rising to my feet, I nod toward the door. “Let’s go. I have to grab some supplies anyway. I’ll drop you off on the way.”

Tune in next Sunday for Part Four

© 2018
No part of this may be copied without prior permission from the author. 

The post Midnight Touch — Part Three appeared first on Draft Edit Publish.

Phoenix — A Poem

I wrote this a long long time ago (over 15 years), but thought I’d share it — for strong women everywhere!

 

The hurricane is raging, tearing, savaging with spite,

Ripping into buildings, throwing debris out of sight.

Twisting and contorting, spitting anger, hurling hate!

Why can’t I express myself with passion too, of late?

But passion, what the hell is that? Shouldn’t it be give and take?

I need to claw my way out of here, if only for my sake.

Where’s my fire? My inner flame? Did someone stamp it out?

When did I exchange this little whisper for my loudest shout?

What happened to that little girl who would never bend?

I guess that little girl grew old, and battered in the end!

She got so tired of speaking out, trying to be heard,

No one listened when she spoke, no one really cared.

So sad and tired and weak with tears, discarded on the floor

I rested there until I found I needed rest no more!

And now I’m back and angry cos it isn’t fair and so

You’d better watch out world! Cos now I’m finally gonna grow!

I’m gonna tear this place apart, I’m gonna show you all

I’ll climb the highest mountain and Ill never fall!

I’ll get a purple hat and wear it every day with pride

And when the wind is blowing I’ll be raging at its side!

I’ll tear down all your fences, and your stupid rules and when

I’ve finished, I’ll go and find what I believed back then.

I’ll believe in dragons if I want to, I’ll have an invisible pal

I’ll talk to fairies in the garden, if want to then I shall!

I used to think I mattered! I used to think you cared!

I used to know that I was me, and love had to be shared.

I knew just what it was to love, with passion and abandon

I had ideals and dreams and goals, like heirlooms I could hand on.

As a child I was a princess, waiting for my prince to call

But he never got to me, I didn’t dance at the ball

And all the things I wanted, and the good intentions brave

And all the time I had to do them, ere I reached the grave!

Why didn’t someone tell me? Oh, but I would never hear!

How fast it rushes past you, every sneaky rotten year!

You blink and you miss it, oh how that saying is true

The problem was when I blinked, I ended up with you!

Traitorous time, I rage against thee! Get thee from this place!

Give me the power of hurricane to throw back in your face!

For I am woman, strong and good! I may be weathered too,

But tougher for the dirty tricks I learned direct from you!

You didn’t think I’d make it, you wanted me to drown

But now instead of fear, I laugh every time you frown

So take yourself away from me, leave me to myself

I was always pale and ill, you took away my health

But now I’m strong, a woman proud, head held high and free

I’ve found my place, my love, my pride, you can’t take that from me!

You’ve lost the fight, Ive won the war, you’re beaten through and through

Instead of wearing me down with hate, I’m done, I’m through with you!

The post Phoenix — A Poem appeared first on Draft Edit Publish.

#Cockygate — a breakdown

I’ve been following #Cockygate since the story broke back in early May. I wasn’t going to write a blog post about it, but due to quite a few people asking me for updates inside a number of Facebook groups, I decided a blog post would be the easiest way for me to keep track of what’s going on, instead of me posting the same information in a variety of places.

I’m going to post up a timeline of events, as best as I can make out (there’s a lot of information out there and it’s very jumbled in places).

The Timeline

2016-present day  — Faleena Hopkins releases a series of books seemingly called The Cocker Brothers of Atlanta. These books all relate to a family with the surname Cocker and are classified as romance and all have the word “Cocky” in the title.
April 17, 2018 — The United States Patent and Trademark Office issues a registration certificate to Trademark Reg. No. 5447836, for “COCKY,” for the following goods: In IC 009: A series of downloadable e-books in the field of romance. IC 016: A series of books in the field of romance. Unlike the previous registration, this is a standard character mark registration.
May 1, 2018 — The United States Patent and Trademark Office issues a registration certificate to Trademark Reg. No. 5458137, for “COCKY,” for the following goods: In IC 009: A series of downloadable e-books in the field of romance. IC 016: A series of books in the field of romance. This second trademark is for the word ‘COCKY’ in a stylised format, using a font by the font designer Set Sail.  It looks like this:-

May 5, 2018 (approx) — People start seeing tweets querying whether the word cocky has been trademarked and is no longer allowed to be used.
May 5, 2018 — Jamila Jasper tweets that she has received a Cease & Desist letter from Faleena Hopkins:-

The message I received from “Cocky Gate”. #freecocky #cockygate #rwa pic.twitter.com/HzAr4Qr9Ii

— Jamila Jasper (@JamilaJasper) May 5, 2018

5/6 May 2018 — After Jamila tweets about the C&D, the story explodes on Twitter, earning the hashtag #Cockygate. News comes out that there may have been more than one C&D sent out.
5 May, 2018 - It is discovered that the stylised font included with the Trademark states in its TOS that you cannot trademark any item using it. People reach out to the designer for further information/to inform him.
6 May, 2018 — The RWA requests that anyone who has received a C&D should contact them.
6 May, 2018 —  Kevin Kneupper, a retired attorney, files a Petition to have the Trademark Cancelled.

Below is a link to my challenge to the “cocky” trademark. #CockyGate

The highly respected Trademark Trial and Appeal Board of the USPTO now has the issue before it and will decide whether the trademark of “cocky” should be invalidated!https://t.co/iNKCzPEtNR

— Kevin Kneupper (@kneupperwriter) May 7, 2018

7 May, 2018 (approx)  - Authors start to report that books are being removed from Amazon which have the word ‘Cocky’ in the title.
5–8 May, 2018 (approx) — Faleena updates her twitter, apparently mocking the people worrying about her Trademark and her actions:-

8 May, 2018 (approx) — Faleena posts a video (1 hour and 40 minutes) onto her Facebook page to justify her actions. She subsequently deletes it a short while later, along with her Facebook Page. Too late- copies have been taken and are available elsewhere:-

 

This is where tracking things start to get confusing, so I’ll just list things — I can’t promise they’re in the exact order.

Faleena makes a post on her blog about her latest book, and states she deleted her video because she should know better than to video while drinking whiskey. .

Faleena makes a post in her private FB group requesting people send her anonymous reports of times they’ve been confused and bought someone else’s book instead of hers:-

She decides to sue three people — Kevin Kneupper who has filed to have her Trademark cancelled; Tara Crescent, an author who uses ‘cocky’ in her book titles; and Jennifer Watson, a publicist helping to promote a book called Cocktales (more on that later). Kevin Kneupper shared a link to the documentation on his twitter.

Thread for the new #cockygate legal docs. First up is Plaintiff’s Memorandum of Law in support of request for a preliminary injunction and restraining order. A hearing on this is set for next Friday.https://t.co/8iUhRwMYTb

— Kevin Kneupper (@kneupperwriter) May 26, 2018

 

She posts in her group giving her version of why she’s done this:-

She follows this up with a blog post to say because “moles” are sharing her private posts, she’ll be writing a public post explaining why she trademarked ‘cocky’

The internet waits with baited breath for the follow-up post, while also waiting for the Court Hearing, which is set for 1st June.
Somewhere within all this, Set Sail sends Faleena Hopkins a Cease & Desist letter for his font usage — as far as I can tell, nothing has come from this as yet.
Faleena writes her blog post the day before the Court Hearing. I’ll need to link to that as it’s long (don’t say I didn’t warn you) http://faleenahopkins.blogspot.com/20...
June 1st — the court convenes. I’m going to post a link to the transcript here, which was purchased by Courtney Milan on behalf of everyone — all thanks should go to her.  http://www.courtneymilan.com/cockydoc...
The Judge removes Kevin from the case, effectively allowing his petition to cancel to continue moving forward. He sets a date in September for a Fact Finding Hearing.

So now we wait.

 

Okay, so that’s a brief (I know it was a lot) barebones breakdown of events (if I’ve missed out anything, or have got something wrong, please let me know in the comments).

This is quite a long post, so at this point I’m going to link to existing posts/twitter accounts that go deeper into the whys, what the hells and what-have-you’s much better than I can.

Marc Whipple is an attorney who has been giving his opinion on #Cockygate — and must be thanked for breaking the court documents, in particular, into terminology everyone can understand.  He has written two posts (so far) http://legalinspiration.com/?p=503 and http://legalinspiration.com/?p=538

These following links are to Twitter Threads to start you on your own exploratory journey into #Cockygate. It is, by no means, exhaustive. There have been many many people reporting on the issue and thanks should be sent out to them all.

So. Let’s talk about Falina’s brand. #cockygate

— Romancing the Nope (@RomancingNope) June 2, 2018

Transcript of the #cockygate hearing:https://t.co/9FxOz6DmBN

— Courtney!!! Milan