Sommer Marsden's Blog, page 20

A Many Splintered Thing / Day 16: "I tend to build walls—okay villages—around myself to keep people away.”

 Did you know we're at over 21,000 words? Wow. How time flies when you're writing a book with friends along for the ride. Hope you're enjoying yourself. And your Friday.

XOXO
Sommer
p.s. How gorgeous is that picture!? I want to go there, sit in a lawn chair and drink wine as I watch the sky shift and change.




Dahlia
Jesus, what do you say to that? You can’t fuck with a person who admits that what they felt at some point was the closest thing he’d known to love. It would be an asshole move to say the least. Especially since she had absolutely no doubt he was being sincere. By the way he moved restlessly around the room, the way the muscles in his shoulders, neck and jaw bunched with tension.
She wasn’t oblivious to the fact that Jasmine could have her charms. And sometimes her sheer awfulness—a trait which reared its head fairly normally—could be part of her magic. She was definitely a dazzling creature to people who had no idea what it was like to be spoiled.
“You’re not an asshole,” he laughed. “Just nosy. As am I. We’re supposed to be making the bed springs scream right now. At least that’s what poor clueless Harrison thinks.”
“He’s not as clueless as you think,” she said. She spoke fast to make herself ignore the fact that when Caleb, big-big Caleb whose energy seemed to be filling the room like an invisible force, mentioned bed springs her body reacted.
He cocked an eyebrow, a trait she found annoyingly appealing on him. “No?”
“Nope. He knew he was going to get to her with the maids. The poor sap is hopelessly in love with her, you know. He only did it to get her riled up. I don’t think he figured she’d call you.”
“Do you think he knows whyshe called me?”
She shrugged and became aware of what it did to her breasts when his eyes settled there. “I don’t know. There’s a chance he does. There’s a chance he doesn’t.”
He looked at her face and blew out a sigh, but then his eyes drifted down again.
“Can I help you?” she asked, laughing.
Again that eyebrow went up and he groaned. “That, my dear fake soul mate, is a loaded question. I can think of a thousand and one ways I’d like for you to help me.”
“You’re very shy, aren’t you?” She sipped her drink, keeping her eyes pinned to his.
“Painfully, so.”
Dead silence and then they were both laughing. Alice lifted her head, looked from one to the other, and put her head back down. She’d acclimated to her new home rather fast, Dahlia thought.
He scratched his head and tilted his head back. “I’m sorry,” he said to the ceiling. “I came here for one woman who railroaded me into her bizarre psychosis. Then you walked in and I felt like Wile E. Coyote when his eyeballs do that bug out vibrating thing.”
She couldn’t help but smile. He was bold, but by God he was honest. And she loved that above all other things.
“Do tell.”
“I am telling!” he said, raising an arm in frustration. “And you’re all whiskey drinking, cowboy boot wearing, dog loving, food bringing and just…” He lowered his gaze to look right at her. “Hot as hell. I barely know you but I like you. And I feel okay around you. Which sounds like a half-assed compliment but it’s actually full-assed.”
She smirked, raising her glass to her mouth to try and shield it. Dahlia didn’t think it worked, though.“How so?”
“I don’t…jibe with a lot of people.”
“And why is that?” she asked. “Let me get my invisible notepad and pen since I’m playing therapist.”
He grinned at her. Her stomach dropped like an elevator and she almost sucked in a breath but managed to squelch it. Thank god. She didn’t need him to know he had any kind of effect on her. At all. That was private.
“Probably because I started our rough right out of the gate and I tend to build walls—okay villages—around myself to keep people away.”
“So for the woman you almost loved for real you picked the most spoiled abrasive woman on earth?” She chuckled.
He scratched his forehead. “My god. I never thought of that. Maybe that was intentional, eh? Thanks, Dr. Freud.”
“I shudder to think what that says about me if you find me easy to be with.”
“I don’t know. Good things, I hope. That’s the thing. I find myself telling you stuff.”
“It’s the whiskey,” she said, giving him an out.
No it’s not.
“No it’s not,” he said, echoing her thoughts. “It’s you. Which is a little unnerving. But I can live with unnerving. By the way it would take a lot more whiskey for it to be the whiskey.”
“You can drink, hunh?”
“I can,” he said, buffing his nails on his shirt. “Not to brag.”
“But you will.”
She watched as his face fell. Shit. It was like watching storm clouds move in on a vibrant day.
“I think it’s genetic,” he said. His face had gotten so serious. “My old man could drink his way through a bar shelf and then drive home. Well,” He winked. “To hear him tell it.”
“Something tells me though you sound jokey it’s not a joking matter.”
He shook his head. “Nope. Not really. He was a cop. You know the cliché cop of the movies, I’m sure. Looks like the good guy but under it all maybe isn’t so good. Maybe drinks too much, maybe beats on his wife when it’s convenient—but knows how to do it without getting caught. Or!” He held up a finger, his tone again jovial but his expression anything but.
Her stomach turned over fast and she thought she might be sick. She put her whiskey down and tried to breathe deeply. She’d touched a nerve, Dahlia realized. Which was surprising to her because when she first saw him standing there with Jasmine she’d have sworn in court the man had no nerves to touch. Cool as a cucumber. He seemed like a guy who got his way, liked to swing his big dick, and run roughshod through the world.
This was a surprise. And something in her softened for him. Ached for him.
“Or, if your wife finally withdraws to the point that it’s just no fun to pound on her anymore, you can move on to the kid.”
She shook her head. “Jesus. I’m sorry.” It made her hands shake. They had something in common. Something she had no interest in admitting or discussing.
He seemed to come back to himself. He laughed but it had a bitter undertone. “Wow, you’re like a witch or something. Do you practice mind control? Maybe you’re a mesmerist?” He was trying to make light of it.
“Sorry, nope. Just boring old me.”
“I’ve never told anyone that before,” he said. “Willingly.
She sized him up and then picked up the bottle and poured them both a drink. “Not a witch or any of those other things. But I can tell you that the best way to get know someone—especially your make believe beloved—“ He snorted and she nodded. “Is to get drunk with them. So…you up for killing the bottle?”
He glanced at the dog. “What do you say, Alice?” They waited in silence as the dog sat and stared at him, ears perked. Then he turned to her and said, “She said yes.”  

photo credit: heanster via photopin cc

A Many Splintered Thing / Day 15: "...that would make me a real asshole, don’t you think?”

Day 15 and the beat goes on. We roll along...
~~~~~~
He knew he was wrong to do it. You weren’t supposed to get off like a teenager when someone was out walking your dog. And yet, he couldn’t seem to help it. Getting himself taken care of seemed a necessity at the moment. Like eating, showering, sleeping. He needed to do it or he’d never be able to be around this woman or have a conversation without intermittently sporting wood. No matter what he did, his mind kept returning, over and over again, to that kiss. To that moment she gave in. To him.
Gave in. To him.
He shook the water out of his hair and gripped his cock. It wasn’t going to take long. “Fit to pop, fit to pop,” he muttered, shutting his eyes to the spray as he stroked himself roughly right out of the gate.
Caleb pressed his left arm to the wall, pushed his forehead against his arm. Kept his eye shut tight to block out the world. His hand going up and down his shaft was both mesmerizing and not quite good enough. But it would have to do, so he forced himself deeper into the memory. The moment her lips softened. The moment her tongue touched his for just a millisecond. The moment her limbs went loose and her body relaxed and he could tell she was lost to the kiss.
That moment.
And then he let his mind run with it and he was parting her legs, knocking them wide, running his cock along her wetness. Staring at those three deep scars now bared to him, disappearing somewhere in the beautiful cleavage that hid beneath that black tank top. And his mind carried him forward. Forward into her, over her, lost with her.
All the bullshit soap opera script craziness fell away and it was him and Dahlia. Her blue eyes wide, her dark hair loose and fanned out, her lips parted and her body arching up under his.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispered as he came.
Simultaneously, the dog barked outside the bathroom and a fist pounded the door. Caleb jumped. “Stop diddling yourself and come out. Mary up in the kitchen sent back enchiladas. Herenchiladas. Homemade. They are magical…mystical. They’re better than sex. And you have five minutes to get out here or I’m eating yours.”
And then he could tell by the shift in the energy that she was gone.
He shook his head, his hands shaking in sympathy or from the adrenaline rush he wasn’t sure which. “Coming,” he whispered. And then he laughed.
*
He grunted.
“Told you,” she said. Dahlia put another forkful in her mouth and rolled her eyes. “Better than sex.”
Caleb mumbled around his own mouthful of enchilada. “You’re having sex with the wrong people then.” He looked into her unamused face and shrugged. “But close. They’re definitely a close second.”
He finished his enchilada, took a swig of ice tea and then a sip of a whiskey she’d poured. “So, when Jasmine called me to come down here she said Harrison was fucking the maid. That would be you?”
He realized he was holding his breath, hoping she’d say no. How embarrassing.
Dahlia tipped her head back and her braids danced as she laughed long and loud. He watched her, feeling himself smile. Apparently he was way off on this one.
Finally, she straightened up and took a deep breath. “Um…no. That would be the extended staff who come in to help me. This place is a handful but I prefer to do it alone. It’s a long, hard day of work but I like long, hard days of work. They keep you honest. Physical labor is as Zen as I get.”
He raised his glass to that but kept silent.
“When they have guests come for extended stay or a large party, they bring in auxiliary staff to help me out. And that, I welcome. This was Harrison tip-toeing through the tulips. Actually, her name was Rose. The other one was named Willow which is a tree, not a flower, but you get my little joke there. See, even their maids are pretentious.” She winked at him.
It went straight to his cock. So he took more whiskey and let it sit on his tongue before swallowing it down.
“So, tell me, loverboy. I know why I’d roll over and do her bidding, she can fire me if she gets it in her head to. But you? Why did you come all the way down here at her beck and call? Is she that good of a lay? I have a hard time imagining it.”
He shook his head. “Well, first, you’d be wrong. She’s pretty good in the sack. And by the way, you just answered one of my questions. If you two had ever…” He twiddled his fingers at her until she snorted.
“Fucked? No. I’ll explain me and Jas another day. For now you tell me about her magical vagina and why it was worth a trip from Boston.”
“Baltimore.”
“I stand corrected.”
“And not really Baltimore proper. I was on the shore. But you get the idea.”
“I do. A hell of a pussy for that kind of trip.”
He grunted again. Considered another enchilada and realized it would be a huge mistake. He was stuffed. He stood, to give himself something to do, and found the plastic wrap in a drawer on the fourth try.
“Did I make you uncomfortable?”
“A little,” he said. He hated it, too. He was used to being the person who made other people uncomfortable.
“Was it my use of the word pussy?”
“Nope.” He put the pan in the fridge and refilled both their glasses of tea. Odd, but he was getting rather domesticated already. Maybe it was the dog.
“Then…?” She left the question open. He watched her stretch out her long, long legs and put her feet on one of the kitchen chairs.
“It’s a hard question to answer. I’m not sure why. I mean, yeah, there are other women to have sex with in the world. Some of them can put her to shame. But…” A sudden rush of anxiety filled his chest at the shift the conversation had taken. It startled him into taking a deep breath.
She waved a hand. “Sorry, you don’t have to tell me. Sorry I asked. None of my business.”
“No, it’s fine.” He sat. “I didn’t realize my reasoning until you asked.” He fidgeted with the salt and pepper shakers. “I guess she’s the closest thing I’ve known to actual love.”
He looked at her and she looked back. Dahlia’s eyes were amazing. Especially when she was thinking of what she should say.
“Well, damn. I can’t make a joke out of that, can I?”
“Well, you could.” He chuckled softly, drank more whiskey.
“Yeah, I could, but that would make me a real asshole, don’t you think?” 


photo credit: Katie Ring via photopin cc

A Many Splintered Thing / Day 14: "That went well, don’t you think? I pissed off two different women at once but for entirely different reasons."

I really, really didn't think today would happen. I'm very tired. Not sure why. Just dragging and dragging. But then I sat down to do some words and magically the words came. Even more magically, some of tomorrow's words arrived too. LOL. So below is today's offering. Please read to the bottom for a special message.

Thanks and ❤️
Sommer

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Day 14

The moment the front door snicked shut she shot out of his arms like a wet fish. She put the aviators back on, her black braids swinging indignantly as she marched from the room.
“Was the kiss that bad?” he called, throwing his hands up.
“Asshole!” she said. The front door opened and then slammed.
Caleb ran a hand through his hair and laughed. He sank down on the sofa and untied his boots and took them off. If he had the rest of the day off, he was getting comfortable. In his duffel bag he had a pair of shorts. If he could just muster up the energy to get up and rifle through it.
Alice came over, tail wagging, ears perked. He stretched out on the sofa, overjoyed to the point of near weeping to be lying down on something soft. She put her head on his belly and stared at him.
“I can’t let you up here. Something tells me this is a no-puppies-allowed sofa. But I will scratch your head.” He began to run his fingers up and down her dark snout. Her eyes drifted shut and her tail thumped. “Wow, if only all the females in my life had this wonderful reaction to my attentions.”
She sighed.
“That went well, don’t you think? I pissed off two different women at once but for entirely different reasons. I think that was a hidden talent and now I know about it.” He shut his eyes. He was very tired. Too tired. He hadn’t been so heavy-limbed exhausted in a long, long time.
Alice, the best therapist ever, continued to rest her head on him and allow his loving attention to soothe her. So Caleb kept talking. It felt perfectly natural to unburden himself to a dog. Why hadn’t he gotten one before now?
“And God help me, Al, but I actually thought Harrison wasn’t too much of a huge douche bag. So…I think under different circumstances and maybe in an alternate universe I could like him. But don’t tell anyone.”
She sighed again.
Caleb heard the front door open and he froze. Alice gave a soft rumble that said, What are you doing? Pet me!
“Shh.” She shushed.
He heard boots clacking on the floor and suppressed the initial urge to sit up straight. She was back.She sauntered in holding a bottle.
He smirked at her, he could tell it was his jerk face but was unable to control it. “You came back. I thought you’d left for good.”
She dropped to the armchair and pulled off her boots. Then she took off her short socks, balled them up and tossed them toward the hallway that branched off the living room. “Well, sorry to break it to you, loverboy, but I live here. So I’m not leaving for good any time soon.”
She called the dog and Alice promptly switched her attentions the newcomer, putting her head in Dahlia’s lap.
“Traitor,” Caleb growled.
Dahlia’s laugh was genuine as she patted Alice. Finally, she sighed and picked up the bottle from the table and waved it in Caleb’s general direction. “Interested?”
Caleb rolled to his side. “Well, I’m no wine expert but that doesn’t look like wine. That, my new roomie, looks like whiskey.”
“That’s because it is whiskey. Now, I’m only asking once more. Interested?”
He stretched, hearing his joints creak and something snap. She winced and he grinned. “Sure. But I need to find some food to go with it.” He got to his feet and followed her. He tried very hard to keep his eyes off her ass and failed miserably. To make up for it he said, “Sorry about the kiss.”
“No you’re not.” She entered the kitchen with him on her heels. Her bare feet barely made a sound on the floor.
“No. I’m not. Busted.”
“What do you want?” she asked, opening the fridge. “There’s leftover from the last two nights. The chefs make staff meals. You can have a pork chop or some chili. Or you can raid the freezer. That’s all stuff I bought. I eat like a fourteen year old.”
He opened the freezer. “Yeah, you do. But I’m not one to talk. Where I come from I have a lot of fresh produce in the house. Some pretzels and chips, beer, and then I tend to walk to local places and buy myself meals. Cheap meals, but good local meals.”
“Well, you can have Hot Pockets, soft pretzels, Fudgesicles, Tater Tots…well, you have eyes. You can eat whatever you want until you get to the store to grab stuff you want to stock.” She took down two short glasses and poured them each two fingers. She handed one to him and when he took it their fingers touched briefly.
He recalled the kiss, that instant of surrender, and he had to focus really hard on not letting his dick get hard. But he had a feeling that the lovely, somewhat abrasive, ass kicker Dahlia was going to star in his masturbatory fantasies. And he was fine with that.
He held up his glass. “To new friends and new adventures.” His gaze fell to those scars and he found himself itching to know about them. But that was for another day. Possibly another life.
She clinked but then she said, “We’re not friends. We just met. And you groped me ten minutes in.”
“I call foul on the term ‘groping’. I did kiss you, though. And I have to admit, I’d have been tempted to do it with or without and audience.” He looked her right in the eyes when he said it. He wanted her to know that as cheesy as it might seem, it was sincere.
She looked away.
For some reason, her looking away without a cutting comment felt like a victory. “I changed my mind. I’ll eat something once I shower and change. Seriously, I’m disgusting. You feel free to go spend your day off away from me. I’m going to take a year long shower, steal your pork chop and then pour another of these.” With that, he downed the whiskey and focused on the fierce burn as it traveled down into his belly.
She studied him so intently he almost wished she’d put the damn aviators back on so he couldn’t see it happening. Rarely did someone’s intense attention make him squirm—hers did.
“I can’t get caught away from my beloved.” She betrayed herself by smiling when she said it. He returned the smile. “I’ll take Alice out around the grounds. We’ll be back shortly.” Then she looked down at the dog and said, “Want to go pee on some bougainvillea, girl?”
Alice bounced playfully. Caleb felt pretty good. If the dog liked her, Dahlia was aces in his book. He looked at Alice as a security system at the moment. An early warning asshole detector.
“Yeah, sure. Thanks,” he said. “I appreciate it.”
She gave him one of her patented short nods and muttered, “No problem.” Then she downed her whiskey without a wince or a blink and he felt his dick want to get hard all over again.
photo credit: JonathanCohen via photopin cc

~~~~


So THIS is happening and live. Which makes me a little weepy and a lot grateful. This community--my community--has been so wonderful to me and mine over the last year I have no words. It is too big for little words so I'll just say thank you. To Alison Tyler, Selena Kitt / Excessica, the writers who submitted, the writers in the book, the people buying it, the people talking about it. To all of you who had a hand in it, I appreciate it. I appreciate you. I can't even begin to explain what this book means to me and my heart.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ Sommer

Presto Chango--a boring hump day into a chance to win a Paranormal Bundle (runs until Friday). Shazam!

I should (should) be back later with AMST but we'll see. In the meantime, here's a little ditty about a paranormal bundle and the first chapter of Kiki Howell's Hidden Salem. Just drop a comment (just say hi or whatever you want) and you'll be entered to win the bundle. I'll choose someone Friday and let Kiki know who the lucky winner is.

Easy peasy!

XOXO
Sommer




Curated by David H. BurtonWelcome to the Paranormal Romance Bundle, curated by the International Bestseller David H. Burton (Broken: A Paranormal Romance) — a specially selected collection of award-winning paranormal romance books that will leave you wanting more!Lisa Olsen and Dannika Dark were both kind enough to offer not only one book, but two! Lisa, of the best-selling Forged Bloodlines and The Fallen series brings us two phenomenal paranormal romance novels: The Company of Shadowsand Moonsong — both will whet your appetite for more of her 20 works. Dannika, a USA Today Bestselling author of the famed Mageri series and The Seven series has brought us two of her delectable works: Seven Yearsand Sterling — both firsts in her popular works that will get you quickly hooked!From the award winning Kristie Cook comes a story right from the incomparable Soul Savers series. For those that have already immersed themselves into this incredible world, you can't miss Genesis. For those that have not read her works, what better way to get acquainted, and then thoroughly addicted, to a best-selling series that will leave you wanting more!From the sultry Kiki Howell — an author with over thirty stories published between eleven different publishers — is Hidden Salem. I've known Kiki for a few years now and her writing is nothing short of superb. I couldn't wait to include her in this bundle and she had exactly what I was looking for. It's the perfect fit for this bundle!This is a very exciting bundle that has been a pleasure to curate and I know that you're going to love this line-up as much as I do! – David H. BurtonThe initial titles in the bundle (minimum $3 to purchase) are:•   Hidden Salem by Kiki Howell•   Seven Years by Dannika Dark•   The Company of Shadows by Lisa Olsen•   Genesis by Kristie CookIf you pay more than the bonus price of just $10, you'll get another three books:•   Broken: A Paranormal Romanceby David H. Burton•   Sterling by Dannika Dark•   Moonsong by Lisa OlsenThe bundle is available for a very limited time only, via http://www.storybundle.com. It allows easy reading on computers, smartphones, and tablets as well as Kindle and other ereaders via file transfer, email, and other methods. You get multiple DRM-free formats (.epub, and .mobi) for all books, but after the three weeks are over, the bundle is gone forever!It's also super easy to give the gift of reading with StoryBundle, thanks to our gift cards – which allow you to send someone a code that they can redeem for any future StoryBundle bundle – and timed delivery, which allows you to control exactly when your recipient will get the gift of StoryBundle.Why StoryBundle? Here are just a few benefits StoryBundle provides.•   Get quality reads: We've chosen works from excellent authors to bundle together in one convenient package.•   Pay what you want (minimum $3): You decide how much four fantastic books are worth to you. If you can only spare a little, that's fine! You'll still get access to four thrilling titles.•   Support authors who support DRM-free books: StoryBundle is a platform for authors to get exposure for their works, both for the titles featured in the bundle and for the rest of their catalog. Supporting authors who let you read their books on any device you want—restriction free—will show everyone there's nothing wrong with ditching DRM.•   Give to worthy causes: Bundle buyers have a chance to donate a portion of their proceeds to charity. We're currently featuring Mighty Writers and Girls Write Now.•   Receive extra books: If you beat our bonus price, you're not just getting four books, you're getting seven!StoryBundle was created to give a platform for independent authors to showcase their work, and a source of quality titles for thirsty readers. StoryBundle works with authors to create bundles of ebooks that can be purchased by readers at their desired price. Before starting StoryBundle, Founder Jason Chen covered technology and software as an editor for Gizmodo.com and Lifehacker.com.For more information, visit our website at storybundle.com, Twitter us at @storybundle, Like us on Facebook, and Plus us on Google Plus. For press inquiries, please email press@storybundle.com.




Hidden SalemByKiki Howell


Hidden Salem, Second Edition by Kiki Howell © September 2013This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.Copyright © by Kiki Howell 2013Second Edition
Graveyard Cover Art Photographer   Missie Tong, Missie Tong Photography © July 2013  www.missietongphotography.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

DedicationThis story would not have been possible without the unending love and support of my husband and two sons. They always graciously gave me the time I needed to research and write. As well, I must say a very special thanks to my mom and my aunt who took me on my first trip to Salem. I have so many great memories. But, without you two, I would’ve never “met” Mary.Also, I would like to say a special thanks to Salem, MA. So many I met there were a source of help and inspiration, as if by magic, just when I needed it. I would like to give special mention to Lori Bruno for reaching out to me, talking to me and offering me information while I was in her store. And, I just have to mention Salem Beer Works at 278 Derby Street. The best meal I had in Salem!
Praise for Hidden Salem
“Richly vivid and captivatingly engrossing, Hidden Salem is a mesmerizing tale that blends an eerie historical past with a rather terrifying present. Kiki Howell brings the fascination of the witches of Salem - both past and present - to a brilliant level, adding liberal doses of sensuous love, suspense and murder to provide a hard-to-put-down, provocative and memorable story that you don't want to miss.”  ~ April Pohren, Cafe of Dreams Book Reviews
“Kiki Howell spins a tale that will bewitch your heart and leave you wanting more.” ~ Misty Rayburn - Top Shelf Book Reviews
"This book is filled with secrets, lies, love, death, and magic. You are taken on an adventure that would appease any adrenaline junky...  I would recommend this book to everyone. You won’t be disappointed."  ~Crystal, Romancing the Book
"I have read a lot of books about witches and ones about Salem witches. But I have never read a book that was anywhere near like Hidden Salem. Hidden Salem was unique in the way that it actually portrayed the witches. I mean that a lot of people could or maybe even can do the things that Makayla does..." ~ Nancy Allen, The Avid Reader
"I’m a sucker for a great Witch story and this one has just jumped to the top of my list! ...I was hooked by Kiki Howell’s writing from the very first chapter. She took us on Makayla’s journey immediately, straight into visions and cops. I seem to enjoy books more that have action all the way through and I found Hidden Salem kept me turning the pages to see what was going to happen next. It has a great plot that I was addicted to and there are some romance scenes, but nothing too graphic. It was a fantastic paranormal/romance that I want more of!" ~Nomi’s Paranormal Palace


Chapter One
In the outer edges of my vision, the cloudless sky became as dark as night. A shroud of fog descended, an image only I could see, I knew, but for a moment blocked my present reality. Despite  the  sunlight  that  warmed my shoulders,  shadows  of  rainclouds  filled  the  sky. The juxtaposition between today’s reality and the glimpse I caught of the past were like a thousand icy fingers tapping down my spine.I’d stumbled upon another piece of residual energy stuck in the earth, what some would call a place memory. Thus, a scene from the past played itself out for me. Nothing new. I’d long ago come to terms with the fact I’d grown up different. I’d not asked for these gifts, if a person wanted to refer to them as such. I managed to live with the fact I was empathic. With living people, that proved one thing, but I often had to deal with the emotions of the past ─of the dead─as well.Though the smells of brine and salt water still came with each breeze, the picturesque scene of Pickering Wharf blurred, changed shape before me. I’d longed to see Salem’s gateway to the sea, without any reason as to the strong yearning. Now, here I stood on the harbor in the year of 2011, but it looked like something straight out of a history book. I witnessed the place in both its present time and the way it appeared many years ago. The misty view of the past flickered before the real time images in front of me. I squinted, cocked my head, but I couldn’t make the scenery look as it had a minute ago. The edges of mud and rock along the water were no longer as formed by the elements. Instead, it expanded in spots, presented itself as it had once looked long ago, as if centuries of erosion had never happened.A ghostly aberration of a woman, not of this time, appeared before me. My heart skipped a beat. She stood between the shoreline and me. Dense, pelting rain soaked her hair. I trembled against the thickness of the air. Her dress, a Puritan brown, clung heavily to her body. Yet I knew, as if we were the same person, more than material weighed her down. She hugged her flat stomach, arms wrapped in a protective squeeze.The ghost-like image glanced back at a large, spectral ship. The old seaworthy vessel fluttered into my field of vision as quickly as it dissipated into the ether. The clanging of its bell marked its arrival and its departure. As if she’d been spooked by the same apparition, she took off on a run. My muscles jumped to do the same, but I tensed, defiant in my stance, frozen in place.The woman was not a ghost, though. This I knew from research. I’d read books on the sly, so no one would know the secret of my gifts. I tried hard to appear normal more than any other thing I did in my life. If people were aware of what I could see and what I could feel, they would call me crazy, lock me up, and throw away the key. This I knew without a shadow of a doubt.The idea that a place can hold a memory of past events that can be viewed or felt by people with certain sensitivities, people like me, is not a new one in the field of parapsychology. Studies had shown that in places where the human spirit had experienced intense feelings, a trace of their anguish stuck, engrained itself into the ground. It is that trace, that energy, which a receptive mind can pick up on, witnessing the past like a vague vision.I kept all this in mind. I didn’t exist in this woman’s time any more than she did in mine. I stood firm, tried to ignore any apprehensions as she flew toward me. Her feet barely hit the ground. She appeared to look through me. A few seconds later, she stepped into me. I looked down at my body, unsure if I stood still or floated backward with the woman. Her lungs moved inside mine. I no longer had control over the air that entered and left my body. My ribcage expanded and contracted, forced by hers.For a moment, fear seized me. My breathing stopped. She grew frantic. Her tension lifted my brows and tightened my jaw. I resisted the urge to curl over a nauseous stomach. She sighed, resigned herself to her fate, and then rebuilt her courage. The name Mary floated into my mind with a low hum of a sound, the timbre of a somber voice.For a moment, her vision became mine, the harbor as it had looked centuries ago. The muggy air, rank of horse droppings and dead fish filled my nose. The silent, dark street became eerie, intensified by the rhythmic lap of the the water’s movement and the men who worked behind her. A forlorn warning, that told her prospects were bleak.Sudden grief strangled me. Her fear punched me in the gut. The tang of blood from where I’d bitten my lip soon replaced the sour taste in my mouth. Her husband had died on the trip over, but somehow she knew she carried his child. The questions as to how she would live in this place and take care of her child filled her mind, and thus mine. The urge to hug almost made me extend my arms to comfort her. I knew that action impossible. No woman, ghost, or spirit actually stood there.About such occurrences, there’d been arguments among the sciences as to whether some sort of ether or medium existed, a non-tangible matter read by the subconscious, a pseudo-haunting if you will. Even though she appeared ghost-like, transparent, and unstable, this Puritan woman from another time didn’t dwell here in the present with me. This moment played on a loop, repeated for anyone sensitive enough to see it.Yet, to me, and only to me, she appeared so real at the moment. Her feelings mixed  with mine, getting all stirred up in the pot of emotions boiling in my stomach. I couldn’t distinguish the difference between her reactions and mine—a common plight for an empath.My mouth dried. Air caught in my throat. Chills ran over my skin despite the heat. Rays of the October, late-afternoon sun infused my clothing. Tears stung my eyes as I fought the dizziness that threatened my frail grip on the reality I knew.I admonished myself. She no longer walked this earth. On any plane of existence, she didn’t exist. No ghost stood before me, just a strong unwavering mixture of memory, energy, and emotions stuck forever in a plot of dirt. Whatever tragedy had stricken this woman from the past had been profound enough to charge this spot of land for several hundred years.To prove I didn’t need to be wary of this—well, let’s call her an apparition for clarity’s sake—I forced my feet a few steps forward. As if she’d read my mind, she left. The fact that I’d read hers shocked me the most. It took a minute for my vision to become lucid, as I returned to the present day and watched the sunlight glisten on the soft ripples in the   water.This day, this basic Wednesday in my modern world became clear again. Yet the year 1752 went through my brain, as if I’d recalled a fact for a test. 2011, undeniably, spread out before me again. I looked behind me, glared down at the spot where the energy of the eighteenth century remained stuck, as if I would see a sign or something mark it for me. Of course, only I would see that sign too. A lunatic? Crazy? Me? Perhaps. The proof, half of me wanted to step on the spot again, and the other half of me, the one I most often ignored, wanted to flee. Curiosity killed the cat would probably be etched on my gravestone one day.I moved a shaking foot and wobbled off-balance. An unwelcome stone caught in my sandal. Distracted, I stumbled through a half-kick to dislodge the intruder. I sighed as I watched the pebble skitter back among its friends. Their multicolored surfaces glittered, outdone in their illustriousness only by the boats that glistened in stark white contrast to the vast blue water. Dots of bluish-white light swam in my vision. Reality, present day clearly emerged again. With a mixture of relief and disappointment, I said good-bye to Mary. I sighed, head down, not quite ready to face today or real people. My muscles weighed heavy inside my limbs. I longed for a nap, to close my eyes over the growing throb in my head.“Are you okay, Miss?” A gruff baritone voice covered me like a heavy blanket that offered warmth. The sound of it proved intimidating,  yet  seductive.—deep  and  direct,  yet  smooth  and  sexy. Still, I grappled between reality and consciousness, questioned the reality of the voice I heard. I shook my head in an attempt to leave behind my previous experience. While I often experienced emotions that lingered in the earth, I rarely found myself privilege to images or voices. My mind reeled  because  I’d  felt  her  physically  inside  of  me.  My  body  fought  to  recover  from  her sentiments. Thoughts that belonged to someone else ran rampant in my mind. The full on headache that had now formed beckoned me to close my eyes.Instead, I turned in the direction of the voice as a man in a police uniform put his hand on my shoulder. A dry fire ignited in my chest as every nerve ending came abruptly to attention. Both hindered my already impaired breathing. My vision blurred, and I fell.When I opened my eyes again, after what seemed like a second to me, the man had my body braced against his. Embers of awareness burned in my stomach. Once more, I couldn’t draw in air. Had my body shut down or revved up? I found myself lost in his cool blue eyes contrasted by dark lashes. When they locked with mine, my cheeks warmed and I briefly smiled.My cheeks burned as I looked away because I knew my smile had been too wide.“Uh, let’s get you closer to the ground so I can call for help.” Out of the corner of my eye, I witnessed his gaze sweep down my body before he swept his arm under my legs and sat me down on the grass. In my haze, I still had my head on his shoulder. I pulled back, became entranced by the two jagged scars over his left eye. I found my hand on his chest. “Matt, I need help. Call—”“No, don’t call for help!” I swallowed hard over my dry, raspy throat. What I anticipated to be a yell had come out as a squeak. Fully aware again, I hated the damsel in distress persona often forced upon me, and I sure as hell didn’t need some doctor trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Not this time. I’d become quite skilled over the years at lying away my peculiarities. I’d become sick of it just the same. “I’m fine. I’m sorry. Please, cancel the call.”“Matt. Forget it.” He scowled down at me with his jaw set. “You sure?”I nodded as the heat in my cheeks moved down my neck and chest. In that moment, the air warmed to the same heat his body had afflicted against mine. I tried to create some distance between us, but as I stood up, I felt like we were magnets. It took every ounce of effort I had to create some space. A sudden jolt to my system, as if he could feel my desires instead of the other way around, moved me faster. The thought screamed of ridiculousness, yet I reacted anyway. Unfortunately, the movements were too sudden. I swayed. His hand grabbed my arm. The yearnings in me increased. An inferno blazed through my core. My skin tingled from the inside out, from my head to my toes, which included places that made me blush.He cannot read your mind or feel your feelings, ones that are not even all yours to begin with, I scolded myself.“You don’t seem fine.” He’d paused between each word. “May I have your name?”Though he didn’t sound the calm, cool, and collected cop, he straightened his back and put his hands on his hips. Sexy as hell. I wanted to lean into him, have him be my personal protector. I wanted to be the reason for his unrest. Stupid, but true. Maybe my receptors had been fried from my encounter with Mary moments ago, or maybe he was a bundle of contradictions. Either way, I grew intrigued, to say the least, by the want that came from him and rushed through me. His strong, solid frame proved intimidating in a way. I hadn’t missed the flexing muscles in his arms when he lifted me as if I weighed nothing more than as a feather. Anyone could sense that much. There was something fierce, almost predatory about him as he subdued his own raw affections. Every one of his muscles felt tight and tense against me, like a snake ready to strike. When he licked his lips, I shuddered.“I’m Makayla, Makayla Knight from Ohio.” Shut up! He only asked your name you bumbling idiot, I yelled at myself. I needed to scream at someone. These often ill-timed gifts of mine overwhelmed me: Mary’s fears, the cop’s unexplainable anxieties and my (for lack of a better term) lust.I’d regressed back to being a hormonal teenager after one touch. Despite being in my early twenties, I had the silly urge to flip my hair and flirt. Get a grip, girl! You’ve met cute guys before.On the other hand, this guy glorified different, a wealth of well-incorporated contrasts. The rough cut of his muscular body contrasted with the gentle way he touched me. The chisel of his tightened jaw and sharp voice appeared to be in direct opposition to the way he seemed to be a bit tongue-tied.He personified that perfect combination of bad boy and well-cut gentleman −danger and protection. He stood menacingly before me, a rare temptation. I knew I would make a fool of myself if I didn’t stop staring at the mesmerizing contrast of the cool color of his blue eyes and the warm thickness of his shiny black lashes. I just couldn’t get over them or even look away. If only we’d met under different circumstances, and I hadn’t already humiliated myself, I might’ve even flirted with him. I figured he knew his way around a woman.“Well, Makayla Knight from Ohio, I’m Sergeant Noah Ayers, Salem PD. Are you sure you’re all right? I mean, you don’t look fine. Not that you aren’t… I mean you look—I’m sorry. You‘re still shaking. Just a second ago you were out cold.” He touched my arm again, but the carnal appetite hungry inside him embraced me elsewhere.“I just haven’t eaten. Long drive. I was too taken with the water to get food first. Silly. Or, stupid. And, now that I’ve humiliated myself, let me just say, sorry to have bothered you.”“It’s no bother, really.” A smile flashed over his face, warm and sexy, good enough to rival any I’d ever seen before. A primitive hunger, passion, surged through his hand, and made my blood  course  through  my  veins.  Yet,  the  instant  another  cop  showed  up,  Sergeant  Ayers tempered his lusts. He pulled back his hand, our physical connection severed.“What’s going on, Noah?” the second cop inquired.“I guess nothing. The lady claims she’s fine, just hasn’t eaten. I saw her walking…well, funny.” He shot me a killer smile as he spoke. My heart quickened, and I returned a pathetic, sheepish grin. I reminded myself that people didn’t get from me what I felt from them. My feelings were safe, knowledge only I knew. “When I got to her, she passed out. Instinct was to call the squad.”The man I think he’d called Matt had started to ask me something, but inklings of darker affections came from behind me, began to hinder my ability to concentrate. I didn’t want to encounter another moment from the past again before I could get rid of the officers. I attempted to block it out, push at the feelings with my own, but an instinctual empathy to the alarm of another woman took over. Such was the plight of an empath. There are days you can block other people’s emotions, make yourself feel a bit in control of your own life. And then, there are the days when you feel everything everyone feels, hopeless to do anything about it.Fear grew, wrapped around my already aching lungs. I folded my arms over my chest with my hands clenched into fists. The nails that bit into my palms kept me lucid. I bit at my lip as the indication of something evil, dark, lurked behind me, bristling the hairs on my neck.The affectations were too strong to be from the past. These feelings were in the here and now. To get them so intensely without touching the person, they had to be over-the-top in strength. I had to figure out where, or from whom, the fear came from. My moment of choice had vanished.“You really don’t seem all right,” Matt agreed.“Wait a minute. Please,” I begged, walked away from the cops as my hands signaled them not to follow me. Trying to force my trembling legs to work correctly, I willed them to turn and propel me forward. I knew the cops followed me anyway, but I ignored them, moved toward the danger like the dumb chick in a horror film. I wanted to be more the gutsy heroine.As I reached the weather-beaten posts that stood at the top of the break wall, panic assaulted me. The distress so viable it lived and breathed as an entity of its own. Sweat broke out over my skin, then chilled the closer I got. Anger and a deep burn of lust seized me, raped me with cold fingers, which left what felt like hot scratches over my skin.As always, as an empath, others’ emotions attacked me. They assaulted me in physical ways, then invaded and mixed with my own feelings until I couldn’t separate mine from anyone else’s anymore. To my chagrin, I often had trouble staying uninvolved as well. I figured if it was my lot in life to feel it, then I had a responsibility to respond, especially if I could help. My whole life, this had been my philosophy. In hindsight, to help had not always been the wisest course of action, but still the need to do so never went away. In a way, this defined me. It had formed the person I’d become.On the beach below me, five boys stood against the retaining wall. They were young, maybe high school or college age. They had two girls surrounded, a pack who circled their prey. I could see where one girl twisted her wrist in an attempt to break free of the front guy’s grasp. The air trembled. Thick smoke, alive and pulsing, curved around the boy, his own dark aura. White noise buzzed in my ears, and I could taste his putrid intent. The emotions of the living were far worse, especially when they were close to pure evil. Sometimes I feared meeting someone dark enough that his or her presence would kill me.“What are you doing?” Mr. Blue-Eyed Cop demanded. His voice roused the boys’ attention even though he’d spoken to me. The girl who’d been trying to break free started to cry. She tried to cover a strangled sound of weeping with her free hand. Hot tears blurred my own view until the movements of those below me on debris-riddled sand looked like knotted wood.“Down there.” I pointed to the blur of figures. Sudden movement had me rub at my eyes. The one boy took off on a run, yanked the crying girl with him. That only lasted a few strides before she fell to the ground. Her assailant turned a second and raised a fist as if he was going to bend down and hit her, but one of his friends grabbed his arm.“Stop!” Both cops yelled in unison about the same time they broke into a run after the thug. “Leave her, man,” one of the other boys from the group shouted as they all grappled for their friend’s shirt. The creeps got a decent start despite the moment of persuasion they’d attempted to get through to their friend. Still, by the time the cops got around the fence and to the sand, they were too far behind in the chase to reach the boys. They climbed jagged rocks with ease before they disappeared over the other side. The landscape became empty with the exception of a horizon of boats.The more nefarious, foreboding tremors to my psyche had gone with them. I shook my head to clear it before I walked toward the two girls. I didn’t touch them on purpose, lest I feel more than I already did of their distress. They stood, their hands wrapped around each other’s forearms, as they held each other up while they caught their breath.As I stood there, they tried to turn off the faucet of their feelings. I found this strange, as they couldn’t know I read them. Then it dawned on me that this was a moment of composure on their parts. I’d assumed they were going to downplay the incident and lowered one eyebrow at their odd maturity. They looked young enough to shriek with youthful, female drama, that teenage girl sort of thing.“We’re grateful you came when you did, but please just walk away,” the one who’d been manhandled hissed at me through gritted teeth. Her dainty features pulled to a glare, scary despite the halo of blond hair that framed her reddened face. The way she brushed the sand off her arms and shirt, with stiff and harsh movements, screamed of anger, no intense rage.I stepped back a bit, cocked my head at the sudden apprehension that pinched my muscles, bit at me like swarms of bugs caught under my skin. “I was just checking to see if you were all right.” My words were jumpy as I rubbed at my own arms.“Don’t. Walk away.” A small amount of spit shot from her mouth with the words. She shook her head and wiped her nose in an unladylike fashion on the back of her hand. “You can’t help us. If they saw you…just go.” Her teeth hit together when she closed her mouth. The girl grabbed her friend, led her away, and left me with my mouth open. In the past ten minutes I’d hit quite a spectrum of lurid emotions with the exception of my strange reaction to the cop. Body shaking, muscles aching, sweat coating my neck, I attempted to produce a rational thought. Damn, I needed something to eat, even though I wasn’t sure what my stomach could handle.I stepped back to the retaining wall and slid down it. With jerky movements as the wood grabbed my shirt, I made it to a crouch. I took out my camera and balanced it with trembling hands on my knees. I hoped to blend in like a tourist while I regrouped. The thought almost made me laugh. Salem, I figured, proved much less eventful for normal sightseers. My question remained, who had it better?Even now that I was alone, a strange sensation lingered. Something mystical,  almost otherworldly, cabalistic, hung in the air around me, something so different from the energy stuck in the earth from the past, like I’d encountered with Mary moments ago. This present disturbance snaked around me. It hung heavy, though the breeze of October held no humidity, and pushed me to leave. I fought against it. Seeing Mary had proved my premonition to come to Salem had been right. I tampered the urge to scream into the wind that I was staying.I wondered if the cops had caught the boys. They’d all been unkempt, clothes dirty and wrinkled. It crossed my mind that maybe they were in college and either couldn’t afford or didn’t have time for laundry this week. On second thought, the t-shirt one boy had on had read Giorgio Armani across the front of it. Weird. I surmised most people who owned Armani kept it better.The weight of whatever evil had been here continued to burden me. I’d encountered this depth of depravity only in rare instances, and so I sat frozen, asphyxiated by a beast with fingers around my throat. My hand clutched at my chest. My heartbeat reverberated in my back against the wall. Never had I experienced such a sense of foreboding from ones so young. The air around them had pitched in a thin cloud of black smog. Thick as pea soup just didn’t describe it. A black, tar-like substance dumped on their auras seemed close though. Not all of them appeared to me this way, but their leader did for sure.The more the base depravity sunk into my being, the more I understood why the girls had been so scared of the group of boys. I had to get up and move to convince myself I wouldn’t be murdered by this leftover energy, sacrificed in some demonic ritual. I swore demons lingered in the air. After a few deep breaths, I pulled my legs under me and rose despite the fact I could barely feel them. Ghost–like, I moved over the ground on what seemed non-existent feet.As I climbed the mini-hill, I gained sensation; tiny pinpricks stabbed my heels and calves. The sludgy sand sucked in my feet, but I continued to the street. Everyday sounds greeted me, and I smiled back. The little coffee shop to my right brought sweet smells that made my stomach growl. I could at least get something to eat or a nice sugary drink with lots of caffeine. Desperate for food and a chair, I made my way to the shop semi-cognizant of my surroundings without incident. Relief flooded me with the jingle of the bell over the door.When I’d almost finished my sugar and fat-loaded coconut cream pie mocha and a double chocolate muffin, the cop, Noah, walked in the door, adding another dimension to my self-induced sugar rush.“I was hoping to find you…to make sure you were okay. Not being a stalker or anything.” He let out a sound close to a laugh, which had gotten caught in his throat.“Cop and stalker, nice safe-feeling thought there,” I half laughed and immediately wished the words had stayed in my head.“Yeah…” His fingers ran through his hair. The waves stayed as black as night even while they caught the orange light which hung above our heads. Tussled in complete disorder, his soft hair tempted me to run my fingers through it. I put my hands on the seat under my thighs. An inconceivable attraction stormed between us, a tempest I wished to brave just to be able to tell the tale. Something with so much energy, that it took on a life of its own between us, could not be ordinary. Never had I had the desire to want to read someone so strongly. The need went beyond curiosity.“I’m better now that I’ve had my sugar-fix. Still shaking, but for other reasons...I mean sugar verses no sugar… So don’t get concerned if I stumble again.” I giggled, or made a sound similar as heat burned my cheeks. Those mesmerizing eyes radiated deeper warmth in the light of the store. His essence haunted me as much as the window darkened by the encroaching twilight.“So, did you catch the guys?” I ventured.“Actually, no, but we talked to the girls. They don’t want to press any charges. I know those kids. They were harmless pains in the butt when they were in high school too. Two are the sons of a few of the richer, more influential families around here. They get bored sometimes and cause some minor havoc. Matt is calling their parents now. I offered to follow up on your case.”“I’m a case?” I asked, and let out a short laugh despite myself because he had hit the nail on the head there. The giggling like a school girl has got to stop! I admonished myself. “Well, no, you have no official case number or anything, but I wanted to make sure you were all right. It’s my job to secure a scene. I don’t like any loose ends. But, in your case…sorry, in your situation, I had to run off.” He stopped. I think he realized he’d rambled even if in cop talk. “It’s all part of our tourist protection policy.”“Really? Well, thank you, but I’m just fine. Um, what sort of havoc were the boys up to today? Did the girls tell you anything? Or, is that all classified information?” I couldn’t shake the chill from the girl’s warnings nor the darkness, one indefinable to me still, which came from the boys. I hated to use the word, but truly it screamed of demonic. Like a beast, it had bared its teeth at me, and then gone in for the kill.Frustrating as it was, I’d no way to explain to officer sexy-enough-to-die-for why he was wrong to think those boys were harmless. I never could decide if my gifts were blessings or curses. My blessings today were to have witnessed Mary and to have been rescued by Noah. The curses were, well, everything else.“The girls said they were doing some kind of experiment, some stupid thing about how long they could go with minimal sleep, little food and no sex or showers. Guess they’ve been running around in the same clothes for four days. Stupid, spoiled rich kids.” He rolled his eyes and laughed. This time he sounded more natural, even with a short grunt that had caught him off-guard.I made him nervous. That came across clear to me in tidal waves. People’s strongest feelings emerged the easiest to read, but I didn’t need to be empathic to read him now. His actions betrayed him, only confirmed what I felt of his emotions. The muscles in his broad neck held tense, while the veins stuck out as if his collar choked him. His fists moved from his waist to the table and back again. Of course, how much of the nerves were his or mine? How could I know? The guy’s presence threatened and shocked me all at the same time. He portrayed some action movie hero come to life right before me. I wanted to play damsel in distress, if only to lie in his arms once more, but that wasn’t me. I squared my shoulders and sat up straighter.“Okay, but why would they do that though?” I couldn’t stop my questions. Something about the group had gotten under my skin and not in a good way. I’d become the dog with the proverbial bone.“Who knows? They’re bored rich kids, like I said. I won’t even try to explain them. Seems the one boy had had enough of the no sex part, and his girlfriend was a bit turned off by his no showering part. At least, that’s what the girls claimed in fits of fake and nervous laughter.”“Ah.” I bit my lip. It was really none of my concern as I just passed through this town. Just because I felt it and couldn’t explain it, didn’t make it my business. This had become the new mantra of my life recently, and soon I promised to enforce it as well. I was just a little slow on the uptake.“Can I ask what made you walk over to them in the first place?” he inquired as he rubbed the first signs of stubble in his face.Sure, but I will have to lie, I thought as I searched for a viable answer. “Good hearing, I guess. I thought I heard some sort of whimper. I thought someone was hurt.” I impressed even myself sometimes at my ability to contrive a new truth, one better than the real one on such short notice. It was a gift. What could I say? Just one I shouldn’t be so proud of, though.“Funny, I didn’t hear anything.”I shrugged. What else could I do?“Well then, what brings you to Salem from Ohio, Makayla Knight?” He pulled his jacket forward and leaned back in his chair. The sexy sprawl revealed other fine parts of his anatomy, a package I’d brushed up against in my embarrassing swoon. Although the idea of it irritated the crap out of me, what I wouldn’t give to be in that position again, in private. Attraction did funny things to a girl. I wouldn’t berate myself for the thought. No sense in that as I’d probably never see him again.“Well, I’m an author. Or, at least I’m aspiring to be. I’m writing a book.” “Ah, Salem has been the inspiration for many books.”Lies, lies, and more semi-lies are what I usually told. I would write them down to keep track, but I probably wouldn’t be here long enough for it to matter what I told him and what I didn’t. Although, I would bet Mr. Sexy Cop Guy here had a mind like a steel trap. To keep it short and simple would help if need be.I’d yet to write even a word of any book. Oh, I’d wanted to, that was true enough, and I’d thought Salem was a good place to start. I’d traveled here to write. That made me an author, didn’t it? Therefore, what I said proved true enough. Leaving out pertinent details didn’t constitute a lie. I didn’t owe him my life story. I just wanted to talk to him until a situation arose that made it okay for me to touch him again. Right or wrong, I wanted to know everything about him.“So, since this is Witch City, are you writing a non-fiction historical or a paranormal fiction type deal?”“Well-versed in the town’s literature too, Sergeant Ayers?” I teased despite myself.“Call me Noah. I’ve had to read quite a few books where this city is concerned. They’ve come in to play in crimes and conspiracies, actually, but on that I can’t say any more.” He winked at me so adorably that I wanted to kiss him. Even happy, his eyes held such intensity. “So, what are you writing?”“Well, the fantasy or fiction type stuff. I really just hope to stumble over inspiration somewhere here. If not, Salem seems a cool place to visit anyway. I’m like a magnet to water.”Stumble I’d done already. I couldn’t wait to go back to Pickering Wharf and, fingers crossed, find out more about Mary. I’d come here on intuition alone, followed a whim that had nagged at me. I’d traveled here to discover a hidden Salem. Someone here wanted me to write their story, a sort of redemption for something done wrong. I didn’t know exactly. Call it a hunch. Mary was a good lead, a good confirmation that I should have followed the feelings that lead me to this historic city. In fact, Mary appearance had offered me much more than I’d expected so soon.“Me too, and I’ve lived here my whole life,” he agreed.He stood, tugged up his pants, and showed off a manly outline. I shut my mouth not to drool as he held out his hand to me. I had to laugh at myself because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d reacted this way to a man.“I’m relieved to see you doing so well. I better catch up with my partner, but I hope to run into you again before you leave,” he stated rather matter-of-factly.Really?I wondered if he’d wanted to say more as I took his hand to shake. I’d had a moment’s hesitation to touch him, but I’d pushed through it. I couldn’t avoid the shake, or I’d look crazier than I already did.Our palms met and caused me to gasp. I tried to contain it, started fake coughing while more of his reactions to the world rushed through me. He remained complex,  loaded  with  conflicting emotions, questions, and turmoil. The brunt of it hit me like a hug too harsh and yet welcome just the same. I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to hold his hand for hours until I uncovered everything about him, what he loved, what he hated, what got him excited, made him smile endlessly, and so on. Alternatively, I at least wanted to hold onto him until I found the underlying cause of the lust in him, which complimented mine.“Strange,” I muttered before I realized it.“Huh? Are you sure that you’re okay? What’s strange?” I received a crooked smile as the fingers of his other hand ran down over his five o’clock shadow.“Me today. Don’t you agree?” I attempted a pathetic save.“Well, I wouldn’t quite put it that way.”Damn, that grin of his should be illegal.“Yeah, I don’t think I want to know how you would put it after I humiliated myself by passing out in your arms.” I forced a laugh and forced my fingers, one by one, to let go of his hand, even though I wanted to cradle his palm to my chest. An overwhelming urge to be in his arms, to kiss him, to talk to him through the night, made my all-of-the-sudden dry mouth start to salivate again.“Stop. It happens. I’m not complaining. Let’s see, I would use the word interesting, maybe fascinating, definitely beautiful, but I’m not the writer. And, I’m on the clock and shouldn’t be saying such things. I better go before I get myself in trouble.”“Thanks…for saying… well what you did.” I actually blushed. If the heat radiating off my face indicated the amount of red on my skin, then I was sure he noticed. How could I ask him if he’d been flirting with me, or if he made a habit of being this friendly with all the ladies? “Well, anyway, it’s nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure. It’s just been a long two-day drive for me.”“Where are you staying?”“In Salem’s Waterfront Hotel. I got lucky, apparently, snatching a room that became available with a last minute cancellation.” “Good. You don’t have far to go, then.” “Nope.”“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Makayla.”“It’s been a pleasure being assisted by you, Ser…Noah.” I couldn’t help but to watch himwalk away.
 

A Many Splintered Thing / Day 13: He stared into her eyes, they turned a war-ish gray when she was pissed.

Posting this on the fly. The day has been...a day. If you find any typos shout 'em out in the comments section and just an FYI I still need to fix CJ's from yesterday. I did see the comment.

Have a good one.

XOXO
S
~~~~~~





Caleb
Caleb took stock of the room. Harrison had a stupid smile on his face and he sort of felt bad for him. He could tell that Harrison knew he wasn’t in on the joke. And that’s exactly what this set-up was as far as Caleb was concerned—a joke. But his arm was still around the mysterious, scarred Dahlia and he wasn’t complaining about the way she felt pulled up close to him.
Maybe it was vindictive, he was sure it was, but the tables had turned and he was staying. He was staying to spite Jasmine and her soap opera agenda. He planned to see what Curved Leaf Vineyards had in store for him. First and foremost he wanted to know more about Dahlia don’t- know-her-last-name-yet.
He glanced at Jasmine and judging by the look on her expression she didn’t like the look on his face. Caleb realized the look on his face was what his grandmother would have called a shit-eating-grin. A phrase he’d never quite understood but he knew what it looked like.  A big I-win grin. His cheeks ached from smiling so big, and he couldn’t resist giving her a wink.
She bristled.
“Well, I’m glad you two are happy,” Harrison said. “I propose, while I take the missus out to dinner after her hair session—“
“It’s an appointment, Harrison, not counseling,” Jasmine said, annoyed.
“That you two take the rest of the day off. Just enjoy each other.”
Caleb squeezed Dahlia—he couldn’t help himself—and felt her very subtly grind her elbow into his side hard enough to make him see stars.
It was awesome.
“Oh, we couldn’t—“she said.
“Nonsense.” Jasmine’s voice was tight, her expression unreadable. She tried on a smile and it was a terrible sight.
Caleb couldn’t help but feel a stab of satisfaction. Three thousand miles and a life overhaul to be met at the gate and told he was the help. He knew he should have turned around and left. Still wasn’t sure why he hadn’t. Maybe it had been curiosity. Maybe exhaustion. Or maybe he just wanted to see where this whole thing went. His life had become a bit tame in his humble opinion.
He patted his pocket, feeling the small cardstock square of Britt’s card. He couldn’t exactly say he was tetherless here. He knew a guy. Caleb, despite loathing his father, did prescribe to a single theory of his dad’s when it came to life. You should always know ‘a guy’. And he felt he did.
“Who are Jasmine and I to stand in the way of young love?” Harrison said, beaming.
If Caleb wasn’t mistaken, this guy actually looked pleased. Which meant his sentiment was sincere. Which meant, sadly, that he had to dial Harrison back on the asshole scale. He went from a solid nine to a 7 or a 7 ½. Caleb chuckled and all eyes turned his way.
“What’s so funny…babe?” Dahlia asked. The final word sounded like she was spitting out something unpleasant.
He laughed again. He had no malice toward her, in fact, he found her utterly intriguing and let’s not forget, sexy as hell, but he was amused by her discomfort. And Jasmine’s. And the whole damn bizarre situation. Suddenly, he found it as funny as Dahlia seemed to earlier. He hoped he managed to escape without a lunatic laugh fest of his own.
“Nothing. Just thinking of spending the day with you uninterrupted is…awesome.”
He stared into her eyes, they turned a war-ish gray when she was pissed. “Getting to know each other in person,” he added for good measure. “What could be better?”
Then he took his biggest risk yet, he hauled her tight against him and he kissed her. He felt her taut body go rigid when their lips met. Caleb could literally feel the energy that skittered along her skin as she suppressed the urge to let loose and sock him one. He wouldn’t have been surprised in the least if she broke the charade and did just that.
But then something interesting happened. Beyond it being interesting, it was exciting. She yielded. Only for a moment. That span of one heart beat where she went soft and pliable and willing in his arms was too brief for Caleb. He almost—almost—thought he’d imagined it.
But he knew he hadn’t. And to add the cherry on top of the let’s-end-the-cycle-of-shitty-luck sundae he heard Jasmine gasp. Caleb couldn’t suppress his happiness and when he glanced slyly at Harrison, Caleb saw that her husband couldn’t either. It nearly made Caleb feel bad for Jasmine, but not quite.
“Nothing,” Dahlia said, a little breathless though her eyes had darkened even further to a storm cloud gray. “Nothing could be better.”
“Good!” Harrison said, clapping his hands together. “That settle it then. You two have the rest of the day off and I’ll have the kitchen staff bring you down a nice dinner. There’s reason to celebrate on my land and that always makes me happy. Dahlia,” he said, leveling a finger at his maid. “You know where the bottles of wine are kept that are put out for staff. Make sure you pick something nice. Make sure Caleb knows we’re a class A joint around here.”
She nodded. Caleb was the only one close enough to see that her jawline was bunched with tension. He fully expected a right hook the moment his new employers left.
But it was worth it.
His fingers smoothed back and forth along her side. His arm was still around her and he knew that would end soon. For the moment he was perfectly content just touching her. Despite the fact that she was rip-roaring mad. She was also warm and pressed against him and though he doubted she knew it, her heart was beating hard. He could see her pulse jump in her throat.
“Let’s go, love. Let’s leave these two alone. Before dinner you have that hair thing and I have to go meet George and put the final touches on that ridiculous hillbilly family reunion of his that he wants to host at the pavilion.” He glanced out the window and sighed. “If the painters are done by then.”
“Of course they’ll be done! They have to be done!” Jasmine said. “They were told to be done and they’ll do what they’re told. That’s what employees are for, right?” she said, her voice tight and high. Then she marched from the room on stiff legs and Caleb had to press his lips together to keep from smiling again. 


photo credit: pierpaolop via photopin cc

A Many Splintered Thing / Day 12: "He's looking at the bougainvillea"

Dahlia
The big guy, and he was big, took a step toward her and she thought just for a second he was going to put his arm around her. There was a small part of her that warmed at the thought and it threw her. For the first time since Jasmine asked her to be a part of this teeny-bopper-movie-of-the-week plot she felt uncomfortable. Like she might crawl right out of her skin.
She shifted where she stood and very much unlike herself, Dahlia clutched her hands behind her back and threw herself straight up, her posture stiff, in the expected staff member ‘resting pose’ they were once coached on by Harrison Day.
She snorted and then felt her cheeks color. Caleb had glanced down at her and that meant she’d made the noise aloud.
They heard Harrison’s car door shut and Jasmine jumped.
“Problem, Dahlia?” Jasmine asked, her face tight with anticipation or fear or something she’d never quite seen on the woman.
“Nope. I’m good. Sorry.” Dahlia pressed her lips together and was horrified to find a small, bizarre giggle slip out of her.
She told herself not to look up at her new housemate. But something about Caleb worked as a pull, it drew her attention whether she wanted it to or not. She looked up and saw he had a single dark eyebrow cocked questioningly, a half smirk stretched his full lips.
She shrugged, swallowing down another wild giggle. “Maybe I’m having a stroke,” she said. And then giggled. The giggle was followed by a guffaw.
She heard Caleb mutter “Jesus Christ” but even with her head bent and her hand clutched over her mouth she could tell he was smiling.
Jasmine said, “I have no idea what she’s doing. She hardly even smiles for fuck sake and now she’s having a laughing attack at the worst possible time.” The tail end of her statement was more of a hiss than words.
Caleb touched the middle of her back, because she found she was bent over slightly, trying to get her fucking head on straight. She wasn’t sure if it was just the outright tension of lying to one of her two employers or if it was the bizarre nature of the request. When his hand touched her a striking heat spread through her body. She clutched her eyes shut tightly, took a deep breath and stood.
“I’m fine now. Sorry. Very sorry.”
They could see Harrison out one of the large front windows. “What’s he doing?” Caleb asked.
Another laugh slipped free of her and she shook her head, beyond irritated with herself. Jas was right. She hardly ever smiled for fuck’s sake, what the hell was going on? “He’s looking at the bougainvillea.”
“He’s obsessed with that stuff,” Jasmine said, rolling her eyes.
Dahlia nodded over and over, her hand pressed over her mouth. Caleb watched her, smiling—amused. “He is,” she confirmed.
“Why?”
Dahlia managed to get herself under control. “We have no idea,” she and Jasmine said almost in unison.
“What’s the story with you two?”
Dahlia and Jasmine answered almost simultaneously. Dahlia said, “Not what you think.” Jasmine said, “What do you mean?”
He cocked that eyebrow again just as the front door was thrown open.
Caleb’s dark eyes studied hers and she found she was holding his breath. They all rustled like a coup full of chickens. She had the thought, Why? Why doesn’t he just say fuck this and walk out? Why not go back to where he came from? Even if it’s the money, people work things out. Why is he still here…?
They heard steps on the tile floor and Harrison called out like the dad in a fifties sitcom. Dahlia stood up straight and when Caleb threw his arm around her shoulder and hauled her a step closer to his massive form she bit her lower lip. What coursed through her felt electric—alive—it was a strange and somehow welcomed sensation.
Ask him. Ask him if you manage to get through this charade without babbling and braying like a lunatic. Ask him if Jasmine’s a good enough lay to go through all this. Because I can’t imagine she is.
She was surprised to find herself pressing back against his side as Harrison entered, beaming. “There you all are,” he said.
Dahlia, not wanting to like the feel of Caleb, not wanting to embrace the sensation of him pressed against her, went rigid and then stepped forward. “Harrison! Hi there. Can I get you a water? I can make coffee if you like.”
He looked surprised. Of course he did. She was often surly and quiet and didn’t embrace her ‘help’ status. But now she’d do anything to not be touching Caleb. Because when she was touching him, she realized, her instinct was to touch him more.
“I’m good, Dahlia. You seem happy.” Harrison’s eyes flitted to Caleb who snorted softly like a horse. What the fuck was wrong with that man? Now was the time to keep their shit together. To not give anything away. She liked her job, for the most part, and knew, from firsthand experience, that Jasmine could be petty and cruel.
Harrison obviously assumed she was so happy because of Caleb being her. Best to embrace it. “I am. Thank you. Thanks to you I have…” she kind of choked on the ending. “What I’ve been wanting so badly for so long.”
She bit her tongue just to keep herself grounded. Because it kind of felt like she was losing her mind.
“Me, too, Harrison,” Caleb spoke up. Jasmine’s eyes narrowed but she kept her composure. “I wanted a new life. I was looking for something new. A chance, a risk, a challenge…” His eyes went to Dahlia and she felt something go through her, almost like a rustle, like a small tree in a high wind. “And now I’ve found one.”
The room went utterly silent. The kind of silence Dahlia had only experienced before huge, roof-shaking storms. The hairs on her arms prickled to attention. And then barely audible at first, they all heard it carried on the coaxing August wind: Help I’m stepping into the twilight zone…
A radio.
Before she could say “it’s the painters working up at the tasting pavilion” Caleb laughed softly and said, “Tell me about it.”


photo credit: mnadi via photopin cc

Sunday Guest Post: Leigh Ellwood

We'll be taking a break from AMST today and saying hi to Leigh Ellwood as she talks about a new antho she's part of~ Sci Spanks...tada!

XOXO
Sommer




Hello, everybody. Leigh Ellwood here, and I’m thrilled to announce I’m part of a new anthology called Sci Spanks. This is a collection of 15 shorts on a theme – naturally science fiction with spanking. My contribution, “Skin,” came to me as I racked my brains to think of a story. A martini or two later, and it happened.
You may or may not be familiar with my work, but BDSM and kink are not sub-genres I write often. I don’t read much BDSM, just a few authors, and I know writing kink requires research so the stories are accurate and do not misrepresent the Lifestyle. Since this book deals mainly with spanking, though, I felt it was okay for me to participate. The science fiction setting allowed me a bit of creative license as well. I placed my heroine in a precarious situation where a law was accidentally broken, but her captain manages to make it easier by becoming involved in the interplanetary conflict. I don’t want to spoil it for anybody, but Sci Spanks is only 99 cents and a great collection if you enjoy light kink, other worlds, and a variety of pairings.
I invite you to preview Sci Spanks below and to drop me a line on Twitter @LeighEllwood if you have read and enjoyed it. I don’t know if I’ll write more spanking stories after this, but the feedback is good I never say never.
The Sci Spanks Anthology 2014
Featuring stories by Anastasia Vitsky, Leigh Ellwood, Maren Smith, Olivia Starke, Eve Langlais, Louisa Bacio, Kate Richards, Carole Cummings, Jessica E. Subject, Cathy Pegau, Sue Lyndon, Natasha Knight, Erzabeth Bishop, Eva Lefoy, and Anne Ferrer Odom
Published July 15, 2014
Buy Now!
Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/Sci-Spanks-2014-Collection-Spanking-ebook/dp/B00LWHW2QK/
AllRomance - https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-scispanks2014-1570892-343.html
Smashwords - https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/458236
Kobo – http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/sci-spanks-2014
Sci Spanks 2014 offers fifteen sexy spanking stories from fifteen authors. You’ll find everything from sweet, tender romance to laugh-out-loud humor and references to old-school science fiction popular culture. You’ll find a mixture of romantic pairings, from M/F to F/F to M/M. Some stories are harsher, while others appeal to the softest-hearted romantic. Sit back, relax, and enjoy!
About the Stories
Skin by Leigh Ellwood
Different planets abide by different rules, and when Andromeda breaks one she must accept the punishment. When her ship's captain elects to administer the penalty, she finds being the bad girl feels quite good.

Bred for Love: Tika is Chosen by Eve Langlais
Abducted and raised in a commune on a planet with two indigo suns, Tika has no idea she’s part of a specialized breeding program created to provide healthy human females to men of power in need of a perfect mate.

But Tika has no intention of behaving. What she doesn’t count on is her new owner enjoying the challenge.

Taliasman by Anastasia Vitsky

"If I had been born a boy, I would have followed in my father’s footsteps to become a tradesman. Because I was a girl, he sold me instead." So begins the tale of Talia, a woodworker's daughter who is sold for a sackful of gold. Queen Vina appears at the cottage of Talia, a nineteen year old whose family is too poor for her to marry. Vina takes Talia to her palace, and the girl discovers unexpected love.

Oh, What the Hell by Maren Smith

May has for a long time now suffered in her attraction to shipmate, Vek. That Vek is a praying mantis-like Klik'vok is entirely beside the point. Her fickle woman's heart has spoken and tonight is the night she's going to do something about it. Because surely, once a woman gets past the whole "bug exterior" thing, then any other obstacles must be easy, right?

Replicated Consequences by Jessica E. Subject

After Darryl Malloy’s wife is killed in combat, he doesn’t expect to find her standing on his door step. Only she is not his wife, but a clone, armed with a paddle.

What's a Moon Colony without a Spanking Franchise? by Kate Richards

But Harlan, a simple college professor and trainee of The Trainer isn't sure how well his tools will work in the lower gravity chosen by the denizens of this strange place. What he needs is someone to try them out on. But the client who presents herself is not exactly the girl next door...

No More Lizards by Sue Lyndon

Anya is determined to help her stern alien husband, Roc, find his sense of humor. Putting a native lizard-like creature known as an ebbra under their bedcovers seems like a good idea. It’s funny. At least Anya thinks so…until her husband decides a certain naughty little prankster needs to go over his knee. Will Anya ever succeed in coaxing a smile out of Roc, or is the cultural divide between them too great to find some common ground?

Red Moon Rising by Erzabet Bishop

When you can’t be who you are where do you turn? When you thought the love of your life was lost only to find her again how do you choose between yesterday and tomorrow.

A hereditary witch, Detective Devi Watson fought long and hard to become a cop in a witch hating world. Forced to turn her back on her coven and her family she lost everything that mattered most.

Her girl Astrid included. Some choices a woman should never have to make. When witches begin to die and Astrid is threatened, the carefully constructed wall around Devi’s past begins to crumble.
Who is she? Hereditary witch or a student of law and logic? Can Devi reconcile the demons that haunt her and face the red moon rising…

Taming the Wolf by Anne Odom

The time machine is broken, and there’s a wolf in the control room. What’s an inventor to do when his project is failing, his lover is wicked, and his patience is stretched?

Research Purposes Only by Eva Lefoy

From my research, species across the galaxy have one thing in common: they all have some hidden kink. Whether its tentacle restraints, breath play or even the more uncommon fire play, they all have tricks up their sleeve. Join me as I visit the Utai and get a first-hand taste of how sweet their punishment for a simple crime can be.

Jen & Maddy by Cathy Pegau

When Maddy stops by her girlfriend's lab, she helps by testing the mind-reading equipment. To her shock, all of her deepest longings are laid bare. Will she scare Jen away, or will they take their relationship to the next level?

Flame on a Fire by Carole Cummings

Exposition and development masquerading as a PWP. Or vice versa. Depending on your perspective. But hey, either way—bondage!

~
About Leigh EllwoodI am Leigh Ellwood. I write smutty stories about people who like getting naked and having sex. Some have more sex than others, some have sex with people of the same gender, some have sex with more than one person, and still others have sex with toys and things that require the use of batteries. My stories range from a few thousand words to well past 70k. My books are available at Amazon, B&N, Smashwords, Kobo, and ARe. Really, just type my name in any bookstore site and something is bound to show up. Please stalk me online for news about my books and crazy adventures.http://www.leighellwood.com
http://leighwantsfood.blogspot.com
http://twitter.com/LeighEllwood
http://www.facebook.com/leighellwoodauthor

A Many Splintered Thing / Day 11: “First off, I’m not fucking you,” she said.

Happy Saturday. I'm chilling--sort of. Taking it easy today--kinda. I'm almost done Bird Box (see yesterday), raring to start The House of Small Shadows (see yesterday) and looking forward to my evening Pimm's cup on the veranda (which is my porch. in my pajamas, no less). Here's day 11 of AMST. If you don't know what's going on...again...see yesterday! 
XOXOSommer~~~~~~
She didn’t say anything. Not a word. She gave a brisk nod and walked right past them and opened the red front door. Then she was gone.
“Well, she’s friendly,” Caleb said.
He caught Jasmine studying him. Her eye were narrow and her mouth was set. She didn’t look happy. 
“I don’t pay her to be friendly.”
“Good, because you’re not getting your money’s worth.”
“Why don’t you get your stuff and come inside. I’ll introduce you two and explain a few things.”
That made a cool sensation flow down his spine. It felt like wariness. “What does that mean?”
“What?”
“Explain a few things?”
She shrugged, not looking at him. “Get your stuff,” she repeated. He knew he was in deep shit when she avoided his eyes again and called out to the dog. “Come on, Alice. Come see your new house.”Even the dog looked confused, but she loped forward slowly. It was clear from her body language that she was hesitant but game as long as the woman didn’t make any sudden moves.
Caleb opened the back of the Wagoneer, got his bag, and stuck his keys in his pocket. He’d come back and get Alice’s kibble. First he needed to go meet the woman with the scars.
Jasmine was standing very stiffly inside the front door. She acted as if she were in the maid’s home instead of the maid was living in hers. This made Caleb like Dahlia before they’d even spoken. Anyone who could intimidate Jasmine into silence was impressive.
He almost chuckled when Jas jumped as he entered. She was definitely on edge.
Jasmine stood on the red tile that was directly inside the front door. The entire guest house seemed to be done in cream and jewel tones. Very Native American, down to the throws on the back of the clay colored sofa and an arm chair the same shade as good Dijon mustard.
“Is this him?” Dahlia asked, walking past them into the kitchen. She came back with two bottles of water. She cracked open one and tossed the other to Caleb.
He was startled but managed to pluck it from the air without embarrassing himself.
He liked her even more.
Jasmine cleared her throat. She clutched her hands in front of her like a small child in a Spelling Bee. “Dahlia, this is Caleb. Caleb, this is Dahlia. Dahlia lives here and now so do you. Dahlia also is…is the woman.”
He waited for Jasmine to finish the sentence. The woman who makes me pee my pants. The woman who will show you around. The woman who is already inspiring dirty thoughts in your thick, willful head…
“The woman…?” He left the question hang there.
Dahlia surprised him by laughing. For an intimidating looking person she had a lovely, musical laugh. “Jesus, Jasmine. You haven’t even told him?.”
“I’ve told him, I just haven’t told him it was you.” Jasmine looked both annoyed and embarrassed.
“Does someone want to actually tell me or am I just supposed to stand here looking stupid?” He smiled at Dahlia, taking advantage of her apparent amusement. “Handsome, mind you, but stupid.”
Jasmine huffed and for some reason the sound made Caleb happy. For all the fucked-up-ness she had brought to his life in the last week she deserved to huff. He knew it was petty but so be it.
Dahlia’s eyes flickered to her boss and then back to Caleb. When they landed on him, he thought he saw them grow a bit brighter. More interested. He’d probably imagined it but a guy could still hope. She reached toward him and he felt something similar to an electrical current travel his skin. She took his hand in hers and shook once.
“First off, I’m not fucking you,” she said. “But nice to meet you.”
He blinked, but being a smart ass of epic proportions according to Bob and Belinda—the closest thing to actual parents he’d ever had—he recovered quickly. “Well, that saddens me, but seeing as we’ve only been acquainted for one second, I can live with that. Understand it, even.”
Jasmine snorted and Caleb recognized petty meanness surging through him. He continued, “But don’t expect me not to undertake a massive effort to change your mind.”
Something flickered in Dahlia’s eyes. Bright blue like an October sky, he noted. “Do your worst. I doubt you’ll get far.”
Caleb found himself clutching his chest, a motion he hoped appeared comical but he was worried to note was sincere. That did not bode well for him in his new home with this strange but intriguing woman.
“Can someone tell me, though, why it’s relevant that you won’t fuck me?”
“Because I’m supposed to be the mystery woman you came to Santa Barbara to be with. That’s what she told Harrison.”
Caleb turned to Jasmine, his mind whirling. She shrugged. “I had to think fast. You know I’m not a good liar. I‘m not creative at spinning tales. I told him you’d met someone, then I panicked and said you were coming here because I knew her. Then I panicked more and said because, of course, trying to be nice, I’d introduced you.”
Caleb frowned. Alice, tired of exploring, came to sit at his feet. She stared up at him and now, officially, all eyes were on him.
But Dahlia broke the spell. She took another long drink of water and said, “And then I had the misfortune to walk into the room and she blurted out that it was me who she’d introduced to you. Via the internet, no less.
“What did you do?” Caleb asked, sincerely curious.
“I kept my mouth shut because I had no clue what was going on. And though I find Jasmine challenging and exhausting…I like my job.”
Caleb looked at Jasmine to see how she was dealing with someone, a subordinate, no less, speaking about her that way. She looked frustrated but resigned.
There was a story here. For sure. But that was for another time.
“So, to sum up, Harrison will be stopping in. I’m supposed to be with her.” He pointed to Dahlia who smirked at him. “You introduced us,” he said, pointing to Jasmine.
Jasmine gave a short nod.
“I now actually have a job, under this roof, where I have to—at least when Harrison is around—pretend to be in love with her,” he pointed at Dahlia. “And I’ll see you on a regular basis but you’re back with your husband. Who thinks I’m here because I’m in love.”
“And I won’t fuck you,” Dahlia said.
“And she won’t fuck me,” he added, suppressing a laugh. It was so comical, so bizarre, it could have been a movie.
“Basically,” Jasmine said.
Then they all turned toward the door because tires were crunching over gravel. Harrison had arrived.


photo credit: Diamond Farah via photopin cc

A Many Splintered Thing / Day 10: “If the dog can’t stay neither can I.”

It's Friday! And we cracked, 14,000 words today. Can you believe that crazy shit? 
I'm looking forward to a nice big Pimm's cup later today. I have a great book ( Bird Box by Josh Malerman ) to read on the porch later and another on deck: The House of Small Shadows by Adam Nevill which I have been waiting FOREVER to read. 
Got any plans for the weekend? Your own version of the highly addictive Pimm's cup? Or perhaps a movie? Date night? A rendezvous with your hammock? Do tell.
But first, behold...day ten :)
XOXOSommer
~~~~~~~~
“Caleb, don’t be—“
He grabbed her arm. Harder than he intended. It took a breath to rein in his anger. He had to force himself to slowly let her arm go. It was half the size of his and his hand looked huge on her skin. Jasmine’s eyes had gone wide, but her pupils had dilated. He could see in her eyes an equal mix of fear and arousal.
“Do not say, Caleb, don’t be like that,” he said, putting his hands back on the steering wheel. “Don’t be like what? Don’t be pissed? I’m sitting here in fucking wine country, Santa Barbara, Lala land, a place I most definitely do not fit in, my dear. I have left my job, my house, my life to come here. And now you’ve patched things up with Biff Von Moneybags and I’m shit out of luck. Literally. I have a few hundred bucks, a dog I didn’t start out with and I’m exhausted. That’s all I have.”
“I can help you.”
“You’re the reason why I’m in this position.” He put his head down, inhaled deeply. “Correction. I’mthe reason I’m in this position. I was stupid enough to take you at your word and believe that it really could be different this time. That you’d made a major change. That you finally gotit. A person can be happy without money, Jasmine. A person can exist without a huge bank account.”
“Let me make it up to you,” she said. She looked like she wanted to touch him but she didn’t.
Caleb could practically see the wheels turning. He knew damn well she wanted to make him the guy. The guy who was waiting in a hotel room to fuck away the pain and worry and restlessness.
He gripped the wheel because part of him actually thought, I can do that. The other part of him wanted to smash something.
That’s not what he wanted to be. That’s not who he wanted to be.
“Just come up to the guest house. We have another employee who stays there. It’s part of the package deal. You have a salary, a job, a place to stay. While you’re there you can figure out what you want to do. If it’s leave, then you leave.”
He shut his eyes, trying to calm his heart. “What’s that job?”
“Same thing you were doing. Landscaping.”
His eyes popped open. “Landscaping! It’s a vineyard! There’s more land here than a dozen of me could care for.”
She shook her head and spared him a tight smile. “It’s just the land that belongs to the main house. Not the vineyard. The vineyard is cared for by other people, Caleb.”
He leaned out the window. “This is temporary. It’s because I have nowhere else to go and I’m running low on money. This is not because I agree to be your kept man.”
She snorted, amused by him.
“I’m not a dick in a hotel, Jas.”
“I never said you were,” she said softly.
He leveled a finger at her. “Oh, but you’re thinking it.”
“Caleb, just come up to the house. Get settled. Eat something. You can do whatever you like whenever you like. If you don’t want to see me again, or don’t want to be a part of my life, I can understand that. I messed everything up.” Her eyes were shiny. She was really pouring it on.
He was not fool enough to think these emotions were sincere. Oh, sure, she was a woman he’d drive a great distance for. Uproot himself and shake things up for. But he wasn’t stupid enough to think they were some great American love story. More like a Jackie Collins novel.
“Yes, you did. Now get in that little death trap of yours and lead me to the guest house. I’m tired, I’m filthy, I’m hungry and the poor dog has been cooped up in this car far too long.”
“Oh, Caleb,” she said. “I don’t know about a pet. This isn’t really a pet kind of place—“
“If the dog can’t stay neither can I.” There was no wiggle room on this.
She sighed as if he’d strapped a piano to her back. “Fine, fine! The dog can stay.”
“Alice,” he said.
“What?”
“Her name is Alice.”
“Oh,” Jasmine said, studying the dog. “You say that so defensively…like you’re defending her.”
“I am.” He patted Alice’s soft head.
“Look at you fawn over her,” she laughed. “Careful, I’ll start to think you like her more than me.”
He looked Jasmine right in the eye. “I do.”
When she smiled and he didn’t, she threw her shoulders back, straightened her spine and said, “Follow me up to the house. I have an appointment to get my hair done in an hour and I don’t want to be late.”
He started the Wagoneer and when she piloted the Spitfire through the gates he followed. Wondering what the fuck he was thinking. What the hell he was doing? He should turn around and go home. And yet part of him was determined not to do that. To adapt and do something else instead. Figure it out.
“Don’t worry,” he said to Alice. “I really do like you more than her.”
Together they followed the car to a house that was about four times the size of the bungalow he’d just left behind. “This is the guest house. Jesus fuck me.”
He pulled up next to a black Chevy pickup and got out. His legs felt both rubbery and stiff at the same time. Caleb cracked his back and then touched his toes. Alice hopped to his seat and he patted his thigh. “Come on, girl. Get out and stretch yourself.”
He didn’t have to ask her twice. She hopped down and immediately went to the grass and peed. Jasmine walked close. Close enough that he could smell her perfume. He remembered a thousand years ago when she wore Poison. Depending on her mood any given day he’d often thought it appropriate.
“I’m sorry for this. I truly am. I thought…I thought it would be different.”
“You’re not the only one.” Then: “Who am I living with? What lucky person has to put up with the likes of me even temporarily?”
“I think she’ll be fine with you. Nothing rattles Dahlia. And I mean nothing. She’s practically a guy,” Jasmine said, wrinkling her nose.
“Dahlia? That brings to mind not too great things.”
“It’s a flower, Caleb.”
He sighed again. He was sighing a lot. Jasmine was a sigh-inducing person. Another thing he’d forgotten. “I know that, Jasmine. I meant the Black Dahlia case. Famous murder mystery. Unsolved to this day, if I’m not mistaken…”
“Oh.” Jasmine shuddered. “Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“What does Dahlia do?”
“She cleans. The main house, the guest house, the tasting pavilion.”
“Alone?”
“Mostly, but if we’re having an event she gets a crew. We don’t overburden her, Caleb, don’t worry.”He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Well, is she in there? I’ll introduce myself and Alice. And I’ll assure her this is only temporary. Very temporary.”
“No. She’s not in there. Here’s she comes.”
Caleb turned to where Jasmine pointed and there she was. Tall—taller than Jas—and curvy. She was a true hour glass figure if he’d ever seen one. Black cowboy boots worn with pale, well-worn jeans and a black tank top. Her hair was twisted into two braids and she wore aviator shades. What color were her eyes, he wondered almost instantly. And then found himself surprised by the errant thought. As she got closer she saw the three long scars that started at her right collar bone and disappeared down into the neck of the tank top. His mind immediately wanted to follow them down to their logical conclusion. Somehow the marks on her skin made her fiercer—even more beautiful.
Screw what color are her eyes, what the hell had done that to her?
She didn’t smile but he could tell that behind those amber lenses, her eyes—regardless of color—were studying him intently.

photo credit: Bhumika.B via photopin cc

A Many Splintered Thing / Day 9: “Don’t. There are cameras on the gate and the guys at the gatehouse can see.”

Well, it's unanimous! No one likes Jasmine. And to that I say...good! You weren't supposed to. So I take your dislike of her as a compliment. Now we find out what's changed. Any guesses before you read? Hopefully we're taking a left turn when you expected a right...
Let me know ;)
XOXOSommer
Wine country. He had to laugh as he piloted his old Wagoneer through spectacular landscapes past expensive cars. But not all were expensive. He smiled, eyeing a vintage Woody as it passed by followed, not long after, by a VW bus that made his Jeep look like a brand spanking new ride.
“Leave it to Jasmine to live in fucking wine country.”
According to the GPS he was only a mile from the address she’d given him. However, he came upon a gate marked Curved Leaf Vineyards. He stopped and texted her.
AT THE GATE. NOT BUZZING IN. COME DOWN.
All the hair on the back of his neck stood at attention and her words echoed in his ears. Something has changed. We need to talk.
He sat there, watching Alice who patiently watched the traffic.
“Thank god one female in my life is calm and reliable,” he told her. She smiled. At least it looked like she smiled. “I had forgotten how things had a way of getting twisted and complicated with Jasmine.”Another smile from the dog. A pant. A dip of her head that looked like commiseration.
“I think my brain shut all that out. I was remembering the sex.” He looked at her. “You’re young and innocent,” he said. “At least I think you’re young, it’s hard to tell. But I’ll spare you information about the sex. Let’s just say it was filthy most of the time.” He put his head in his hands. Suddenly his whole head seemed to ache. Probably with the weight of what he’d just done. What he’d set himself up for. Here he was on the opposite coast of where he started at the beck and call of a woman who most would call spoiled and some would call finicky. No job, no house, no friends…no clue.
“I am a moron,” he told Alice, and she licked his hand.
His phone went off and he looked at it.
I CAN’T!
He answered. Clean, no bullshit, concise: YOU CAN AND YOU WILL OR I TURN AROUND AND HEAD HOME. PERIOD.
Then he sat back and waited. The phone finally buzzed and one word appeared.
FINE
Caleb was studying what he had to admit was a spectacular horizon when the gates began to swing open. He assumed it was Jasmine coming until he saw a big-ass red pickup truck pulling abreast of him. “Lost, friend?”
Both men did a double take and then Harrison Day was smiling at Caleb from his I-think-I’m-a-cowboy picke-em-up truck as Caleb’s Uncle Tom used to call them.
“Caleb!” Harrison called, smiling.
It threw Caleb more than he could begin to comprehend. “Harrison,” he said, warily.
“How are you? How was your trip?”
Caleb opened his mouth and then quickly closed it. He even glanced at the dog as if for either moral support or input.
“Uh…it was fine. I guess.”
Harrison talked as if he knew Caleb was coming. Even like he’d been expecting him. Caleb prided himself on usually knowing what the fuck was going on around him at any given time. At that moment he was utterly stumped and not too proud to admit it. At least to himself.
“Want to follow me up?”
“Is that…” Caleb petered off, unsure of how to phrase it.
“Most of that is driveway.”
“Driveway?” Caleb repeated. Amazed.
“Yeah. Driveway. Heh.” Harrison laughed.
In his head Caleb heard: Married? Yeah—married—jeesh! A throwback memory to the bad old days. One of the handfuls of beloved escapist movies his mother would play endlessly on cable, or if she was lucky enough to own it, on VHS when his father got bad. Which was often.
“That’s okay. I’ll wait. She said—“Did he admit this part, he wondered. He was so confused. “She’d come down,” he finished weakly. Alice put her head down and shut her eyes.
“Okay, then. I guess I’ll see you shortly.” Harrison tossed him a wave and began up the driveway in his shiny red truck.
“What. The. Fuck?” Caleb said.
He had to wait another ten minutes, alternately looking at the scenery, the traffic and the dog. He checked his phone a thousand times until he spotted a little yellow sports car ripping toward him beyond the elaborate gates.
“Jas—“ he said under his breath.
The gates swung open once again and the car—a Triumph Spitfire circa mid 70s from the looks of it—zipped out and parked by the shrubbery that bordered the fence. She got out, long dark hair flying in the soft breeze. She wore a hot pink dress that looked simple and probably cost a fucking fortune. Silver sandals flashed in the sunshine as she headed toward him, her mouth set in a tight line he recognized as frustration, anger and just a hint of sadness.
“Jesus,” he said. “What is going on?”
Alice looked at him but didn’t move. She seemed tense. It was Jasmine. Her body language was making him tense and she hadn’t even reached the Jeep. He thought maybe he should unlock the door, open it, get out. Take her in his arms? No, that didn’t see realistic at the moment.
She got to the window and practically hissed at him. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Something happened.”
“What the fuck is going on?” He put his hand on her arm, thinking perhaps to draw her in. Maybe a god damn kiss after three thousand miles and change.
But she shook her head once and whispered, “Don’t. There are cameras on the gate and the guys at the gatehouse can see.”
“Jasmine, do you want to fill me in? I mean, seriously. What’s going on? I think I’ve skipped over pissed and fast forwarded right to angry. Truly angry.”
“I told daddy I was leaving Harrison. Told him what Harrison had done—who Harrison had done. I figured if he knew my husband was cheating on me, then he’d let me out of this and not hold the money thing over my head.” She put her head down for a second, dark hair falling over her face, shielding those bright eyes of hers.
“But he didn’t.”
“No. He didn’t. He told me if Harrison’s messing around bothered me, I should do the tit for tat thing and take a lover.” She finally looked right at him. “My father told me that. My father!”
Caleb was starting to catch on. “So…”
“He’s invested a lot of money in this vineyard. He’s invested a lot of money in a lot of things with Harrison. He’s apparently invested me in it.”
“You could just walk away, you know.”
“Caleb—“
“It’s the same old song and dance,” he said, feeling his jaw clamp down. His back teeth sang from the pressure. “Poor me, poor me, I can’t, I can’t. Nobody loves me. Nobody cares.” He was trying to keep his voice low, his mood level. But he was failing. He knew because Alice whimpered softly.
“You don’t—“
“I don’t understand,” he said. “Which is true. Because I’ve never had everything handed to me. You asked me to leave my life, my job, my friends and drive out here to be with you because you changed your mind. But you really didn’t. You were just looking for your father to let you off the hook. You weren’t taking control of your life, you thought you’d found a loophole, Jas. You thought you’d found a way to keep all the easy and get rid of the hard. We’d all like that in life,” he laughed. “Wouldn’t it be fucking grand? Sadly, it doesn’t really work that way.”
She looked like she would cry and instead of feeling sympathy he felt the urge to choke her until her bright reality-blind eyes bugged.
“Caleb, I’m sorry.”
That was a miracle right here, an apology from her, but it was also too little too late. “Now, what the fuck am I supposed to do?” He rapped a hand against the steering wheel and Alice whimpered again. He felt bad for her and reached out a hand to soothe her. “And why is your philandering husband acting like he’s expecting me? It’s like the Twilight Zone.”
“I told him you were coming,” she mumbled.
“Pardon me? Why the hell would you do that?”
“Because I knew you were already almost here. And I wanted you to come, I thought maybe we could, um, work something out.” She tugged a piece of hair. He saw where this was going. She wanted the dust to clear and then for him to be that lover her father told her to take. Only daddy and Harrison could never know it was him.
She hurried on, “I wanted to see you. But I had talked to daddy already and…Caleb! I didn’t know what to do! I knew I’d be leaving you in the lurch if I just said don’t come.”
“Understatement of the year.”
“So, I told him I hired you because you’d met someone out here. You wanted to move out here but had nowhere to go and no job prospects. He thinks we’re helping you…with a job, and a place.”
He just looked at her. Caleb found himself at a loss for words. Truly. Finally, when she looked up at him, trying to appear innocent and frail so he wouldn’t yell, he just said, “You’re insane. You told him I met someone?”
“Online,” she said.
“Online,” he repeated.
“Well, actually, I told him I sort of introduced you both.”
“This just keeps getting better. I met someone online via your relationship charity and want to move out here to be with her. Someone,” he said again, softly.
“Yeah, about that. I told him who that someone is.” She sighed.
“Oh, Christ, this should be good…”

photo credit: millerm217 via photopin cc

P.S. In case you don't get my newsletter, I did want to address this. Because some people seem concerned for me. Which is sweet.

From my newsletter:

Several people have written to ask why? Why would you write a free live novel now? With all that's going on? One person even said, "when you need to earn money the most". LOL. Well, I love when people worry about me but I'll break it down.

1. I'm selfish. Doing something like this takes me out of myself, out of my head, out of the weirdness that can crop up here on any given day.
2. I LOVE my readers. I love them so much that hearing over the years (I did Wanderlust in 2011) how much they enjoyed Wanderlust, I wanted to do it again. To experience that journey with them.
3. I believe that putting yourself out there, giving of yourself, and trusting that you'll get what you need is the way to go. So I give folks a novel. Maybe they like it so much and are impatient (like moi) and go buy one of my books. Maybe they go mad and buy all my books and load nothing but me on their Kindle and go on a Marsden book binge and...*cough* that might be a bit much. Let's just stick with the maybe they like me and go buy a book part.