Cate Masters's Blog, page 96

What's coming up?

This year's BlogFest promises to be better than ever! Have you signed up yet? 
I have! And I'll have some tempting goodies for you. More about that later. (Yes, I'm going to keep you hanging, lol) 
First, you should visit here to sign up your blog. It's free, and there are no minimum requirements. 
Thanks so much to Cinnamon Brown for organizing this fun event!
Also - just a reminder today that Paty Jager's in the hot seat at Author Chat - click on the badge to the right to access it. I'm sure she'd love to hear from you! She has an exciting new release, a very cool Native American paranormal, so check it out!

I know I'd said earlier that this year, I was going to slow down on blogging. But while my computer time's been very limited due to circumstances, there's still so much going on! I have more news about a new release next week I'm very excited about. More re-releases from previously pubbed stories that I'm putting out myself. Next month will be very busy, especially with Rock Bottom coming out (yay!) from Lyrical Press. In July, more re-releases, plus *another* new release, which I'm also excited (and a little nervous) about. I'll be visiting some blogs of wonderful author friends, and hope you'll visit.

I'm hoping soon to get back to my Writing Tips blog series too. Craft is something at which I work very hard, and now that I'm releasing some stories on my own, it's imperative. Many times, I'll share links about great writing tips on my Facebook page, so if you haven't already clicked "Like," I'd love it if you would now. :) It's very simple - click the Like button at right! Thanks so much.

And by the way, I've made it easy for you to see all my Blog Series  - just click the tab above! I'll add links as I post them. Hope you enjoy it!

Casting Call: Just the Right Amount of Wrong

To celebrate the release of my contemporary interracial erotic romance, here's a peek at the hero and heroine who played the parts in my head while I wrote this novella.


Sara Mullaney's tough, smart and sometimes a little hard-headed. Raised in a small North Carolina town, she's tired of the prejudice people -- especially her parents -- show to the local Latinos. In high school, she and her boyfriend Ravelo Pena had planned to revive the area economy and help the local farmers. When Rav left for college, she waited, but never heard from him. Seeing him again brings too many emotions rushing up - anger and love, determination and fear.
Maybe I watched The Princess Bride too often (one of my daughters loved it too much, lol) but Robin Wright Penn made a big impression on me. She has all the qualities I envisioned in Sara.


Ravelo Pena's a typical overachiever. His parents, born in Puerto Rico, push him hard to succeed. But when it comes to love, they'd rather he'd find a nice Latino girl. When he leaves for college, they urge him to move on in his relationships too. As much as he hates to leave Sara behind, he wonders if his parents are right. When he returns home, he has no doubt - they were wrong.
Rav's also tough, smart and stubborn. Sounds like a match made in heaven! lol Also extremely sexy, Benjamin Bratt fits Rav to a tee. Don't you think? :)


Just the Right Amount of Wrong is available on Kindle and Smashwords for just $1.99. I hope you'll check it out!

New release - Just the Right Amount of Wrong

Just the Right amount of Wrong is now available on Kindle and Smashwords for just $1.99!
This novella's been sitting on my hard drive for years. It's been through countless revisions, and the story line's finally where I want it. 
When I saw this image, I knew it was perfect for the cover. :) This story's a little steamier than I usually write, but these two characters knew what they wanted - each other.



Here's a short excerpt:
For an awkward moment, he hesitated, a mix of admiration and fear plain on his face. "Hello."Though she suspected the answer, she asked, "Would you like to come in, or should we go?" Her stomach tightened when she imagined him stepping inside, closing the door and locking it, that predator heat shining in his eyes. So much for being immune to such thoughts."Sorry. The last time I came to your front door, your father said something about removing some of my vital organs before he'd let me cross the threshold. Has he grown more tolerant?"Flashing a grin, she recalled the night so long ago. "Probably not. But he moved to Florida, where I'm assuming he deals with many more nationalities than here." Sara never felt comfortable at Rav's house either. His mother's tight smiles did little to hide her disapproval, and when she learned that Sara knew Spanish, stopped conveying her dismay to her son – at least while Sara was near."Does he know I'm here?" Rav peered inside with no hint of humor.The question took her off guard. "No.""Then I shouldn't come in."Respectful as ever. She never could understand why her parents objected to Rav, always twice the gentleman as other boys. Except that he was Latino; 'not our kind', her mother used to say. They held even his politeness against him, claiming it false.Remembering only made her angry with her parents' smallmindedness all over again. "I'll get my purse."Spying the solar lights on the dining room table, she cursed herself for forgetting. If she didn't let them recharge outdoors today, she'd suffer the darkness tonight. Grabbing them, she shut the door behind her and smiled. "Ready?"
I hope you'll come back tomorrow to check out the Casting Call for this story!

Clever marketing

What an awesome marketing plan! I'm sure you've seen this, but The Centers for Disease Control put out a blog post instructing people on how to prepare for a zombie apocalypse.

Yep, the genius who thought this up deserves a raise. Or a contract as a Hollywood promoter. :) How savvy, to tap into the current zombie craze to get out their  own message? Wish I could hire this person to promote my books.

Another example of an excellent marketing tool is this book trailer:



It looks more like a movie trailer, doesn't it? And it's only 30 seconds long. Oh, to have the big production bucks!

But the CDC blog post proves you don't need the big bucks. Just a great idea.

Have you noticed any really great promotions lately? Or have you thought of any for your books? Please share!

More San Francisco Dreams for Six Sentence Sunday

Thanks so much to everyone who visits each week! Your comments always give me a boost, and I love reading the SSS entries. I try to visit as many as I can.
To celebrate the recent release of my historical set during the 1906 San Francisco earthquake, here are another six from San Francisco Dreams. To set the scene, Norah Hawkins has just joined a card game on board the train where Gerard "Mac" MacKenzie's playing. Before boarding the train, Mac had glimpsed Norah picking the old biddy's pockets, so he's rightfully wary of her, and yet also attracted to her:
Hell's bells. There she sat, in all her pretended glory. Mac's father had always told him he'd been born under a bad moon, and he'd have to steal a four-leaf clover to have any luck. This woman following him bore a worse ill omen than a banshee. A beautiful one, yes, with an entrancing smile, but he'd already glimpsed her true nature. Oh, he'd love to acquaint her with his rules of play. 
Mac bears a striking resemblance to Gerard Butler, doesn't he? ;)Check out all the awesome Six Sentence Sunday authors here.

New trailer for upcoming contemporary

I just finished the trailer this week for Rock Bottom, my contemporary romance coming next month from Lyrical Press! This was another really fun story to write. Because the hero's a rocker, it allowed me to write about my second love: music.


Here's the blurb:

For rocker Jet Trently, success means playing the same platinum-selling hits over and over. Philly rock journalist Billie Prescott thrives on covering the latest releases. When her editor sends her to Malibu to cover Jet's reality dating show, Rock Bottom, her blog's success keeps her trapped there. Her life's at Rock Bottom too, until she hears Jet's new songs. They touch her heart as his music did when she was 15. When Jet touches her heart as well, will the reality show ruin the real thing?
And a mini-excerpt:Billie affected a sharp business tone. "Already did. I'm Billie Prescott from Strung Out. My editor spoke with Mr. Gilbert about covering the show?"Jet's eyes widened. "You're Billie Prescott?"Billie had a feeling she'd just made Jet's Lust Have list, though she had no doubt the list, if printed, would require reams of paper. If he licked his lips, she'd be out of there before he could retract his tongue. "You're expecting me, aren't you?""Billie Prescott, yes. You--no." His appreciative gaze wandered the length of her.The trio chuckled in unison.Like she didn't get that same response every freakin' time. Biting back a snide reply, she forced out, "Do you have an information packet for me? Something that will help me catch up on where season one ended?"Stu glanced at Jet. "Cindy can put something together."Jet tilted his head. "Not a fan, eh?"If she didn't know better, she'd think he appeared pleased.Wrinkling her nose, she grinned. Let that be answer enough."Pity you weren't a contestant." He arched a brow and turned to the third man. "Now there's an idea."




I'd love your feedback! Thanks for checking it out.

Cover love

I can't help it, I am in love with these covers. :)  I wanted to give you a sneak peek at what's coming up! These are my beauties...
The Duende and the Muse - short fantasy. First published by The Wild Rose Press, I just re-released this one on Kindle and Smashwords. I've rewritten it to include a bit more about the Elder Muses, which were fun to write with a modern twist. Read reviews, an excerpt and learn more about this title here!
Clio's Choice - short paranormal.  First published by Freya's Bower as The Lure of the Vine. I always hated that title, but could never think of a good one. Clio's Choice is better, and this cover's definitely better! After I wrote The Duende and the Muse, I wanted to do something a little more serious about the gods. I have several gods and goddesses in other stories, but in this one, it's The God of the Vine, Dionysus (hence the awful title, lol).  Still rewriting this story, but the rights revert to me after this month, so I'm aiming for sometime next month to re-release it. This cover model's gorgeous, and I love all her shots, but managed to whittle it down to this one.
Writing Off the Past - short contemporary. First published by Wild Child Publishing as Liberation via Pen -- another title that made me cringe, and completely my own fault, as I simply blanked on it. This one's more fitting, and the cover's just as fun as the original. The rights revert to me after this month too, so I'll re-release it sometime this summer. 
Soul for Sale - paranormal novella. First published by Eternal Press as One Soul for Sale, it's sometimes categorized as horror. The rights revert to me in June, so I will likely re-release it in mid-June on Amazon and Smashwords. If you're at all familiar with the story, the cat is perfect. If you're not, I hope you'll buy it and become familiar with it. :)
Picture This - contemporary romantic women's fiction. First published by Eternal Press, the rights will revert to me in August, so after a rewrite, I will re-release it then.
Wilderness Girl - contemporary humorous erotic romance. Yeah, that's a mouthful, lol, but I had fun mashing the genres. First published by Freya's Bower, the rights will become mine again in September, so look for it under this new cover at Amazon and Smashwords.
Just the Right Amount of Wrong - contemporary erotic interracial women's fiction. I can't tell you how many times I've revised this story. I'll have a big announcement about it next week (it's already out there, shhh!) but wanted to share this cover. Got beefcake? Oh yeah.
Dead to Rights - fantasy/urban fantasy.  Another shiny brand new story! I'm very excited about it. I know I already posted this one, but I love it so much, I'm sharing it again. :)
I had so much fun creating these, and got so carried away, I even bought an image for a story I haven't finished writing. I'm going to submit the story to one pub I've targeted, but if it's rejected, the cover's ready to go. And it's fantastic! lol

Another full-length fantasy novel, The Magic of Lavender, is subbed to a publisher, but I also have a very cool cover for that all set just in case. This story's the first in The Goddess Connection series. I have the second story in the series somewhat outlined in my head, but need the time to write it. :)
So these are my lovelies. What do you think?

Story Elements: San Francisco Dreams

I can't remember what first caught my attention about the 1906 earthquake in San Francisco. Once I began researching it, I couldn't stop. So many elements resonate today - natural disasters are a too-frequent occurrence of our lives. 
Before April 18, 1906, San Francisco was a wild city of 400,000 people, making it the ninth largest American city of that time. Nearly every vice imaginable could be found there, particularly in the Barbary District. It was the Victorian Age, but peep shows, nickelodeons showing scandalous videos, dance halls and whore houses enjoyed great success because the Mayor was easily bribed, like his Vice Squad.
The Barbary District was also where the term "shanghai'd" came into play. Men who wandered alone into alleys or near the bay sometimes found themselves kidnapped, headed on ships to Shanghai.
San Francisco captivated my imagination, as I'm sure it did for many people who visited in its heyday. The earthquake changed a way of life for many residents.
The disaster was immense in magnitude. Though the Richter Scale hadn't yet been invented, geologists estimated it at about 7.8. 
More than 3,000 died. Many perished in the earthquake itself, but the resulting fires killed many more. Lasting for days because of broken water mains, these fires were so intense, they sometimes erupted into fireballs and engulfed anyone in their path. Smoke blackened the skies.
Crumbling structures buried or trapped other people, oftentimes too quickly to react. More than once, police took pity on men either caught on fiery rooftops or pinned by debris too heavy to move - and shot them before they could burn alive.
Men were deputized as special police whose actions later came into question. At the Mayor's direction, they shot looters on sight. More than 1700 soldiers arrived to help, but some of the soldiers themselves were seen looting. The military's attempt to halt the fires by dynamiting entire city blocks was a miserable failure.
On the afternoon of the quake, a telegraph operator tapped out this final message: city destroyed by fire, Examiner building just fell in a heap. Fire all around us in every direction. Destruction by earthquake something frightful. They are blowing up standing buildings in the path of flames. No water. It's awful. I want to get out of here. Or be blown up.
People wandered the streets in a daze. Amazingly, once food rations and supplies arrived by train, people rolled up their sleeves and got to work. Everyone was determined to rebuild the city. They cleared debris, saving whatever materials they might reuse. So much debris, in fact, that 15,000 horses died in hauling it away - and contractors figured into estimates the value of the animals they knew they'd have to replace.
Work on the street car system began almost immediately, and ten days later, Mayor Schmidts inaugurated service on a new line. Concerned about a possible epidemic, the city offered a bounty for dead rats.
The PBS Documentary The Great San Francisco Earthquake's available on YouTube in six fascinating segments. Here is the first:
 I hope you found this as fascinating as I did. I loved writing this story, and throwing Norah and Mac into these dramatic times. I hope you'll check out their story too. :)

First Chapter: San Francisco Dreams

Chapter One
 Norah Hawkins stepped from Sofie's Hat Shop wearing her most prized possession: a gown of silk, green to set off her eyes. And to honor her dearest love and only thing in the world she could trust. Money.Her new smart uptilted bonnet boasting a side spray of pheasant feathers made her giddy with happiness. It perfectly matched her outfit, and turned the heads of passersby.Once she traveled to San Francisco in this getup, she'd fool the high fallutin' society folk into believing she was one of them. Not like these Trenton females, who gave her a wide berth, as if they were New Jersey royalty and she a mere pauper. And soon, the men would flock to her new saloon like roosters at feeding time. Nixing her usual jaunty step, she strolled ladylike – well, as ladylike as she'd ever managed – onto the walkway. Damn this rain. The one snag in her plan to escape this dreary city. She skittered under the shop overhangs until she reached Amos' Dry Goods. A book would keep her company on the train ride west.A copy of Mark Twain's Following the Equator drew her to the book shelf. The dollar price outraged her, but Mr. Samuel Clemons was her favorite author, so she'd buy it. The dang book wouldn't fit in this tiny silk purse. The price of femininity, she allowed, tucking the book under her arm.The sight of a man outside the window jolted her to a halt. His piercing stare pricked her skin like sleet on a summer's day. Though a stranger, he watched her as if he knew what she was thinking. Despite her fancy clothes, she could swear he saw through to her very bones with those eyes. Beautiful, blue eyes. They burned with such fire, her skin near ignited from the heat. Framed by smooth, dark locks that curled to his collar, his stare burned into her like a branding iron, leaving an indelible mark. Then, with one flick of his brow, he set his cap at a rakish angle and turned away. Dismissed her, just like that.Anger burned her cheeks. How dare he! He knew nothing about her, yet he treated her no better than the riffraff in this awful town had all her life. Good thing he was leaving, or she'd give him a good snub.His gait purposeful yet slow, he walked away with the bearing of a king—or a predator, all wild energy contained within rippling muscles, ready to spring. She pitied any prey he set his sights on. Lucky for her she wouldn't have to see him again. Unless the train passed him, then maybe she'd wave her lace handkerchief out the window at him.Passing the candy counter, she palmed a few licorice and peppermint sticks, and deftly slid them into her purse. Not too small for those.Her eye caught a familiar figure approaching. Mrs. Hathaway, the snake-tongued biddy. In passing, Norah bumped her shoulder hard into the matronly woman's.Mrs. Hathaway gasped. "Oh my. I'm very sorry. I hope I didn't muss your dress. It's so beautif—" Meeting Norah's cool appraisal, Mrs. Hathaway hissed, "You.""Dear me. I do apologize." For not doing this years ago."Finery can't disguise a…" Mrs. Hathaway whispered the last. "…hussy.""Mm." Norah slowly scanned the woman's barrel-like form. "Why Martha, for once, I do believe you're right. Honestly, a woman of your age shouldn't wear rouge."The biddy resembled a chicken that had lost its squawk. "Why, I never."Norah leaned close. "That's not what I heard. But then, you of all people, know how untrustworthy gossips can be."When Mrs. Hathaway swooned, Norah caught her. "There there. Someone fetch a glass of water for this poor dear. Unless you prefer whiskey, as the rumors allow."Mrs. Hathaway snapped straight. With an indignant huff, she stomped off.With a shrug, Norah flashed her sweetest smile at the dispersing crowd. "It appears she's fine after all." A little lighter in the purse, but the biddy needed to lose a little weight anyway. Norah was more than happy to oblige, after all the good turns Mrs. Hathaway had done for her.Her conscience niggled at her when she noticed the stranger watching her again through the shop window. Had he seen the crime? A pang of regret shot through her. In leaving Trenton, she sought to abandon her wily ways. Not so easy as she'd imagined. Besides, if he reported the deed, the sheriff would arrest her, and she'd miss the train.Lifting her chin, she silently dared him to challenge her. The letter in her purse gave her the strength to face nearly anything now. Though she'd read it a thousand times, she still had to read it a few times every day to be sure it was true.It said:Dear Miss Hawkins,This letter serves as notice to inform you that the property at 377 Third Street, San Francisco, has been secured in your name. The two-story building is sound in structure. However, our attorneys await your approval before finalizing the paperwork. Please arrange the earliest possible passage to make an inspection. Should you reject it, similar properties are available.Sincerely,Nicholas Abernathy, Attorney at lawAt first, she'd believed it a terrible ruse. Dan Jamison, the only man she trusted, had assured her the seal looked authentic. Of course, it had to be a mistake.No matter. Since the letter arrived, she'd planned her getaway for real instead of dreaming about it.Nothing, and no one, would stand in her way. She glared at the stranger. Disappointment deflated her when he turned away at the approach of another man, older and more distinguished than himself. Together, they strode past the window and out of sight.Men. Other than Dan, she'd never met one who could hold her interest. Or was worth the trouble. But she'd always thought of Dan as a father, or the closest she'd ever get to one.She gave the store clerk her widest smile and paid for the book.****Cold rain dripped past Gerard McKenzie's collar onto his neck. Stepping beneath the store's overhang, he hunched into his overcoat and growled, "Damn."One check of his inside pocket ensured it was still there. The train ticket. He'd had enough of the East Coast and its uppity folk. After reading that San Francisco held every pleasure a man could dream of, he knew it was the place for him. No more snow and ice. No more playing piano in run down barrooms for unappreciative drunks.To block the chill, he stepped closer to the store window and peered inside. The sight of a young lady transfixed him. In a silken dress of green, and fancy feathered hat to match, she might have been any snobbish society woman shopping with her mother.Until he noticed the deft movement of her hand. He guessed she'd pickpocketed more than a few dollars without the elder woman suspecting. Oh, she was good, and he'd seen some of the best.Why, he wondered, would she bother, when she obviously had no need?She glanced up and caught his stare. Those eyes, as green as the Emerald Isle on a sunny spring day, sent a jolt through him. Her chestnut hair tumbled in loose curls to her shoulders. His fingers clenched, wanting to slide through those silky strands to grasp her neck, then press her delicate jaw up to receive his wanton kiss.She stared as if reading his thoughts. If he had another day in Trenton, he might go inside. He wouldn't need to try too hard to strike up a conversation, he guessed. Her eyes held enough fire to burn him all night.Oh, dangerous thoughts. Hell's bells, what was wrong with him? Obviously, she was a dangerous woman. He'd had his fill of devious females, and women nagging him to settle down. Like he needed a passel of rugrats tying him to a daily job he despised. If he'd wanted that, he'd have joined his father in the coal mines, and would still have a family who welcomed him home.No, in San Francisco, he could live as he pleased. He was a man free of worry, free of ties, and he intended to stay that way.The heat in her eyes diluted, but sent a slow burn through him. She tilted up her chin, exposing her graceful neck.If he had even a few hours, he'd start by tasting that delicious skin. Good thing his train left soon.****Norah slipped through the alley, sidestepping the mud holes until she reached the entrance of the bordello behind the saloon.As she paused in the doorway to scan the room, heads turned and conversations quieted. Norah tried not to show her dismay. For so early in the day, patrons kept the girls busy.Sal stood to the side in her usual sentry spot, surveying her realm.Norah made a beeline to her. "Is she busy?"Sal snapped her gaping mouth shut. "Norah. Well I'll be. Look at you." She clucked her tongue and smiled.Norah grasped the woman's hands. "I'm short on time, Sal. Is she upstairs?"Sal's smile faded. "Yes."Without realizing, she squeezed hard. "Alone?"Tugging her hands away, Sal said, "I believe she is now, yes.""Thanks." She kissed Sal's cheek and resisted the urge to take the stairs two at a time, like usual. She wasn't a tomboy anymore.At the room farthest down the hall, she knocked, surprised her hand was trembling."Come in," called a woman's muffled voice.Closing her eyes, Norah took a fortifying breath and went in. Stale booze and sex filled the air.Estelle lay, one shoulder bared, stretched across the bed. At seeing Norah, she yanked her robe high and sat up. "Oh, it's you. What's the occasion?"Moving in front of the bed, Norah clutched her purse so tight, the clasp bit into her palm. "My train leaves in less than an hour."Estelle cackled. "You always were a dreamer."Did Estelle think Norah was playing dressup? As if she ever had the luxury of that. Norah produced the ticket from the lining of her purse. "Not this time." After safely replacing the ticket, she handed the stolen peppermint to her. "Here, I got this for you."Her smile sad, Estelle took the candy. "You know how to get on my good side."Too bad it never lasted long. "You look tired.""Late nights take a toll when you're past thirty."More like forty, but Norah wouldn't argue. "So quit." Like Estelle had promised, for years.With a wave, Estelle said, "I'm not depending on some man to take care of me. I'm better off taking care of myself."Stubborn as ever. Norah handed over her take from Mrs. Hathaway. "Then don't buy whiskey with this." Another vice she'd promised to quit. This time, Norah wouldn't be around to help her get back on her feet.Estelle hesitated about a second before accepting the money. "What about you? How will you get along?"Norah stared out the window at the city below. She couldn't wait until it was nothing but a speck on the horizon. "Same as I always have.""You always were an independent cuss."By necessity, not choice. "I learned from the best." Maybe she should thank her. Norah might have ended up like this.Estelle's laugh rumbled. She looked past Norah, lost in the view. "You could always stay. Sal's always said you'd be her best girl.""I can't." Not in her nature, demeaning herself for men.Green eyes misty, Estelle asked, "Will you at least write me when you get there?""Sure." Not that Estelle would read it. She couldn't. But Sal could read it to her. Norah leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Take care of yourself."Running a hand down the fabric of Norah's skirt, Estelle sighed. "Will you come back someday?""You never know. Bye, Mama." This once, she defied her mother in using the endearment. No one could hear."Bye, baby." Estelle stared, as if she didn't recognize the person standing before her.Norah took a good long look too. Maybe her last.Turning, she swiped a tear from her cheek. No time for tears. She had to get to the station, so she hitched up her skirts and ran downstairs.She hugged Sal. "Look out for her, will you?""I will. You stay out of harm's way, darlin'.""I always do." Finally, Norah's life felt on the right track.She hurried downstairs and peeked around the corner into the bar, where Jim Whalen wiped down the wooden counter.Oh no. She turned to Sal. "Where's Dan?""He works later. You haven't told him?"The few times she mustered up enough gumption, it failed her at the last minute. "I meant to today."Sal said softly, "I'll let him know.""Thanks Sal. For everything." If Estelle had been more like Sal… She brushed the thought away. "Goodbye."On her way to the door, an arm gripped her waist and whirled her around. She met the grinning leer, and whiskey breath, of Thurmond Alcott."Where you going?" he asked in a thick voice."Let go. I'm warning you." You disgusting toad."Not till you give me what I want." He pressed her against the wall, his hands inching lower. "You've teased me long enough."Never, and she had no patience for teasing today. She relaxed against his grip. "Have I?" She gave a throaty laugh and lifted her knee to his waist.His voice turned husky. "That's better. Sassy little girl. You need a spanking."She interrupted his guttural chuckle by sliding the knife from her boot and pressing its sharp blade to his throat. "One thrust, and I'll cut you ear to ear, Alcott. A nice big grin for your funeral. Your wife wouldn't be much pleased to find out why you got cut though, would she?"Arms raised, he edged back. "Now, Norah. You know I was only fooling."For years? She'd had her fill of men boasting they'd had her. No man had. Or would, until she decided.Her trembling blade followed his retreat. "And you know I'm dead serious."Sal laid a hand on her shoulder. "Go Norah. Catch that train."Norah's nerves settled at Sal's touch, and she nodded.Alcott's gaze sharpened. "Aw now, don't think you're leaving us, Norah.""Try and stop me." Soon, she'd clean the dust of this filthy town from her beautiful new leather boots, from every wave of her hair and from the deepest recesses of her soul. Thinking of all the times this scum had made rude remarks while grabbing her, she pressed the knife tip harder against his skin. "You're lucky I'm leaving. Or I might have to make this lesson permanent."Alcott winced. "Goodbye, Miss Hawkins." The way he looked heavenward, he must wish she were already gone.It made her laugh. Almost. "Good riddance."The grandfather clock showed she had no more time for such dalliances.

Thanks for reading! 
San Francisco Dreams is available for just $1.99 on Amazon Kindle and Smashwords. I hope you'll check it out!

On Wednesday, I'll feature it in the Story Elements series, so I hope you'll stop by then.

California dreamin' for Six Sentence Sunday

Thanks so much to everyone who drops by each week! Sundays feel like a blog party. :) I love reading your comments, and especially reading everyone else's entries.
This week, I'm sharing six from my newly released historical, San Francisco Dreams, set during the 1906 earthquake there. The heroine, Norah Hawkins, is a feisty girl, necessary due to her unfortunate circumstances. To set up this snippet, she's about to leave her terrible past behind, but while waiting for her train to San Francisco, runs into the snake-tongued biddy who's made her life miserable for too long. Payback is sweet. :)
"Finery can't disguise a…" Mrs. Hathaway whispered the last. "…hussy.""Mm." Norah slowly scanned the woman's barrel-like form. "Why Martha, for once, I do believe you're right. Honestly, a woman of your age shouldn't wear rouge." The biddy resembled a chicken that had lost its squawk. 
Tomorrow I'm starting a new blog series called First Chapters, and will be posting -- you guessed it -- the first chapter of San Francisco Dreams. I hope you'll stop by. Norah's not done with old Martha yet. :)Meanwhile, check out all the fantastic Six Sentence Sunday authors here.