Eden Winters's Blog, page 32
August 5, 2014
Book Reading - Naked Tails
At the Dreamspinner conference in March, I was filmed reading the "Crickinator!" scene from my shifter novel, Naked Tails.
Seth isn't your ordinary shifter, as the cover and blurb reveal.
Seth McDaniel wasn’t raised among a shifter passel and has no idea what it’s like to turn furry once a month. An orphan, torn from his father’s family at an early age, he scarcely remembers Great-aunt Irene. Now her passing brings him back to Possum Kingdom, Georgia, to take up a legacy he doesn’t understand and reconnect with a friend he’s never forgotten.
As Irene’s second-in-command, Dustin Livingston has two choices: assume control of the passel or select another replacement. Unfortunately, the other candidates are either heartless or clueless. Dustin’s best hope to dodge the responsibility is to deliver a crash course in leadership to his childhood pal Seth, a man he hasn’t seen in twenty years. However, while Dustin's mind is set on his task, his heart is set on his old friend.
Seth’s quest for answers yields more questions instead. What’s with the tiny gray hairs littering his aunt’s house? Why do the townsfolk call each other “Jack” and “Jill”? Do Dustin’s attentions come with ulterior motives? And why is Seth suddenly craving crickets?
Want to know more? Get your copy today from Dreamspinner Press.
And because I've been told I have an accent (Really? Me?), here's the passage that I read:
NIGHT sounds Seth normally took for granted sharpened, and he wondered if real possums appreciated the difference. Wait! He wondered! He did a happy little possum flip, if somewhat awkwardly. He wondered! He had his human mind! On the edges of his consciousness, Dustin and Monica conversed before Dustin shrank back into the shadows, apparently satisfied. Monica hunkered down a few yards away, wary eyes sweeping the yard.
Chirp, chirp! What the hell was that? Seth scuttled around, searching the grass for whatever produced cheeping to give a foghorn a run for its money, volumewise. Chirp, chirp. A fat cricket sat a few feet away, singing to lure a prospective mate. Seth stared at the angular, skinny legs, only one thought in his head: Yummy! He pounced, as much as his cumbersome body allowed, catching the cricket unawares. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Oh! Like potato chips! Also like potato chips, one simply wasn’t enough.
Seth spotted another cricket and wobbled over, filling his mouth before his prey hopped away. Stupid cricket. The third and fourth proved equally easy.
I am the crickinator! Seth considered simply opening his mouth and ambling the length of the yard, scooping up insects like a whale netting plankton.
Eventually his seemingly bottomless belly filled, and he experimented with his new body. Locomotion wasn’t a problem if he simply moved without trying to figure out the mechanics. However, the moment he became aware of having four feet to contend with, he stumbled and fell. Should he place the two on the right in tandem, or right front, back left? Splat!
A chittering sounded in the general direction of Monica. Did possums laugh?
Oh! Worm! Seth pounced, squealing when his teeth sank into his own tail. Ow! That hurt!
After a while, he grew sleepy and headed for the house. He bumped his nose on the bottom step. How the hell did they get so high? Bouncing his front end lifted his paws an inch off the ground. He bounced again, and again, only succeeding in wearing himself out.
When he’d reached the point of giving up, Monica took pity and led him around the side of the house and underneath. An intricate possum highway existed under the structure, constructed of two by fours and sheet metal. On and on they rambled, entering walls and finally coming out under the bathroom sink.
Weary now, Seth slothed to his bedroom, where he plopped down on the area rug by his bed. He awoke to sunlight streaming through the window, itchy possum hairs scratching his bare human skin, and the icky sensation that something had crawled into his mouth and died. Wait a minute! It had! Several things, actually. Something scratchy hung from his lip and he wiped it away, only to come away with a cricket leg clinging to his hand. Yuck. Cricket.
Seth isn't your ordinary shifter, as the cover and blurb reveal.
Seth McDaniel wasn’t raised among a shifter passel and has no idea what it’s like to turn furry once a month. An orphan, torn from his father’s family at an early age, he scarcely remembers Great-aunt Irene. Now her passing brings him back to Possum Kingdom, Georgia, to take up a legacy he doesn’t understand and reconnect with a friend he’s never forgotten.
As Irene’s second-in-command, Dustin Livingston has two choices: assume control of the passel or select another replacement. Unfortunately, the other candidates are either heartless or clueless. Dustin’s best hope to dodge the responsibility is to deliver a crash course in leadership to his childhood pal Seth, a man he hasn’t seen in twenty years. However, while Dustin's mind is set on his task, his heart is set on his old friend.
Seth’s quest for answers yields more questions instead. What’s with the tiny gray hairs littering his aunt’s house? Why do the townsfolk call each other “Jack” and “Jill”? Do Dustin’s attentions come with ulterior motives? And why is Seth suddenly craving crickets?
Want to know more? Get your copy today from Dreamspinner Press.
And because I've been told I have an accent (Really? Me?), here's the passage that I read:
NIGHT sounds Seth normally took for granted sharpened, and he wondered if real possums appreciated the difference. Wait! He wondered! He did a happy little possum flip, if somewhat awkwardly. He wondered! He had his human mind! On the edges of his consciousness, Dustin and Monica conversed before Dustin shrank back into the shadows, apparently satisfied. Monica hunkered down a few yards away, wary eyes sweeping the yard.
Chirp, chirp! What the hell was that? Seth scuttled around, searching the grass for whatever produced cheeping to give a foghorn a run for its money, volumewise. Chirp, chirp. A fat cricket sat a few feet away, singing to lure a prospective mate. Seth stared at the angular, skinny legs, only one thought in his head: Yummy! He pounced, as much as his cumbersome body allowed, catching the cricket unawares. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Oh! Like potato chips! Also like potato chips, one simply wasn’t enough.
Seth spotted another cricket and wobbled over, filling his mouth before his prey hopped away. Stupid cricket. The third and fourth proved equally easy.
I am the crickinator! Seth considered simply opening his mouth and ambling the length of the yard, scooping up insects like a whale netting plankton.
Eventually his seemingly bottomless belly filled, and he experimented with his new body. Locomotion wasn’t a problem if he simply moved without trying to figure out the mechanics. However, the moment he became aware of having four feet to contend with, he stumbled and fell. Should he place the two on the right in tandem, or right front, back left? Splat!
A chittering sounded in the general direction of Monica. Did possums laugh?
Oh! Worm! Seth pounced, squealing when his teeth sank into his own tail. Ow! That hurt!
After a while, he grew sleepy and headed for the house. He bumped his nose on the bottom step. How the hell did they get so high? Bouncing his front end lifted his paws an inch off the ground. He bounced again, and again, only succeeding in wearing himself out.
When he’d reached the point of giving up, Monica took pity and led him around the side of the house and underneath. An intricate possum highway existed under the structure, constructed of two by fours and sheet metal. On and on they rambled, entering walls and finally coming out under the bathroom sink.
Weary now, Seth slothed to his bedroom, where he plopped down on the area rug by his bed. He awoke to sunlight streaming through the window, itchy possum hairs scratching his bare human skin, and the icky sensation that something had crawled into his mouth and died. Wait a minute! It had! Several things, actually. Something scratchy hung from his lip and he wiped it away, only to come away with a cricket leg clinging to his hand. Yuck. Cricket.
August 2, 2014
Highway Man - Free at All Romance Ebooks For the Next Twenty-Four Hours
For the next twenty-four hours Highway Man is free at ARe. Get your copy today!
Killian Desmond’s dreams died in a flash of pain and the scream of twisted metal. He lost it all the night a tour bus sailed off a mountainside, sending his band—with his brother—to their deaths.
Killian is dead too, if the papers are to be believed, and living a half-life of odd jobs, rodeo rides and pick up gigs. The road that once meant freedom is now Killy’s exile. No strings, no ties, no names for the one-night stands.
Answering a tribute band’s ad thrusts him face to face with his past, and into the arms of the one man who just might understand.
Killian Desmond’s dreams died in a flash of pain and the scream of twisted metal. He lost it all the night a tour bus sailed off a mountainside, sending his band—with his brother—to their deaths. Killian is dead too, if the papers are to be believed, and living a half-life of odd jobs, rodeo rides and pick up gigs. The road that once meant freedom is now Killy’s exile. No strings, no ties, no names for the one-night stands.
Answering a tribute band’s ad thrusts him face to face with his past, and into the arms of the one man who just might understand.
Highway Man is Free at ARe for the Next Twenty-Four Hours
For the next twenty-four hours, Highway Man has been discounted 100%. Get your free copy today.
July 29, 2014
A Video Clip - And a Revelation
A friend who knew I loved the movie Frozen sent me this link, of the amazing Let it Go being recorded in twenty-five different languages. Cool. And fascinating. I'm not ashamed to admit that I watched the clip more than once. But other than lovely voices, what do these women have in common?
Watch their faces, how they go from intense to rapturous. At the uplifting part of the song, the women have similar expressions. Their appearances, clothes, and surroundings may change, but deep down, they're sharing an experience. And love or hate the song, imagine, while you're in your car belting out Let it Go, in many different lands, in many different dialects and languages, many different people may be doing the same.
Yes, we all have differences, but we all share similarities too. This video brought that home to me in a big way. I don't understand the women singing in Polish, Cantonese, or Thai, but I recognize the beauty in the words, the heartfelt way they are sung, and they have their own stories, lives, families...
Maybe we're not so different after all.
Watch their faces, how they go from intense to rapturous. At the uplifting part of the song, the women have similar expressions. Their appearances, clothes, and surroundings may change, but deep down, they're sharing an experience. And love or hate the song, imagine, while you're in your car belting out Let it Go, in many different lands, in many different dialects and languages, many different people may be doing the same.
Yes, we all have differences, but we all share similarities too. This video brought that home to me in a big way. I don't understand the women singing in Polish, Cantonese, or Thai, but I recognize the beauty in the words, the heartfelt way they are sung, and they have their own stories, lives, families...
Maybe we're not so different after all.
Rock 101, Past, Present, and Future
I grew up on a farm, and the delivery doctors must have rubber stamped "different" on my forehead the day I was born, for that's what I heard forever after. "You're...different," folks would say, lips slighted curled in what could only be labeled disgust. No one ever explained how I was different, or why that was a bad thing, but "different" hung over my head like a black cloud throughout my childhood. Whatever is was, I didn't want it.
I grew up listening mostly to the gospel and country music my family did, but when I was twelve, something amazing happened. Being poor, I never could have afforded to buy one, but I won a radio. Now it wasn't much by today's standards, it didn't have a clock, wouldn't play CDs (they weren't on the market yet) or cassettes (that weren't on the market yet) or even eight tracks (which WERE on the market). Where we lived in the middle of nowhere, I could only pick up a few stations, but the one to come in most clearly? Rock 101.
Suddenly the "different" in me found an outlet in songs that spoke to my individuality, and celebrated my "difference." At night I'd turn the volume low and keep listening even though I'd get in trouble if caught. That little radio provided my link to life outside the farm, and my morning started with a tiny childlike voice saying, "Good morning, Buddy Carr!" the morning DJ's trademark sign-in.
Elton John's Someone Saved My Life Tonight, spoke to my longing to be rescued from a dull life, and Tiny Dancer became my favorite song. Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word, said better than I ever could how bad rejection hurt.
From age twelve on up, Rock 101 was a touchstone in my life. I grew up, moved away, got married, had kids, got divorced... I threw out eight tracks in favor or cassettes, and later, CDs, but so many times, I tuned in to my favorite radio station, now a classic rock station, to hear the songs from my youth.
I left the state for many years, and when I came back, satellite, CD, and an iPOD put musical choices at my fingertips.
Then, just the other day, while switching CDs, what should I hear but the crackly call sign of my once favorite station! I tuned in and...lost myself in musical history. The commercials are something I can do without, but that moment felt like coming home. The song? Elton John's Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road.
Some things never change. And I'm glad that, after (mumble, mumble) years, Rock 101 is still there.I listen with my grandkids now. And in the future? Who knows?
And these day? I revel in my "difference". It's the best part of me.
I grew up listening mostly to the gospel and country music my family did, but when I was twelve, something amazing happened. Being poor, I never could have afforded to buy one, but I won a radio. Now it wasn't much by today's standards, it didn't have a clock, wouldn't play CDs (they weren't on the market yet) or cassettes (that weren't on the market yet) or even eight tracks (which WERE on the market). Where we lived in the middle of nowhere, I could only pick up a few stations, but the one to come in most clearly? Rock 101.
Suddenly the "different" in me found an outlet in songs that spoke to my individuality, and celebrated my "difference." At night I'd turn the volume low and keep listening even though I'd get in trouble if caught. That little radio provided my link to life outside the farm, and my morning started with a tiny childlike voice saying, "Good morning, Buddy Carr!" the morning DJ's trademark sign-in.
Elton John's Someone Saved My Life Tonight, spoke to my longing to be rescued from a dull life, and Tiny Dancer became my favorite song. Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word, said better than I ever could how bad rejection hurt.
From age twelve on up, Rock 101 was a touchstone in my life. I grew up, moved away, got married, had kids, got divorced... I threw out eight tracks in favor or cassettes, and later, CDs, but so many times, I tuned in to my favorite radio station, now a classic rock station, to hear the songs from my youth.
I left the state for many years, and when I came back, satellite, CD, and an iPOD put musical choices at my fingertips.
Then, just the other day, while switching CDs, what should I hear but the crackly call sign of my once favorite station! I tuned in and...lost myself in musical history. The commercials are something I can do without, but that moment felt like coming home. The song? Elton John's Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road.
Some things never change. And I'm glad that, after (mumble, mumble) years, Rock 101 is still there.I listen with my grandkids now. And in the future? Who knows?
And these day? I revel in my "difference". It's the best part of me.
July 27, 2014
Lovely Words for Highway Man (2nd Edition)
This weekend the newly released, extended version Highway Man received not one, but two five star (or marbles) ratings.
The first came for Cryselle at Cryselle's Bookshelf. Here's some of what she had to say:
Read entire review here:
The second review came from Lisa at The Novel Approach, who labeled it a "Small Gem". Lisa had this to say:
Maybe one day Killian and Mike will get a novel of their own.
Killian Desmond’s dreams died in a flash of pain and the scream of twisted metal. He lost it all the night a tour bus sailed off a mountainside, sending his band—with his brother—to their deaths.
Killian is dead too, if the papers are to be believed, and living a half-life of odd jobs, rodeo rides and pick up gigs. The road that once meant freedom is now Killy’s exile. No strings, no ties, no names for the one-night stands.
Answering a tribute band’s ad thrusts him face to face with his past, and into the arms of the one man who just might understand.
Find Highway Man at Rocky Ridge Books
All Romance eBooks
Amazon
For those of you who are wondering, the story has nearly doubled in size since the first edition.
The first came for Cryselle at Cryselle's Bookshelf. Here's some of what she had to say:
"I read this in its first incarnation and loved it then, but in its new form we get about twice as much story and I think I love it about twice as much now."
Read entire review here:
The second review came from Lisa at The Novel Approach, who labeled it a "Small Gem". Lisa had this to say:
"In true Eden Winters style, Highway Man is a romantic interlude that strums a poignant tune on the heartstrings, then comes to an uplifting end, earning its small gems recommendation."Read entire review here:
Maybe one day Killian and Mike will get a novel of their own.
Killian Desmond’s dreams died in a flash of pain and the scream of twisted metal. He lost it all the night a tour bus sailed off a mountainside, sending his band—with his brother—to their deaths.
Killian is dead too, if the papers are to be believed, and living a half-life of odd jobs, rodeo rides and pick up gigs. The road that once meant freedom is now Killy’s exile. No strings, no ties, no names for the one-night stands.
Answering a tribute band’s ad thrusts him face to face with his past, and into the arms of the one man who just might understand.
Find Highway Man at Rocky Ridge Books
All Romance eBooks
Amazon
For those of you who are wondering, the story has nearly doubled in size since the first edition.
July 26, 2014
Duet for .99 Cents?
If you've had your eye on a copy of Duet, now's the time to buy. Thanks to Dreamspinner Press's Christmas in July, today only it's marked down to .99 cents.
Like the Scottish Highlands? Hot guys in kilts. Love stories that span centuries? Then Duet may be the book for you. It's part historical, part contemporary, with a slight paranormal twist.
A conqueror’s decree can’t separate Aillil Callaghan from his Scottish heritage. He wears his clan’s forbidden plaid with pride, awaiting the day he becomes Laird, restores his family’s name, and fights to free Scotland from English tyranny. An Englishman in his home? Abomination! Yet the tutor his father engaged for Aillil’s younger brothers may have something to teach the Callaghan heir as well.
Violinist and scholar Malcolm Byerly fled Kent in fear, seeking nothing more than a quiet post, eager minds to teach, and for no one to learn his secrets. He didn’t count on his charges’ English-hating barbarian of an older brother, or on red-and-green tartan concealing a kindred soul. A shared love of music breaks down the barriers between two worlds.
Aillil’s father threatens their love, but a far more dangerous enemy tears them apart. They vanish into legend.
Two centuries later, concert violinist Billy Byerly arrives at Castle Callaghan—and feels strangely at home. Legends speak of a Lost Laird who haunts the fortress in wait of his lover’s return. Billy doesn’t believe in legends, ghosts, or love that outlasts life.
But the Lost Laird knows his own.
***
Pick up your copy today at Dreamspinner Press.
Like the Scottish Highlands? Hot guys in kilts. Love stories that span centuries? Then Duet may be the book for you. It's part historical, part contemporary, with a slight paranormal twist.
A conqueror’s decree can’t separate Aillil Callaghan from his Scottish heritage. He wears his clan’s forbidden plaid with pride, awaiting the day he becomes Laird, restores his family’s name, and fights to free Scotland from English tyranny. An Englishman in his home? Abomination! Yet the tutor his father engaged for Aillil’s younger brothers may have something to teach the Callaghan heir as well.
Violinist and scholar Malcolm Byerly fled Kent in fear, seeking nothing more than a quiet post, eager minds to teach, and for no one to learn his secrets. He didn’t count on his charges’ English-hating barbarian of an older brother, or on red-and-green tartan concealing a kindred soul. A shared love of music breaks down the barriers between two worlds.
Aillil’s father threatens their love, but a far more dangerous enemy tears them apart. They vanish into legend.
Two centuries later, concert violinist Billy Byerly arrives at Castle Callaghan—and feels strangely at home. Legends speak of a Lost Laird who haunts the fortress in wait of his lover’s return. Billy doesn’t believe in legends, ghosts, or love that outlasts life.
But the Lost Laird knows his own.
***
Pick up your copy today at Dreamspinner Press.
July 24, 2014
Please Welcome Michael Rupured! Guest Post
Good morning, y'all (evening, etcetera). Please welcome Michael Rupured to the blog, for a preview of his upcoming novel, Happy Independence Day, and a giveaway. Hi, Michael!Thanks, Eden, for allowing me to show off the cover for my upcoming release from Dreamspinner Press here on your blog. By far, the most exciting part of the publishing process—at least for me—is seeing the cover for the first time. For my next novel, to be released August 20th, artist Christy Caughie created a gorgeous cover. To celebrate, I’m conducting a giveaway. Keep reading for details.
The Stonewall Inn on Christopher Street in Greenwich Village is the setting for much of the action in Happy Independence Day. What made the Stonewall Inn a magnet for homosexuals?Despite a high cover charge ($1 during the week and $3 on weekends), pricey watered down drinks, and deplorable conditions, the Stonewall Inn was a popular gathering place for homosexuals. Why? As a private club, the Stonewall Inn was the first establishment in New York where homosexuals could dance together. Two dance floors catered to different crowds. The jukebox in the front room played mainstream hits and show tunes for the older set and the jukebox in the backroom played more R&B and soul for a younger, edgier crowd. Around the time of the 1969 uprising, the Stonewall Inn was believed to be the biggest and most popular gay bar in the United States.GIVEAWAY!!!!To give you a reason to visit the other blogs helping me celebrate my new cover, I’ve come up with a Giveaway and a quiz about the Stonewall Inn and the 1969 uprising that made it famous. Find the answers on the blogs participating in my cover reveal and giveaway (links below). Comment on my post on any of the participating blogs by midnight, July 31, 2014 for a chance to win a signed copy of the prequel, After Christmas Eve (U.S. residents only; ebook available for international winners—one winner per blog). What is the Stonewall Inn?What was the legal environment in 1969 for NYC homosexuals?Who owned the Stonewall Inn?What happened at the Stonewall Inn on the night of June 28, 1969 to cause the uprising?Who/what started the Stonewall riots?How long did the Stonewall Uprising last?• Tali Spencer's Brilliant Disguise• MA Church's Decadent Delights• Charlie Cochet's Purple Rose Tea House• Eden Winters' Magnolias and Men• Shira Anthony• Chris Koehler• Prism Book AllianceFind out what Michael’s up to by visiting his web site (http://rupured.com), following him on Twitter (@crotchetyman), or by email (mrupured@gmail.com).
July 20, 2014
Duet News!
I just discovered a rather lovely review for Duet at Boy Meet Boy Reviews. Reviewer SheReadsALot had this to say:
A conqueror’s decree can’t separate Aillil Callaghan from his Scottish heritage. He wears his clan’s forbidden plaid with pride, awaiting the day he becomes Laird, restores his family’s name, and fights to free Scotland from English tyranny. An Englishman in his home? Abomination! Yet the tutor his father engaged for Aillil’s younger brothers may have something to teach the Callaghan heir as well.
Violinist and scholar Malcolm Byerly fled Kent in fear, seeking nothing more than a quiet post, eager minds to teach, and for no one to learn his secrets. He didn’t count on his charges’ English-hating barbarian of an older brother, or on red-and-green tartan concealing a kindred soul. A shared love of music breaks down the barriers between two worlds.
Aillil’s father threatens their love, but a far more dangerous enemy tears them apart. They vanish into legend.
Two centuries later, concert violinist Billy Byerly arrives at Castle Callaghan—and feels strangely at home. Legends speak of a Lost Laird who haunts the fortress in wait of his lover’s return. Billy doesn’t believe in legends, ghosts, or love that outlasts life.
But the Lost Laird knows his own.
***
Looking for a historical/contemporary/Highlander/enemies to lovers/paranormal/romance story? Look no further than Duet. And the good news? On July 26, Dreamspinner Press is marking the story down to a mere .99 cents for their Christmas in July celebration.
"Overall, an all encompassing love story that carries throughout the centuries" and "Definitely recommended."
A conqueror’s decree can’t separate Aillil Callaghan from his Scottish heritage. He wears his clan’s forbidden plaid with pride, awaiting the day he becomes Laird, restores his family’s name, and fights to free Scotland from English tyranny. An Englishman in his home? Abomination! Yet the tutor his father engaged for Aillil’s younger brothers may have something to teach the Callaghan heir as well.Violinist and scholar Malcolm Byerly fled Kent in fear, seeking nothing more than a quiet post, eager minds to teach, and for no one to learn his secrets. He didn’t count on his charges’ English-hating barbarian of an older brother, or on red-and-green tartan concealing a kindred soul. A shared love of music breaks down the barriers between two worlds.
Aillil’s father threatens their love, but a far more dangerous enemy tears them apart. They vanish into legend.
Two centuries later, concert violinist Billy Byerly arrives at Castle Callaghan—and feels strangely at home. Legends speak of a Lost Laird who haunts the fortress in wait of his lover’s return. Billy doesn’t believe in legends, ghosts, or love that outlasts life.
But the Lost Laird knows his own.
***
Looking for a historical/contemporary/Highlander/enemies to lovers/paranormal/romance story? Look no further than Duet. And the good news? On July 26, Dreamspinner Press is marking the story down to a mere .99 cents for their Christmas in July celebration.
July 19, 2014
Highway Man Reborn
A few years ago inspiration struck in the form of the haunting Papa Was a Rodeo by the Magnetic Fields, and down and out rock star Killian Desmond was born in my imagination.
During a rare three days of being snowed in (in SC!) he screamed into my ear until Highway Man took form, a short story of approximately 8,000 words, later to be published by Dreamspinner Press on their site.Readers loved the characters of Killian and Mike, but wanted to know more about the guys, and in particular, what became of them. Once the rights reverted to me, the story grew to 15,000 and is now available through Rocky Ridge Books.
Killian Desmond’s dreams died in a flash of pain and the scream of twisted metal. He lost it all the night a tour bus sailed off a mountainside, sending his band—with his brother—to their deaths.
Killian is dead too, if the papers are to be believed, and living a half-life of odd jobs, rodeo rides and pick up gigs. The road that once meant freedom is now Killy’s exile. No strings, no ties, no names for the one-night stands.
Answering a tribute band’s ad thrusts him face to face with his past, and into the arms of the one man who just might understand.
During a rare three days of being snowed in (in SC!) he screamed into my ear until Highway Man took form, a short story of approximately 8,000 words, later to be published by Dreamspinner Press on their site.Readers loved the characters of Killian and Mike, but wanted to know more about the guys, and in particular, what became of them. Once the rights reverted to me, the story grew to 15,000 and is now available through Rocky Ridge Books.
Killian Desmond’s dreams died in a flash of pain and the scream of twisted metal. He lost it all the night a tour bus sailed off a mountainside, sending his band—with his brother—to their deaths.
Killian is dead too, if the papers are to be believed, and living a half-life of odd jobs, rodeo rides and pick up gigs. The road that once meant freedom is now Killy’s exile. No strings, no ties, no names for the one-night stands.
Answering a tribute band’s ad thrusts him face to face with his past, and into the arms of the one man who just might understand.
