Thea Harrison's Blog, page 8
May 3, 2018
Excerpt 2 from Planet Dragos
In case you missed it, here’s a link to the first excerpt: Excerpt from Planet Dragos
Chapter 1 continued
The sensation of his warm lips lingered on her skin as he held the phone up to his ear and strode back to Aryal. The shadow across the sun darkened further.
Dragos walked by behind her. He said in her ear, “Why don’t you come see me?”
Wait, no. That wasn’t Dragos’s voice.
Dragos was not behind her either. She had watched him walk away as he talked to whoever had put Aryal into a temper.
Frowning, Pia spun in a slow circle, looking for the tall, dark man who had spoken into her ear.
There wasn’t anybody nearby. Eva had not yet noticed that Pia had stopped to have an exchange with Dragos and had continued walking to the hotel’s front doors where Dr. Medina had joined her. Pia stood alone among the swirl and eddy of people.
The day brightened again. As she glanced up, the sky was a clear, cloudless blue.
Maybe the desert heat was getting to her. Maybe she had hallucinated the whole thing.
Did she believe that?
She shook her head. Nope. She did not.
Lips pursed, she strode over to Dr. Medina and Eva. “We don’t have anything on the schedule until the wedding reception this evening. Carling’s probably sleeping, and in any case it’s not polite to bother a Vampyre in the middle of the day unless there’s an emergency. I’m sure Rune is around somewhere, but he’ll be busy doing whatever it is guys do in Las Vegas the day before their wedding. Anybody up for a little sightseeing this afternoon?”
“You know I’ll go,” Eva said.
“Yeah, well, you kind of have to.” Pia gave the other woman an affectionate push with one shoulder. “Seeing as you’re my bodyguard and all.”
With a grin, Eva nudged her back. When they’d met, they had been at odds with each other, but despite the rocky beginning they had become fast friends.
Dr. Medina watched them, smiling. “I’ll pass. After I check your vitals, I’ve got some patients I need to call.”
Pia’s smile faded, but daily checkups with Dr. Medina, along with the doctor’s attendance on this trip, was the compromise she had suggested to Dragos after they’d had their worst argument to date.
So she said, “You bet. Let’s get it done.”
Two of their guards had already completed the check-in procedure and had gone to clear the suite, and Pia, Dr. Medina, and Eva headed for the Spa Tower. The Bellagio resort was huge, so it was a bit of a hike.
Once they reached the luxurious penthouse suite, Dr. Medina checked Pia’s blood pressure and heart rate, scanned the baby magically, then gave Pia her daily shot of the drug protocol.
“All good?” Pia asked when the doctor was finished.
The older woman gave her a smile. “Everything is fine. Have fun sightseeing.”
“Thanks.”
Even though she had been given the all clear, she hesitated, torn.
Other people were arriving for the wedding, and Carling and Rune had reserved an entire floor in the Spa Tower for the wedding guests.
Of Dragos’s original sentinels, Aryal had flown in with Dragos and Pia, and Bayne, Graydon, and his mate, Beluviel, would be arriving later in the afternoon. The two newer sentinels, Alexander and Aryal’s mate, Quentin, had remained back in New York, while Tiago and his mate, Niniane, were in Adriyel and unable to attend.
Rune and Carling also had friends from Florida who would either already be here or arriving soon—Duncan and Seremela, Grace and Khalil, and Claudia and Luis—but Pia didn’t know any of those couples very well.
Part of her felt as if she should stay and be social, but the other part…
The other part didn’t want to look into their faces as they saw how much she had changed.
She would have to face the others soon enough this evening. For now she was going to give herself permission to avoid everything.
She jotted a quick note for Dragos on hotel stationery and left it in a prominent place on the hall table by the suite’s double doors. Then, grabbing her purse, she said to Eva, “Let’s get out of here.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the Riverview Casino.”
Chapter Two
Fifteen minutes later, Pia and Eva walked into the Riverview. Like the other Las Vegas great hotels and casinos, the Riverview glittered with flashing lights and luxurious appointments—marble floors, soaring ceilings, and lavish works of art.
Unlike the other hotels and casinos, the Riverview was under the sole ownership of an Elder Races company, the Light Fae Queen Tatiana’s Northern Lights.
While a proportion of Elder Races creatures were scattered throughout the rest of the city, here they were in the majority. Demonkind servers walked by, carrying trays of drinks. Nearby, a medusa sat playing slots at three adjacent machines, his head snakes wrapped firmly around the handles. Pia stared at him, fascinated.
“Ah, Las Vegas,” Eva said as they walked across the open floor. “The Cirque du Soleil, Cher, Ricky Martin, Paul Simon… So many great things to do, so little time. Did you know that Vampyres love the fake sky at the Venetian Resort? They have gondola rides down the Grand Canal, and it’s all inside. Want to get in a little slot machine action?”
“What?” Glancing at the other woman, Pia realized Eva had noticed the direction she was staring. She was probably being rude by staring so openly, not that the medusa would notice. His concentration on the slot machines was total. “I’m not a gambler.”
“Oh, come on. Live a little,” Eva coaxed. “I could get you some chips, and we could try our luck at one of the tables.”
Pia laughed. “I still remember how hard I worked to make money. I’m not comfortable throwing it away at blackjack or roulette.”
“I bet Dragos wouldn’t be throwing his money away.” Eva grinned. “I’d love to see that dragon in a poker game.”
“That’s not going to happen here,” Pia told her. “Dragos is banned from gambling in Las Vegas. He’s too good at counting cards, and nobody with any sense will sit in on a poker game with him. All he can do is see some shows and attend Rune and Carling’s wedding.”
Eva laughed. “You didn’t tell me why you wanted to come to the Riverview instead of hanging out at the Bellagio.”
“I’m looking for the Midnight Lounge. There’s a show called Last Dancethat I want to check into.” Scanning the area, she caught sight of a sign. “It’s over there, down that hall.”
Eva kept pace beside her. Stepping inside the Midnight Lounge was somewhat disappointing. While it was indisputably the scene from the billboard, the photoshopped magic was missing. Except for a ghoul mopping the floor and another one working behind the bar, the lounge was empty and the stage dark.
“Vegas may never sleep, but they’ve got to mop the floors some time.” Eva regarded both ghouls with a smile.
Pia frowned. The damn drug protocol not only damped her immune system, it also muffled her ability to sense magic. She asked, “Can you sense anything? Any residual Power or magic?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. Sparks here and there, magic items, individual people. It comes and goes. There are dampening fields all over casinos so players can’t communicate with each other telepathically or cheat with other kinds of spells.” Eva looked at her thoughtfully. “Why? What are you looking for?”
“Anything. Nothing.” She shrugged. “I had a weird moment back at the Bellagio. And there was somebody that looked like Dragos on the billboard for this show, but obviously it wasn’t him. When I asked Dragos about it, he brushed me off and told me to ignore it.”
Eva raised an eyebrow. “So naturally you thought to run right over here.”
When Eva put it like that, Pia felt a little sheepish. “I was running away from the hotel as much as anything.”
“You said you had a weird moment.” Eva frowned, hands on her hips as she surveyed the area. “I’m not a fan of weird, but I don’t see or sense any danger.”
“Weird isn’t necessarily bad. Just look at our lives. Every single thing in it could be labeled weird.” Pia headed to the bar where an older ghoul unloaded a dishwasher and stacked the clean glasses on a shelf. “Excuse me—is Last Danceshowing here?”
He shrugged. Like all ghouls, he had a long, mournful face. “Sure. Maybe. I don’t actually know. This is my first day back at work after a two-week vacation. After a while all the shows start to look alike, know what I mean?”
“I guess so.” Amused, she glanced at Eva, who had approached the other ghoul.
“Hey, buddy,” Eva said. “Anybody back in the dressing rooms?”
He paused to lean on the handle of his mop as if he were too tired to stand upright. “Might be.”
Eva handed him a few twenties. “Why don’t you check for us? If there is someone back there, could you tell them we’d like to speak to them?”
“Okay.” Pocketing the cash, he shuffled toward the back.
As they waited, Pia strolled over to look at the stage. It was decorated the same as the scene in the billboard, with tall ebony vases filled with long-stemmed red roses. Impulsively, she walked up the three steps to stand on the stage. There was a trapdoor in the middle of the worn floor.
As she viewed the lounge from her new vantage place, the stage lights switched on. White light hit her full in the face, blinding her, while the rest of the lounge receded into darkness.
“Sorry, did I trigger that?” she called out as she threw up a hand to shield her eyes.
From behind the shelter of her fingers, she could make out Eva’s outline where she waited by a table. The muted figure of a ghoul walked up to her, and they talked. They both seemed very far away, and neither one of them appeared to notice Pia.
“Eva?” she said uncertainly. If there was one thing Eva should be doing, it was noticing Pia, especially when she called out to her. “Eva!”
The other woman gave no indication she’d heard. And that wasn’t the good kind of weird.
Booted heels sounded on the hardwood floor, and a tall man came to stand beside her. As Pia looked at him, her heart began to race.
He had a hard profile, much like Dragos’s, and he had the same black hair, broad shoulders, and strong, sensual mouth.
“Hello, Pia Giovanni Cuelebre,” he said. His voice was deep and not quite unfamiliar.
Her leg muscles clenched until she stood on the balls of her feet, ready to run. She sensed nothing from him—no danger, no magic. No Power. But Eva wasn’t answering her, and this man knew her full name.
Taking a wary step back, she asked, “Do I know you?”
“I know you. We came close to meeting once.” Turning toward her, the man smiled. His eyes were green. “You were pregnant with your first son then. He saved your life, almost at the expense of his.”
That kicked her pulse into higher gear. Nobody except Dragos knew what her peanut had done, back when she had suffered a wound that had nearly turned mortal. She whispered, “How do you know that?”
He was much more handsome than Dragos if the truth were told. Magnetically so. But he carried the same kind of blade in his smile. “The same way I know how much your mother loves you. She told you that you could go to her if you wished. Remember?”
Shock moved through her like a slow-shifting glacier, numbing her hands and lips. “I never told anybody about that, not even Dragos. Who are you?”
“You can call me Rael if you like.” Putting his hands in his pockets, he shifted to look out over the near-empty lounge.
A thought occurred to her, as preposterous and vast as an ocean. It couldn’t be, but… so many things in her life were preposterous. Were weird.
“Rael, as in…” Her voice shook, and she had to swallow and start again. “As in Azrael?”
———————————
Planet Dragos
by Thea Harrison
Copyright 2018
All rights reserved
Planet Dragos is available for pre-order at these retailers:
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April 26, 2018
More updates, reader questions, and a spoiler-free announcement of sorts
I finished with the proofread file of Planet Dragos, and it’s off for the final “oops” detection. Trivia: several different readers go through this process – me, my editor, the proofreader, beta readers, and the final reader, my audio narrator Sophie Eastlake. Sometimes, ALL of us miss a typo or two, which always astounds me, but it does happen to all of us. Ah, publishing. It does have its quirks.
We’re a little ahead of schedule right now, so we’re hoping to send ARCs out to bloggers and the reader review team around Monday evening, maybe Tuesday The story will also be made available on Netgalley early next week, so if you’re on the reader list or on Netgalley, keep an eye out for it.
READER QUESTIONS:
Yes, Planet Dragos will be released print, in audio, and I’m planning on a German edition. These are all different avenues of production, so as always we will make announcements as things transpire. The German translation will be made available later this summer.
ANNOUNCEMENT
I’ve decided to write a final trilogy based on the original Wyr demesne in New York. This will be the last set of stories that will be New York based, BUT it will not be the last of the Elder Races universe. I would love to write other stories from other angles in the universe, so I’m not closing shop on the overarching series.
This is all I’m willing to say right now. I’m not sure of the timeline. I might write the trilogy all at once, or I might write one book a year interspersed with working on something new for creative refreshment. Those decisions will come in the future. As always I’ll keep you posted when I know something for sure.
April 25, 2018
Excerpt from Planet Dragos
Please note: This may contain typos that will be fixed before publication.
Prologue
Devil’s Gate, Nevada
Disasters were always a surprise, Dragos thought.
He raced through the bizarre forest, his heart pounding a thunderous rhythm in his ears. Branches of alien-looking foliage and creeping vines whipped his face and arms as he exploded through the tangled underbrush like a heat-seeking missile.
Dragos had a wide-ranging vision, and he knew how to play a very long game. If he saw something coming, even if it took decades for the event to occur, he maneuvered to either avoid or confront it. Sometimes he chose to go to war, but when he did, he always calculated the cost.
Often in recent centuries, he employed his relatively new-fangled skill for politicking, and the dragon smiled cynically to himself as he treated with the smaller, weaker creatures around him.
They were all so eager to believe they were important, so credulous that he saw them as important too, and so remarkably easy to manipulate. Whereas, really, the most dangerous and important things about them were their strength in mass numbers and their ability to propagate at an alarming rate.
He didn’t call any of those things disasters. Those were situations that he handled, and he handled them well.
No, disasters were something else entirely. Disasters were the small child suddenly gone missing or the explosion in the face that took away vitally important chunks of memory.
Or his mate in danger.
That one. Disaster was too puny a word for that one. That was an apocalypse waiting to happen, because if the dragon lost his mate, he would not crumble meekly in some humble demise. No, he would set the whole world on fire and drag it down with him into the dark and never care that it would destroy the other people he might have once loved.
Dragos castigated himself viciously. This was his fault. He should have known how bad the trouble would be from the moment it had appeared on their horizon. The warning signs had been there, but he had been too preoccupied to take proper note.
As soon as he had discovered that Death had come to Las Vegas, he should have grabbed Pia, turned on his heel, and gone home.
Death only appeared in person for the extraordinary events.
Chapter One
Las Vegas, Nevada
Two days earlier
“I can get myself out,” Pia said irritably when Dragos stuck his hand inside the limo.
He bent to look in at her, one black eyebrow raised. The Bellagio Hotel and Casino was busy, and they had parked to one side of the main entrance, half the limousine out of the shade of the gigantic, ornate portico.
Slanting, laser-like sunshine lined the edge of Dragos’s tough, bronzed features and black hair in radiant white. The desert sun was nothing like the sun in upstate New York. It was harsh and unforgiving here and, despite the luxurious, glittering city that sprawled around them, potentially lethal.
Dragos did not appear to be discomfited by the difference in climate, and he never needed to wear sunglasses to protect his eyes—he only wore sunglasses to maintain a barrier between him and the outside world.
He was the only physical creature Pia knew who could look directly at the sun and not be blinded by it. Whenever sunlight bathed him, he grew more burnished and vital, as if the fire that lived inside the dragon recognized the fire from the sun and gained nourishment from it.
His gold gaze narrowed. “You’ve always accepted my help before.”
She could tell his feelings weren’t hurt. He had the strongest psyche of anyone Pia had ever met. She could probably drive over and reverse on his feelings repeatedly with an eighty-thousand-pound eighteen-wheeler before she managed to put a dent in them.
No, he was simply, genuinely baffled.
Realizing she was being irrational, she breathed deeply for a moment before she explained, “I accepted your help before because it was sexy.”
And right now nothing was sexy. Not even him.
He gave her rounded belly a significant glance. “But you’re so big you actually need my help this time.”
“I’m so big,” she repeated in a flat voice. If there had been a table anywhere in reach, she would have been sorely tempted to flip it. “Thank you so much for pointing that out to me, Dragos. I hadn’t noticed how big I am. If it weren’t for you, that fact would have flown right by me. Now, if you’ll just move out of my way, I’ll get my own big damn self out of this car.”
He angled his jaw and his expression turned calculating, but he straightened and stepped back without saying another word.
Then Pia had to rock a few times before she got enough momentum to hoist herself up so she could lumber out. Moisture from the Bellagio’s famous fountains wafted against her cheeks, blown by the hot desert wind.
Gah. That must have looked horrible. She was so ungainly. She had never been ungainly before, not even when she had been at her biggest with her first pregnancy. Then, she had felt sleek and powerful, like she’d been a sex goddess and a mother goddess all rolled into one.
The times she and Dragos had shared during her first pregnancy… Then, everything had been sexy. Newly mated, they had burned up the bedsheets with an insatiable need for each other.
As Dragos opened his mouth, she angled her head away and held up a forefinger as she muttered, “Don’t say a word. I got the job done. That’s all that matters.”
Standing a few steps behind Dragos, Eva held Pia’s Kate Spade purse and waited, lips pressed together and dark eyes snapping. Her face was certainly expressive of something, but after studying Eva’s bold features, Pia decided she didn’t need to know.
Pia took her purse and told the other woman telepathically, I don’t want to hear a word from you either.
Me? Eva’s eyebrows shot up. I would never!
Eva’s mental tone was so pious, her lie so enormous, Pia had to laugh in spite of herself.
Turning, she said to Dragos, “I’m sorry I’m so crabby.”
His eyes gleamed in a subtle smile. “You’re very pregnant,” he told her. “And as you are well aware, I’ve read several books about pregnancy. I’ve decided to consider you somewhat insane until the baby is born.”
They had flown to Las Vegas to attend Rune and Carling’s wedding, and for the trip he had dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt that hugged the muscles in his chest and arms. From his military-short black hair to his scuffed boots, he was at his plainest and most unvarnished.
But that didn’t mean he could go unnoticed. At six-foot-eight, Dragos towered over everyone else around him. His Power was so intense it shimmered around him in an invisible corona like heat rising off the pavement. She had seen the same effect in others from the first generation of the Elder Races, those who had sprung into existence when the Earth was formed.
But for some reason, Dragos’s Power felt hotter and fiercer than even the oldest of the old that Pia had met. She suspected that too was because of his Wyr form. The dragon was a creature of fire, and everyone around him seemed paler and smaller by comparison.
Behind him, a multitude of people hurried to do their jobs. The Cadillac SUV transporting Dr. Medina and Aryal, one of the Wyr sentinels, had pulled up behind the limo, and they had climbed out. Aryal impatiently directed guards and bellhops who piled luggage onto wheeled racks.
While Dragos stood ignoring them all, his attention solely focused on her, they orbited around him like satellites as they did his bidding.
She’d been lying to herself. His brutal handsomeness and raw masculinity tugged at her even when she was at her most tired and cranky. He was always the sexiest thing she had ever seen, and it was never subtle.
No, she was the one who wasn’t sexy anymore. She felt huge, puffy, and clumsy, like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man that had rampaged New York in Ghostbusters, and the only way she could hide the dark circles that seemed to have taken up permanent residence underneath her eyes was with a liberal application of concealer.
She caught sight of a tall, leggy blonde walking past them. The woman had supermodel good looks and wore a halter top and shorts so short they showed a hint of lacy purple underwear. Completing the outfit were cowboy boots, long dangly earrings, and a cowboy hat. She stared at Dragos with such single-minded hunger she walked into a nearby bush, apologized to it absently, and moved on.
Meanwhile, Aryal strode over to Dragos and they talked together in low voices. Dragos had never even noticed the leggy blonde woman or her antics.
Pia didn’t know whether she wanted to snarl or laugh. Maybe both?
She rubbed her face instead and struggled to get a grip on her unruly emotions. Dragos was indisputably hers. They were married, and in the unique way that Wyr had, they had bonded for life.
Still, the part of her that had gone somewhat insane whispered that their mating bond only ensured they would be mated for the rest of their lives. It didn’t guarantee anything about sexual fidelity or enduring love.
Meanwhile, the drug protocol she needed to take daily in order to bring their unborn son safely to term had dampened her immune system. When she had been pregnant with her first son Liam, the only weight she had gained was baby weight. Even when she had been eight months pregnant she could have run for miles, a particular talent she took from her Wyr form.
This time she had already gained far too much weight, and Stinkpot wasn’t born yet. Just the thought of running made her want to lie down and take a nap, and a perpetual low-level anxiety chewed at her like mice nibbling at the electrical conduits in a house. She felt frayed and frumpy. She’d had no idea how much her self-esteem had been tied to her looks until she’d lost them.
Besides, Eva said, amusement lacing her voice, even if I did want to say something, I’m on your side.
Pia started and glanced at the other woman. She had been so preoccupied with her own miserable thoughts she’d forgotten that she and Eva had been talking telepathically. Her memory and attention span were other casualties of this pregnancy.
Oh yeah?
Eva shrugged. He might have read several pregnancy books, but that don’t make him no expert on nothing. Nobody should tell their baby mama she too big to get herself out of a car. Men really are from Mars, I guess.
Men might be from Mars, Pia said, and women could possibly be from Venus, but Dragos is a planet all on his own. Just look how everyone revolves around him. On Planet Dragos everything goes the way he arranges it—unless you decide to cross him, and God help you then, because he doesn’t know how to back down, and he doesn’t ever, ever let up.
She had been reaching for lighthearted and amused, but that comment had come out sharper than she had meant for it to.
Eva asked, You guys still fighting?
Yep. She could feel Eva studying her profile but refused to look in the other woman’s direction. I don’t want to talk about it.
After a small silence, Eva said finally, Well, if you ever do, let me know. I’m here for you.
Thanks. Pia gave her a twisted smile.
Dragos touched her arm. “I’ve got to talk to Aryal, but there’s no reason for you to wait while I do. Why don’t you go inside where it’s cooler?”
“Sounds good.”
As she and Eva turned to the front doors of their hotel, Pia glanced in the direction where the supermodel blonde had been walking, but the other woman had disappeared.
A flash of light caught her attention. She looked up to see Dragos’s figure featured on a billboard surrounded with colored lights.
Wait, what?
Jolted out of her preoccupation, she stared more closely as a shadow passed over the sun. The scene on the billboard was a luxurious nightclub filled with dark shadows, white and gold lights, and red roses.
A powerful figure of a man stood on a stage. He wore a black suit and was in silhouette, half turned away. Twisting at the waist to look back over one wide shoulder at the camera, he held out a hand as if beckoning the onlooker. One corner of the billboard read LAST DANCE, THE MIDNIGHT LOUNGE, RIVERVIEW HOTEL & CASINO.
It wasn’t Dragos. It couldn’t be. The man had the same black hair, but upon closer examination, he appeared to be slimmer. The only thing she could tell for sure about his lean face was that he appeared to have green eyes.
“How odd,” she murmured. “Dragos, do you know who that is? He looks like you.”
Like Pia, he had been in midmotion as he turned back to Aryal, who was arguing with someone over the phone. He paused to look in the same direction as she did, and his expression hardened.
“He’s nobody,” Dragos said. “Ignore him.”
Aryal walked up, held her phone out to Dragos, and snapped, “You talk to him. I’m done.”
Dragos gave the billboard one last, long look. Then he bent his head to kiss Pia’s cheek. He told her, “This may take a little while.”
“No problem,” Pia said as she tilted her head up to him. He hadn’t exactly answered her question, had he?
———————————
Planet Dragos
by Thea Harrison
Copyright 2018
All rights reserved
Planet Dragos is available for pre-order at these retailers:
Amazon
GooglePlay
Kobo
iBooks
Nook
Amazon CA
Amazon UK
Amazon AU
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April 22, 2018
A few answers to some questions
Now that I’ve finished drafting Planet Dragos and the story is in the editing process, it’s time to make an announcement and answer some reader questions. I’m going to go in order of less important to most important.
PLANET DRAGOS STORY LENGTH
Guys, it really is a novella.
Some of you are worried about the length of the story. Planet Dragos is a novella that came in around 35,000 words—which is a long novella (what I typically write). To give this number context, 40,000 words is reaching the territory of a short novel. As soon as we have the final files formatted, we’re going to upload them to all the online booksellers and the placeholder file, which now appears to be only 7 pages long, will disappear.
LIAM IN COLLEGE
I have been asked when readers can expect a book about Liam going to college. The short answer is, I’m not going to write one.
I DID think long and hard about doing so. In fact, I had once considered writing a trilogy just on this alone. I thought it would be entertaining and readers would enjoy it, and I even went so far as to write some test pages and commission cover art for the project.
However, as I thought more deeply about this I realized I don’t have the interest or the voice to write a new adult fantasy. Trying to do so would be a disservice both to readers and to myself.
So, there won’t be any stories about Liam going to college. He’s off on his own adventure, out of sight, and learning and growing on his own.
DRAGOS AND PIA
It’s now time to announcement that Planet Dragos is going to be final story with Dragos and Pia as point-of-view (POV) characters.
Once upon a time I wrote for some blog interviews that there was so much story to tell about the Cuelebres—and there was. I have loved these characters every bit as much as readers have, but something has shifted.
Now, even though they are still in love and having adventures, I no longer feel they have so much story to tell. Now I feel like they have earned their HEA (happy ever after). This is an important emotional and mental shift for me as a writer, and I don’t see any going back from it.
I am still holding open the possibility they will appear in other people’s stories. Like guest appearances on TV shows, if they do appear it won’t be as main POV characters.
WHAT’S COMING AFTER LIONHEART
I have three possibilities for what I will be writing after I finish the Moonshadow trilogy. They are all such fantastic choices, I haven’t reached my decision yet. When I do and I’m ready to go public with it, I will let you know.
FUNDAMENTAL CHANGES IN HOW I WORK
Some of you already know that I have an autoimmune disease that has disrupted my work schedule and life over the last few years.
I love my job. I am one of the luckiest people in the world, and I am grateful for it every day. But I am no longer able or interested in holding myself hostage to the self-inflicted cruelty of work days based on word count output.
What is word count output, you ask? It’s when you say, I need to write 3,000 words a day no matter what it takes. If if takes me twelve or fourteen hours to get that 3,000 words, I’m going to do it.
Author Jeaniene Frost tweeted quite a long thread about the difficulty of word count days and how terrible writer exhaustion can be. If you’re interested, you can read that here: https://twitter.com/Jeaniene_Frost/status/984193058483982336
When I read that, I felt as though Jeaniene was writing about me. That’s what I’ve done for ten years, and that decade was on top of just completing two grad school programs. I think, looking back, it’s no wonder I crashed and had an upsurge of autoimmune symptoms. And I crashed hard. I had to sleep for three months, and I’m still in the process of fully recovering.
So! This blog piece is not meant as a complaint. This is simply to say, I am now needing and wanting to take an entirely different approach to writing. Now, like so many other people who go to work, I’m going to work for a certain number of hours in a day and then QUIT. I’m not going to make myself sit in the chair and force out more words to hit a word count goal. I’m going to say, at the end of my work day, that I did a good job no matter what my word count ends up being. Because while writing is most definitely putting words on a page, it’s also so much more. It’s world building. It’s plotting. And writing as a business has a surprising amount of administrative work attached to it too.
Putting out word count days does give a person the advantage of being able to calculate out a deadline. For example, writing 3,000 words a day means a 15,000-word count week. And that leads to a 90-95,000 full length book in a predictable amount of time.
NOT putting out word count days, but working, say, a 9 to 5 job instead… I haven’t done it yet, so I don’t know when it will result in a full-length book.
But it WILL result in finished books – and those books will probably be finished not too much later than the more difficult word count work model. Working an hour-based schedule will also result in a healthier writer who has time for self-care like exercise, weekends off, and making home cooked meals.
So that is how I will be writing from here on out. And that means my next book is coming. I’m not exactly sure when, but I will be working on it every day. I’ll share snippets of that journey with you from time to time, and as always, we will be sure to let you know when I finish drafting on LIONHEART and when pre-order pages are up. My guess is that it will be around August. We’ll find out.
April 5, 2018
Planet Dragos is now available for pre-order
I’m very excited that Planet Dragos is now available for pre-order in ebook format. Print and audio formats are forthcoming. You can pre-order at the following retailers:
Amazon
GooglePlay
Kobo
iBooks
Nook
Amazon CA
Amazon UK
Amazon AU
From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Thea Harrison comes the final novella featuring Pia and Dragos…
Pia’s latest pregnancy has become a daily challenge, her relationship with Dragos strained with argument. That hasn’t stopped them from achieving a compromise and traveling to Las Vegas to celebrate their friend Rune’s wedding to his mate Carling.
From the moment they arrive, the trip goes awry. Death walks in Vegas, and Pia is kidnapped as an ancient enemy makes a move to destroy the Great Beast once and for all.
But the Great Beast has other plans.
On Planet Dragos everything goes the way he arranges it—unless someone decides to cross him, and God help them then, because he doesn’t know how to back down, and he doesn’t ever, ever let up….
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January 19, 2018
My Christmas Present
I’ve been meaning to write a blog post for a while, but life has been getting in the way until now. Today I want to share a photo of my Christmas present from my daughter and her husband. The sellers of my new house had collected antique typewriters, and inspired by some of the photos, they bought me the Smith Corona typewriter shown on the shelf here.
I’m not much of a collector in general, but I am entertained by the idea of collecting a few old typewriters. Whether or not I follow through on the impulse is another matter. For now, I’ve been enjoying the sight of this one and some of the memories it has brought to the surface.
You see, I wrote my very first novel on a Smith Corona – not a model exactly like this one, because mine was an electric portable typewriter, but the color is very similar and when I put my fingers over the keys they feel the same. My body remembers that first typewriter I owned.
I was nineteen, and I’d been reading voraciously my whole life. When I was around twelve, I started reading romances, inspired by a family visit to my aunt and uncle’s house. They lived in deep country, so there wasn’t really much for a child to do except play outside (which I did) and read (which I did insatiably). The only fiction they had were Zane Grey westerns and romances – Harlequin romances, stories by Barbara Cartland, Emily Loring, Georgette Heyer, etc. I gobbled up both the westerns and the romances. When we went home, I didn’t pursue reading westerns, but I did keep reading romances.
Eventually, as I grew older, I started saying to myself, “I think I could do this. I really think I could write a book.” Then when I was around 16, I read an article in People magazine about successful romance authors. That article was responsible for turning me serious. The authors came from all walks of life. Janet Daily had been a secretary. This budding dream of mine was actually possible, I thought.
My teenage years were hit with a lot of challenges. My mother died from cancer, and I ended up in a young marriage, and then I ended a young mother, myself. My husband at the time and I were both college students, and we were struggling financially. Desperate to do anything to change my circumstances, I bought my little portable electric Smith Corona typewriter, took copious notes and created an outline, and wrote a book late at night while everyone else was asleep. I was short on sleep and strung out on coffee for months.
When I was finished, and I had edited the story, I sent to Harlequin Mills & Boon in Canada. And I waited, and waited. Finally after several months went by, I wrote them to follow up.
And I heard back from them. They had found promise in the story and had sent it on to the London office. An editor contacted me and requested changes, which I completed with feverish excitement… and my first book was sold, and published in 1981 (A Deeper Dimension).
For several years, I didn’t know any details about how I had gotten lucky – I only knew that I had. It was much later than I found out that, at that time, they received something like 10,000 unsolicited manuscripts a year, and they only accepted 4 to 6 new authors a year. I was one of the lucky ones, and for several years I was their youngest author.
I enjoy looking at this typewriter and remembering writing those early stories, and I hope you enjoy this story of how it all started. 
December 11, 2017
I should be packing…
If it feels like my house move has been going on for ages, that’s because it has. I started looking for a place a few months ago. Then there was the loan application and the closing process. All of you who have been through this process before, you know just how much fun I was having.
And now I’m officially into Move Week.
My two dogs and cat – Charlie, Phoebe, and Sweetie – left today. I said goodbye to them while they were in the back of the pet transportation van. The pet transport folks, a team of two, were very kind. The gentleman was older. Usually his wife is the second half of his team, but she had to stay at home because of an ailing mother, so he had a younger partner with him for the trip.
The older gentleman gave me a hug. Some people are not huggy people, but I am so I loved it. I kinda needed a hug today.
And the pets… all three were hooting and hollering. I looked at them with love and thought, yeah, this is why I don’t drive you guys across the country. Thanks to the pet transportation folks, they’ll be safe and treated well, and they will stay at a friend’s house until I reach the other side, and in the meantime I am now free to deal with what I need to do.
It was a relief when the van drove away, but much of the brightness in the day left with them. There aren’t any funny, affectionate companions hanging out by my feet while I type this. The SoCal house is quiet, and even though my stuff is all still here, a lot of it is in boxes and the place doesn’t feel lived in any longer.
The moving company shows up tomorrow, and I am not ready for them. I should be packing. Instead, I decided to write this.
I’m getting a house for Christmas, and I’m thrilled. Pretty thrilled. Theoretically thrilled. It’s all my choice, and I’m totally fine with having made it.
But moving during December feels weird. On the one hand, it’s great! Because of off-season pricing, I saved a lot on my moving company. But on the other hand, it’s a lonely business. I won’t be able to decorate for the holidays, or do any of the other things that many other folks are doing. Still, it will be worth it for the rewards, and that means I will doubly appreciate my Christmas tree next year.
Right now, since all my books are packed, I’m in search of great stories to load onto my kindle, because once again, books are going to get me through this transition in my life.
Stories are amazing, fundamental. They’re as necessary to me as food and drink, and perhaps they’re just as important to you too.
So before I shut down my internet for the last time in SoCal and disappear on my journey, I’m hoping you might help me out by posting either what you’re reading, or what you’re really looking forward to reading. I’ve got to grab some new stories and then get back to packing.
I’ll share photos of the house when I reach the other side!
December 10, 2017
Excerpt from Elizabeth Hunter’s “The Storm”
I have one more excerpt to share from AMID THE WINTER SNOW before it releases on Tuesday, December 12th. This delightful excerpt is from “The Storm,” by Elizabeth Hunter.
“How old is this place?”
“The house?” Renata walked away from the window and sat in a wooden rocking chair by the hearth. “I don’t know. It was here when I was born, so at least three hundred years, but it’s been rebuilt over the years. Things were added on here and there. There are eight bedrooms upstairs, so you’re welcome to prepare one for yourself if you like. Mine and the living room are the warmest though, so if I were you, I’d continue sleeping down here.”
He’d be sleeping in her bedroom, but that discussion could wait. “This was your family’s home?”
She shook her head, but she still wasn’t looking at him. “It didn’t belong to us. Not exactly. I’m sure the council has forgotten about it at this point. I’ve made sure the name on the deed is mine. They can’t take it now.” She turned. “I’m sure you’re thinking they wouldn’t be interested in a house this remote, but it’s not the house they’d want. It’s the caves.”
Max sat up and leaned against the sofa. “I wondered if there were caves when I saw how the house was built.”
“The caves are the only reason this house—this whole compound—ever existed. I don’t know how old they are, but my mother told me they were created by very powerful earth singers centuries ago.”
“Why?”
“To store the scrolls.”
Understanding dawned. “This was a library.”
Renata stood and grabbed wood for the fire, placing it on the glowing embers along with some kindling. “This was a library. A unique library. Ciasa Fatima was one of the few combined libraries in the world.”
Max didn’t say anything. For the first time since he’d known her, Renata was willingly sharing her past. It was as if she’d opened a jewel box and handed him rubies. He didn’t want to say anything that might make her clam up.
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December 8, 2017
Excerpt from Jeffe Kennedy’s “The Snows of Windroven”
Today I want to share a charming excerpt from Jeffe Kennedy’s “The Snows of Windroven” from the December 12th release of AMID THE WINTER SNOW.
“You could have danced with me,” Ami said, needling me, knowing exactly how to do it. “Then I wouldn’t have had to dance with anyone else.”
I didn’t bother pointing out that a man at arms didn’t dance with the Queen of Avonlidgh. Or that I couldn’t stay alert and protect her if we danced. Or that I’d never learned how. In Ami’s world, everyone learned to dance like they learned to walk. She forever forgot that we came from different worlds, whereas my burning shame forever reminded me of that unassailable fact.
I wouldn’t let her see that embarrassment, however. Better for her to think me uninterested in dancing than for her to glimpse the rough and desperate boy inside.
“Talk to me, Ash,” Ami commanded, all hint of flirtation vanished. “You know I hate it when you go all stoic White Monk on me.”
I swallowed a terse retort to that, searching for a diplomatic reply. “Wintering at Windroven is a romantic idea, but romance won’t last long if the volcano blows.” I cleared my throat of the choking fear of losing her in such a way. I lived with that fear daily, knowing full well I had no business thinking of her as mine in the first place. I’d lose her eventually—today, next month, or next year—but sooner rather than later. Making myself confront the eventuality of our parting had become a kind of daily, disciplined exercise for me. Like sword practice. I forced myself to exercise the muscles of loss, to contemplate that pain. I could survive it, I thought, as long as she was alive and happy.
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December 6, 2017
Excerpt from Grace Draven’s “The Darkest Midnight”
Here is a delightful excerpt from Grace Draven’s “The Darkest Midnight” in the December 12th release of AMID THE WINTER SNOW…
Jahna envied her that particular talent and wished she might be able to employ the same as she tried for a second time to reach the main doors. She wanted to race outside, kick up snow drifts and laugh with joy under the winter moon. Her euphoria over Dame Stalt’s offer wasn’t dimmed by yet another interruption, this one even more welcomed than the dame’s had been.
“You remind me of a lantern whose flame burns bright, my lady. Your eyes are dancing, though you are not.” Sir Velus raised a questioning eyebrow, his own eyes green as the coveted sea glass brought over the mountains by the intrepid trade caravans and sold as jewelry to rich noblewomen.
Jahna grinned, still riding on a swell of elation. “I don’t dance because I’m never asked, Sir Velus.” She hurried to qualify her statement in case he thought her remark a clumsy attempt at garnering an invitation from him. “And I value my feet. Too many drunk lords fancying themselves butterflies on the dance floor when they’re really oxen.” His low laughter joined hers, and she thought his as delightful as his speech. “Why aren’t you dancing?”
He’d been scrutinized, measured and admired the moment he walked through the doors. A person would have to be without eyes or blindfolded not to see it. That he hadn’t been swallowed up by the spinning, swaying crowd, a partner on his arm, puzzled Jahna.
Wry humor played across his mouth. “Because I’m not important enough or high enough in status to warrant the time. You’re young, but I suspect you know how this works. This is a dance only on the surface. Underneath is a battlefield and those who strategize best are the envy of even the most successful generals.”
She blinked. He had just neatly summed up why she disliked this particular festival dance. Its air of calculation, of desperate purpose, stripped the joy from it. People used the event as an excuse to maneuver for position in court and negotiate marriages and trade alignments. Her father waded into the thick of it, never dancing but flitting from one cluster of nobles to the next as he bargained and gleaned information that would expand his influence.
“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t participate, but from here, it feels like I’m watching a battle instead of a dance sometimes. I like the courtyard dances much more, especially the Maiden Flower Dance. Have you seen it?”
Her companion nodded. “I have. The villages closest to Ilinfan come together to celebrate Delyalda. The Maiden Flower Dance and the Firehound story are always the favorites.”
“I love the Firehound story!” Jahna blushed, mortified by her enthusiastic outburst. She sounded more like an overly excited seven-year-old than the dignified young woman her father so desperately wanted her to be.
Sir Velus grinned, the expression one of appreciation instead of mockery. “Mine too. One of the older swordmasters possesses a touch of sorcery and can create the Hound from flame, though to be honest there’s been years where it looks more like a rabbit or piglet.” He winked at her. “Keep that between us.”
A bubble of laughter escaped her, and she captured it by covering her mouth with her hand. She had met this man only hours earlier, knew almost nothing about him other than his profession and his purpose in being here, but oh, she liked him very much. There was about him a steady confidence, as if he was very sure of his place in the world, with no need to prove his worth to anyone. He’d shown her great kindness, even before he knew she was his employer’s daughter.
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