T.L. Schaefer's Blog, page 6

Meet Arin Thomas–Shoot to Thrill (CASI, Book 2)

I had a BUNCH of submissions come in to Liquid Silver, so been reading those.  Should be done with revisions on Shoot to Thrill on Friday, though (taking the day off just to do that), so thought I’d give you a taste.

With no further ado, meet Arin, the heroine from Shoot to Thrill…

And if you wanna see my inspiration board for this (and my other works), check out http://www.pinterest.com/terrischaefer/work-in-progress-shoot-to-thrill/

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Prologue

 

Now…  Kansas City, 7:45 pm

Once upon a time I had the world at my feet.  Now?  Crappy institutional-grade plaid carpet.  All the better to hide stains with.   I definitely wasn’t coming up in the world.

The FBI was under budget constraints, like everyone else, and it’d trickled down to us agents pretty quickly, in the form of less-than-fabulous digs while we were on the road.

I rifled through my case file box, looking for an interview done over thirty years ago.  Being the FBI’s go-to girl for the unofficial cold cases section had been my choice, my request, but it had become a parade of one low-budget chain hotel after the other, and now they all looked alike.  If I hadn’t eaten some pretty fabulous barbeque tonight, I probably wouldn’t even know I was in Kansas City.

I found the interview I was looking for and settled into the sole, worn, kinda stinky armchair.  I’d be re-interviewing this witness tomorrow, seeing if she remembered anything else about the little girl who’d disappeared from a neighborhood park thirty-two years ago, and the panel station wagon she’d last been seen in.  Hunters found her remains years later in Arkansas, with little forensic evidence to point out who’d killed her and left her body in a remote part of the Ozarks.  Dentals had confirmed her identity, and we’d been called in because the victim had been taken across state lines.

Standard procedure.  Which sucked on so many levels I couldn’t even begin to count them.  I really, really hated cases like this.  It was easier when it was an adult who disappeared, or was killed.  They’d had at least a fighting chance at life.  But a five year old? Hurting kids made me want to inflict some damage on the assholes who’d done this, who’d taken a child’s innocence and exploited it in the worst way possible.

Today had been one of those days—new case, dead kid, not-quite-shitty hotel.  My attitude reflected the downward slide of those three variables.  The food was the only thing tilting the scales on the side of good tonight.

So when my cell rang, I seriously debated even picking it up.  But I couldn’t let it go.  Never have been able to, probably never will.

“Thomas,” I answered, not even bothering to sound polite.  It wasn’t as if my bosses expected it of me anyway.

“You want to know about Burke?  Check out the Colorado Academy for Superior Intellect.  He was a student there.”

I shot up, phone gripped tight in my hand as I focused on the voice whispering spy-like and sinister in the phone’s earpiece.  “Pardon?”

“Wes Burke,” the caller repeated, “you’ll find the truth about him in Colorado.” And then the atonal, sexless voice was gone, replaced by a static-y hum that was somehow more disturbing than the words had been.

What the hell?  I eased back in my chair, the beer I’d had with my dinner threatening to come up.

I ran through the call in my head, trying and failing to make sense of it as my heartbeat echoed fast and shallow in my eardrums.

This was hinky on so many levels it made immediate alarm bells go off.  They’d used my unlisted Bureau phone and a name that pushed my most recent hot button.  Wes Burke, my sometimes-partner and the man who’d become the closest thing to family I’d had in almost a decade.  The man who’d held my most deeply-held secrets, held my hand when the world was crumbling around me.  An agent who’d died from a stupid, careless accident.  Or so I’d been told.  Repeatedly, and by a host of suits much higher in the FBI’s Albuquerque Field Office food chain.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.  This felt all wrong.  There’d been no threat, implied or otherwise.  So why did it feel as if someone had just waved a weapon in my face?

It was no secret I’d been poking around the investigation surrounding Wes’ death.  I wasn’t buying the whole “fell off a cliff to his death” scenario the Bureau had spoon-fed me and everyone else.  Not for one second.  Wes hadn’t been the type to take a swan dive.  He was too meticulous, too careful.  Too Wes.

As I thought about my mysterious, asexual caller, I began to get pissed, realizing it was probably one of the assholes in the office pulling my leg.  We’d buried Wes a month ago today.  It was an anniversary I’d been successfully avoiding even thinking about until the damned phone rang.

So was thirty days the statute of limitations on fucking with me?  Of making fun of me?  Of rubbing salt in a still-raw wound?  As much as I might not be all touchy-feely with my fellow agents, this went above and beyond bad behavior.

They’d poked at me in the past, but never something as brazen or hurtful as this.  And if they thought I’d let it go, they didn’t know me as well as they thought.  Because I’d figure out who was responsible for thinking this was fucking funny, and then stick it to them in the most publicly humiliating way I could.  But not for me.  For Wes.  For his memory.

The Bureau’s position on Wes’ death had been stupidly simple.  He’d been vacationing in Colorado and taken a fatal tumble off a four-thousand-foot cliff.  They were very careful to couch in terms that suggested an accident rather than suicide, but the implication was there, which made me see red.

I wasn’t someone who made friends easily, but Wes had always been there for me, with his quirky sense of humor and amazing teal eyes.  We’d joked about making our friendship more, back in the day, but it was nothing more than that.  Something two people who were utterly unattracted to each other laughed about.  We weren’t destined to become lovers, but instead had formed a familial bond that felt like siblings.  His death had carved a gaping hole in me I hadn’t felt in years, had hoped I would never feel again.

Wes had been one of the most carefully controlled people I’d ever met.  There was no way in hell he’d have jumped, and the likelihood of him allowing himself to get so close to a cliff if there was a danger of falling was an even further stretch.

Now, an agent being pushed was a whole different concept and one I’d turned over and over in my mind more times than I could count.  It made a hell of a lot more sense than suicide or an accident.  What I couldn’t figure out was why no one else in the Bureau seemed interested in going down that road.

As FBI agents, we all made enemies over the course of our career, and Wes, as a fast-burner, had made more than most.  So while I might not actively be investigating what really happened to Wes, I knew I’d look into this Colorado Academy for Superior Intellect.  Wes had died in Colorado, and it seemed just a bit too pat to me…too easy that a “clue” would happen to fall in the same area.  And if the morons in my office were the ones to give me a good lead, thinking it was a funny, then so much the better.

A look behind the curtain…Asa Dobbs

I’ve been trying to think of something to post that sounds even reasonably interesting, but apparently I’m boring  But this morning I had an idea that might put me back on track when it comes to sending something your way on occasion.  So here it is… I’m just gonna post a quick excerpt of a story I’ve started, and then popped into the “get to it at some point” folder.

Today’s is gonna end up as a freebie at some point, after I sell Shoot to Thrill, kind of a synchronous break  before I start Lunatic Fringe, and is the intro to Asa Dobbs. For those of you who have read Behind Blue Eyes, the name might be familiar, as Brian talks about him a bit… With no further ado, meet Senior Airman Asa Dobbs.

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Senior Airman Asa Dobbs ignored the bead of sweat creeping past the outer edge of his left eye and squinted, concentrating on the camp below him, portrayed in the eerie green of his night vision goggles.  There…  He tracked the target slowly, cataloging mannerisms, the way the dead man walking moved.

The vision hit him as all the others had, with a slow fading of his “here” sight, as it morphed into the “other”.   In his minds-eye the desert around him disappeared, replaced by the murky interior of a building, cluttered and dirty.  In the center of the room sat a card table surrounded by four men, each sweating as they smoked contraband cigarettes.  His target gestured angrily, pointing to a map centered atop the table, before driving the tip of his knife into the flimsy paper, leaving the hilt swaying with the force of his blow.

Asa forced his floating body forward, until he stood between two of the insurgents, his target directly across the table.  The map was of the Coalition encampments, the blade tip skewering the very camp he was stationed at.

His vision misted once again, and he “saw” the carnage these men would wreak, the broken and battered bodies strewn across a supposedly safe zone, the smoldering ruins of the battalion aid center.  The red cross adorning the tent now draped across the latrines in silent mockery.

This was what he’d been meant to see.  He withdrew, retreating to the here-and-now.  With a sharp blink of his eyes, the vision of the building dissolved, replaced by the reality of Iraq.

Asa slithered down the slope and headed in to camp, finding the one man he could trust.  Technical Sergeant David Carmichael.

Carmichael crouched in a shallow ditch, his own NVGs trained on very same camp, a camp where they suspected a driver from a supply convoy was being held.  As pararescue, they weren’t usually the first in, but in this case, they’d been the closest unit for recon until regular Army troops arrived.

Asa jumped into the ditch, not surprised when Carmichael didn’t even flinch.  His sergeant was made of ice.  A very large, very powerful block of ice.

“Speak,” Carmichael rasped in a voice scarred by too many cigarettes, too much tequila, his voice quiet but commanding.

“He’s not in there,” Asa whispered, “but they’re planning a hit on CampCharlie.”

Carmichael swiveled slowly and pushed the NVGs atop his head before giving Asa the fish-eye.  “What did you see?”

Asa swallowed past a knot the size of Texas.  “Tonight, maybe tomorrow night.  If we hit them now, we can stop it.”  Carmichael hadn’t believed in his visions, not at first, none of them had, but Asa had pulled their bacon out of the fire once to often.  Now all of them relied on his gift.  Hell, even Roney had finally bought in, but he’d been a hard-assed bastard to convince.

Iraq was a helluva long way from Kansas, and he intended to make it back to Wichita in one piece.  And if he had his way, his comrades would be going back to their state of choice right beside him…not in a fucking body bag.

Good morning! After a long blogging vaca, trying somethi...

Good morning!  After a long blogging vaca, trying something a bit different!  This is a feature I participate in semi-regularly on FB, so thought I’d give it a shot over here too!  Basically myself and a bunch of other authors put up a teaser for folks to read.   This week I’m giving you a peek into Behind Blue Eyes. Hope you enjoy meeting Sara!

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Pure malevolence weighted the air as I pulled my SUV into a No Parking zone and slapped a DPD placard on the dashboard. Guess I’d been right…again. Damn it.

Camera in hand, I walked quickly down the filthy alleyway, trying not to breathe too deeply, but failing miserably. The rank aroma of urine, spilled beer and marijuana permeated the air, and it took everything in me not to spew.

I didn’t because I’m a professional, and I’ve seen and lived through worse. Much worse. But now was really not the time to go there.

My pace slowed as I approached the yellow crime scene tape fluttering feebly in the sweltering, almost-midnight breeze. Kliegs starkly illuminated the scene, showcasing graffiti-riddled walls rising above clumps of refuse that looked disturbingly like used condoms and dirty needles. Yeah, great neighborhood. But in my experience, murderers didn’t traditionally stick to the high-end zip codes.

Enough stalling. I took a tainted breath and slid my tinted glasses off slowly, wincing before the scene had even fully unfolded before my defenseless gaze.

Pure sensation arrowed through me with ripping claws, cleaving my brain before settling into a low throb pounding behind my eyes, making me close them in pure reflex. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.

“You okay, Sara?” The concerned voice came from my left and belonged to Officer Juan Alvarez, the uniform who’d been first on scene and happened to be one of my few friends. Sorta.

I gave him a grunt for an answer and prepared myself for what I would see when I opened my eyes again. I whispered a low prayer that it wouldn’t be as bad as my initial impression, and took the plunge.

As crime scenes go, this one was no better or worse than the hundreds of others I’d visited over my career as a photographer. At least not on the surface. Beneath it was a whole ’nother story.

My stomach rolled as my brain tried to process the lust, hatred and terror imprinted on the next dimension. Sights and sensations only I could see and feel. It was my gift, my curse.

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And hey, wanna read other great stuff? Check out the other authors participating this week!

http://www.facebook.com/AuthorAmyCorwin

Anne Marie Becker, Author

Boone Brux

C.J. Ellisson

The Official Calinda B Author Fansite

@ChristineLondonAuthor

Author Gem Sivad

@lindalovelyauthor

Susan Vaughan, Author

Guest Blog Goodness…Rebecca Royce–Writing Outside My Comfort Zone

I’m pleased as punch to feature an author I’ve known for what seems like forever.  Crap, did I just suggest we’re old?  LOL.  Well, maybe in the game of digital publishing we are.

Soooo, with no further ado, meet Rebecca!!

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Writing Outside of My Comfort Zone

When I was first approached about writing a Prepper story (more on that in a moment) it floored me a little bit.  As a rule, I tend to write Paranormal Romance novels. Why is this? Well, it’s really a two-fold reason.  First, I really like to write Paranormal Romance.  Second, there is a lot of discussion in the industry these days about finding a brand and sticking to it.  Apparently, it helps us with selling.

But this story would not be a Paranormal story. A pure contemporary and about a subject I didn’t know that much about at that time.  Still, I heard myself agreeing to do it even as my hands started to shake thinking about it.

I visited websites and started to read about end of the world preparation. Some of it seemed simple and things I did without realizing I was ‘prepping.’ For example, we live in an area that can burn easily if a fire is started. Two years before we moved here, the whole subdivision we live in had to evacuate because part of it had gone ablaze.  So, I have a bag packed for all of our irreplaceable stuff.  Pictures. Papers.  Things I can’t get replaced at a discount store.  For us, it just made sense to have this done.

Then there were larger sites. Things dedicated to really living under ground if you had to in bunkers.  A story formulated in my mind and out of it this really fun contemporary (non-Paranormal story) that I felt excited to write! Now, I have no idea if anyone will want to read a pure contemporary by Rebecca Royce.  I promise I’m back to writing about things that go bump in the night.  But, I hope some people will want to check out some real life tales by me too because I really loved doing it.

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And now, a special treat…the blurb *and* excerpt fun!

Melanie is a woman who prepares for disasters.  If the world as she knows it were to come grinding to a disastrous halt, her Sustainable Living Community will be ready and able to take care of the people in their area. She doesn’t have a man in her life anymore but she has her daughter and that’s enough.

Until a tall, dark stranger drives into her life.

Griffith is on a mission to find Melanie’s ex-husband Victor, who has stolen a very expensive new drug from a pharmaceutical company.  Griffith is a man who can find what others can’t.  He never backs down from a fight and he’s never afraid until he sees Melanie.  She steals his breath and makes him wish for things he’s never wanted before.

They are two people who can prepare for everything except the depths of their own need for each other.

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“I married him because I got pregnant.” She put her hands on her hips. “And I won’t take his money because I won’t take money from the pharmaceutical companies. No offense.”

“Gee, why would I take offense when you meant to insult me?” Melanie’s face turned a lovely shade of cherry as he spoke.

“Truth is, I meant to say something nasty about Victor. I forgot, momentarily, what you do and who you do it for.”

He shrugged like he words hadn’t stung a bit. The pharmaceutical companies did both good and bad things. Griffith didn’t have to feel one-hundred-percent comfortable all the time to still know he worked on the right side of the law.Love in One Night 7

“Theft is theft. I give them back things they’ve lost.” He moved along the edge of the room. Melanie must be organized. Everything had a label, down to the box holding sponges. “And I’d bet when you get a headache, you take a Tylenol.”

“I’d try magnesium and zinc, but your point is taken. I shouldn’t be generalizing. I don’t like when it’s done to me.”

Griffith had to get out of there before he did anything really asinine, like give the blushing woman a hug. He pulled out his card. “If you hear from Victor or you think of anything, give me a call. I’ll be staying in Austin overnight.”

“Right.” She took his card. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way down here for nothing.”

“I’m not.” Her eyes widened, and he had a moment of sheer male satisfaction. He’d been able to shock her.

“You haven’t asked me why I do this. Why I’m so prepared for a disaster? You haven’t asked. Everyone does.”

“I’ve been a lot of places. I think preparing for things, even if they might never occur, makes pretty good sense. I guess we all have our own reasons for why we do what we do.”

She bit down on her lower lip, chewing on it as she regarded him with narrowed eyes. “So you want to know why I married Victor but not why I formed a whole community dedicated to organic farming in the desert, self-sustaining living, and disaster preparedness?”

“Melanie, if you want to tell me, I’d be really amenable to hearing.” Anything she wanted to say would be fine by him. She could read the phone book aloud, and he’d sit like a good little boy and listen to her.

“Maybe I could. Over dinner tonight.”

His heart skipped a beat. Had she actually asked him out? His mouth opened and closed. When he’d gotten off the plane in Austin, he’d had no idea he’d be stepping onto a sustainable farm, a converted bomb shelter, and asked to dinner by a hot redhead.

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Check out Rebecca’s other works (and there are LOTS!!) at:

www.rebeccaroyce.com

www.rebeccaroyce.blogspot.com

https://twitter.com/#!/rebeccaroyce

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Rebecca-Royce/172551376131638?sk=wall

Goals Update…

So March was a meh month for me when it came to meeting my goals.  I think it was the pre-springtime blahs, or maybe it’s because we had a ton of personal stuff (all good) going on.  Anyway, here’s this month’s progress.

Jan
Feb
Mar


Lose 13 pounds (total lost to date)
3/13
7/13
7/13


Drink 90 oz of water a day, a minimum of 13 days a month
13
6
5


Walk 13 miles/week
14.35
11.4
11.9


Blog 13 times/month
8
6
3


Write 1300 words/day at least 13 days/month
0
1K/16.9K
2K/16.9K


Review 13  books
2/13
3/13
3/13


Read 13 reference books
0
0
0


Watch 13 movies I keep putting off (and review them)
1/13
0
0


Find at least 13 new music artists
0
0
0


Wine Reviews
1/13
0
0


Log foods 13 times/month
28
28
0


Find 2 other things I’d like to do…
 
 
 

When it comes to blogging, I’ve been doing this blog for a long, long time, and honestly don’t want to blog just to blog, so from now on, it’ll be for any kind of writing announcements, guest bloggers, any book reviews I decide to do (especially now that Amazon has hoovered up Goodreads, and I won’t be able to post there), and stuff like that.

The writerly stuff will also include things like contest announcements (which I’ll be starting up again with the release of my latest book in July), so stay tuned!

March Goals Update

Still doing well on the weight loss front (yeah!), and while I didn’t get as far on my posted goals as I would have liked, I’m hoping things even out a bit across the board for the month of March.  Cross fingers for me!

Jan
Feb


Lose 13 pounds (total lost to date)
3/13
7/13


Drink 90 oz of water a day, a minimum of 13 days a month
13
6


Walk 13 miles/week
14.35
11.4


Blog 13 times/month
8
6


Write 1300 words/day at least 13 days/month
0
1K/16.9K


Review 13  books
2/13
3/13


Read 13 reference books
0
0


Watch 13 movies I keep putting off (and review them)
1/13
0


Find at least 13 new music artists
0
0


Wine Reviews
1/13
0


Log foods 13 times/month
28
28

TABT…Firelight (Darkest London) by Kristen Callihan

This was a REALLY fun read. Kind of a Beauty and the Beast setup, set in regency London, with a definite supernatural, woo-woo bent.  Miranda was great, and I loved how she grew as a character throughout the story.  Don’t want to spoil anything, but she really shines in the end. Archer was fabulous, the kind of tortured hero with a true heart of gold romance readers love to celebrate.  And together?  Together they were magical, in more ways than one.  Can’t wait to read the next book in the series!

I’d definitely recommend this book for paranormal romance fans looking for a different venue/time period than the norm, it’s worth it!

Snow’s almost melted…

Promised I’d post a snow pic of the house after last week’s snowstorm.  Got about 7 inches on Monday night/Tuesday, lost power in the wee hours of Tuesday morning and didn’t get it back until Thursday about noon.  Brrrrr!

TABT: One Good Friend Deserves Another

I’m not usually a huge fan of non-genre fiction, or at least I haven’t been in the past, so this book was a pleasant surprise.  It really hit the right notes with me, probably because of the protagonists’ ages:  late thirties.   I could identify with them and their struggles more than a lot of the angsty women’s fiction that highlights younger women.

This story follows the lives and loves of four women over a three-monthish period.  Each of them must truly face and question the things they thought to be the truth, and make decisions that will impact the rest of their lives.  I know that’s a really wishy-washy description, but I don’t want to give anything away!

I really enjoyed that there was a lot of diversity in this book, both racially and economically.  I particularly enjoyed the snapshot of Indian culture.  It was a wonderful change of pace!

So, if you’re looking for a mature coming-of-age story, I can definitely recommend this one.

Media Monday: Sherlock Holmes (2009)

I’m currently sniveling my way through a blossoming head cold, and there’s nothing better to combat that than a good movie, right?  Sherlock Holmes came on last night, and I realized I hadn’t reviewed it here yet.  Plus, the next movie we have up in the Netflix queue  is the second one in the series, so I figured it was an opportune time.

So, Robert Downey, Jr. and Jude Law.  Need I say more?  LOL.  No, really.  IMO this is a perfect date movie.  It’s smart, sexy and funny.  Downey, Law & McAdams have a fabulous chemistry together, and I love the spin Director Guy Ritchie put on the whole Holmes/Watson mythos.  Seeing Holmes as a brawler was a great character growth tool, as was Watson’s goal of becoming “normal”, which was thwarted by Holmes at every turn.

The depiction of turn-of-the-century London was fabulously gritty, and the music was just awesome.  If you haven’t seen this one yet, do it!