Sarah Cass's Blog: Sarah's StoryLines, page 10

Desired by Stacey Kennedy

Enter to Win $100.00 Amazon Gift Card or, eBook of CLAIMED (Club Sin #1) Readers of Fifty Shades of Grey are sure to love Desired, USA Today bestselling author Stacey Kennedy’s latest seductive, electrifying novel of Club Sin, where fantasy becomes reality. Kyler Morgan, Master at the legendary Club Sin in Las Vegas, knows how to give women what they want—too well. He hasn’t had a real challenge in a long time. Then Ella Snow enters his life. Beautiful, inhibited, and innocent in the ways of submission and domination, Ella is the new blood he’s been lusting after. Soon, the thrill of training her to embrace his world brings forth desires Kyler cannot control. After ending an abusive relationship, Ella makes a promise to herself to start living life to the fullest. It’s one of the reasons she seeks out Club Sin. Here, Kyler’s every touch is a lesson in liberation, stirring passions that have no bounds. But as she falls under Kyler’s command, Ella discovers that some secrets are so dark they must come to light. Submission alone may not be enough to save her, leaving her Master with only one question: How can he help Ella heal while unlocking the deep pleasures she craves? a Rafflecopter giveaway Stacey Kennedy is the USA Today bestselling author of the Club Sin series. Growing up, Stacey’s mind wandered the path less traveled, and that path most often led to love. She has always broken rules and she continues to feed off emotion—always staying true to her heart. Those traits are now the bones of her stories. She lives in southwestern Ontario with her husband, who puts any of the heroes in her books to shame, and their two young children. If she’s not on Mom duty or plugging away at a new story, you’ll find Stacey camping in the summer, hibernating in the winter, and obsessing over Penny Dreadful, Game of Thrones, and Sons of Anarchy. WEBSITE  |  FACEBOOK  |  TWITTER    

Distant Love by Layla Merritt

Distant Love Layla Merritt Kate Braxton has fallen into the role most women do by putting someone else’s needs above her own. In reality, she lives day to day unable to overcome the scars of her past to allow herself to move on with her life. Her divorce and a new job just might open the door to a brighter future for her. Brayden Bennett is sexy and successful in the marketing firm he works for, but has been used and discarded by women, leaving him hurt and guarded. The beautiful new hire in Atlanta captures his attention in ways he didn’t think possible and he can’t help but wonder if she holds the key to his caged heart. Kate is taking care of her ill father in Atlanta and Brayden’s son ties him to Chicago. Can they dare to dream of a future together? Can Kate survive the freak accidents that keep occurring, or will their relationship end in tragedy before they can figure out a way to be together? Amazon

Pulled Within by Marni Mann

Buy Links | Amazon | BN | iTunes |   Blurb Storms can’t last forever…can they? For five long years, Rae Ryan has lived in a storm over which she has no control. Little by little, everything has been taken away from her—her job, her relationship, her best friend and her home. Plagued by nightmares and a terrible family secret, she carries her scars as much on the inside as she does on the outside. Hart Booker, another disappointment from her past, returns to Bar Harbor and shelters her from the rain. He reminds Rae that forgiveness is possible, happiness can be found on the other side of darkness, and beauty rests beneath her scars. But a sinister figure lingering in the background seems determined to pull Rae back into a past she’s been trying to outrun. Can she survive the storm and become part of the light she so desperately desires? Or is she destined to remain Pulled Within? Recommended for mature audiences due to explicit language, sexual abuse, disturbing situations, and drug use.  Link to Follow Tour:  http://www.tastybooktours.com/2014/08... Goodreads Link:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...  Rafflecopter Giveaway (Two Digital Copies of PULLED BENEATH) a Rafflecopter giveaway Excerpt “Do you know what the rain is?” he asked. I was curled in a ball in the corner of the couch. A candle flickered on the table. It was the only light in the house; we’d lost power from the storm. He’d even let me take the candle into the potty with me, but he told me not to flush. I kinda liked that. The noise the toilet made could be so loud and scary at night. I pulled the blanket even tighter around me. “No…what is it?” “It’s the tears from all the people who cried today. The sky pulls them out of all the tissues and sleeves and holds them up there until it’s full. Then, it comes raining down on us.” A chill ran over me, covering my skin in tiny bumps as I remembered how mean the rain had gotten. It felt like our house had been shaking. “Why did the storm sound so angry?” “The sky doesn’t just take tears; it also takes the sounds that people make. That yelling you did while you cried this afternoon came right back at us, didn’t it?” I couldn’t control my temper sometimes. I wanted to. I tried really hard to. I just didn’t want Mommy to go to work because Darren got so sad whenever she left. And what made him sad, made me sad. “So if I cry softly, it won’t thunder as much?” “Come on over here, Rae.” I glanced toward the rocking chair where he was sitting. The candle lit up his face and his open arms. With the blanket still around me, I tiptoed over to him. He pulled me onto his lap, tucking my legs into the side of the chair and wrapping his arms around me. We swayed back and forth. “You’re a good girl. You have no reason to be shedding those tears, and especially no reason to be yelling like that.” Back and forth. Mommy said I was a strong girl, a smart girl. He always said I had the prettiest smile of all the girls he’d ever seen. Strong, pretty girls didn’t need to cry. Darren didn’t need to cry, either. I wanted to tell him that, but he was in his room. He was always in there. He said he didn’t like hanging out anywhere else in the house. He was so silly. I stretched my hands out of the blanket and placed them on top of his. His knuckles were so rough and hard. Chapped like my lips after I cried. They held me tight, but it didn’t hurt. “Rest your head on my chest and let’s see if we can get you to sleep. It’s past your bedtime, my good girl.” I pressed my cheek against his shirt. It was soft. Much softer than his knuckles, and the hairs around his neck tickled my nose. Back and forth. “I want you to think of good things. Pretty things. No more rain tonight, only rainbows.” His fingers moved out from under mine and he ran them through the loose strands of my hair. My eyes closed. My breathing slowed. His thumb dipped onto my neck, but the rest of his hand stayed in my hair. Back and forth. “You’re such a good girl, Rae.” Back and forth. Author Info Best-selling author Marni Mann, knew she was going to be a writer since middle school. While other girls her age were daydreaming about teenage pop stars, Mann was fantasizing about penning her first novel. She crafts sexy, titillating stories that weave together her love darkness, mystery, passion, and human emotion. A New Englander at heart, she now lives in Sarasota, Florida with her husband and their two dogs who subsequently have been characters in her books. When she’s not nose deep in her laptop working on her next novel, she’s scouring for chocolate, sipping wine, traveling to new locations, and devouring fabulous books.   Author Links Website:   http://www.marnismann.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarniMannAuthor Twitter:  http://twitter.com/MarniMann Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...     

Tuesday Tales – Letter – Natural Selection

Welcome back to Tuesday Tales!  This weeks prompt is Letter. It’s been quite some time since I brought Natural Selection to Tuesday Tales.  Actually, it’s been some time since I actually worked on it (since March of this year – the last time it was in Tuesday Tales). I decided to dust it off and turn it into a full novel so I could submit it before the end of the year. For those that have forgotten (or weren’t here) – this is my historical paranormal with werewolves. Leilyn is the heroine and she washed up on shore where Dell (the hero) found her on their packs lands. Long story short, it turns out she is actually part of their pack-stolen when she was just over a year old after a vicious attack on her home pack. Jasper, Dell’s father and the pack alpha, knew immediately who she was because of her unique eyes. After she had a freakout (having your world turned on its head will do that to a girl), he has decided to help her find her own instinctual sense of home by taking her to the home she was born in. He’s just revealed her mother and father’s names and that her father was an Indian with his own unique magic. Now he tries to get her to go inside: Unfamiliar emotions swept through her soul. From belonging, to protection, she shook her head against them. She was used to feeling like an alien among her kind. To her, that was normal. “So everything I have ever known is wrong.” “No, not everything. You know about pack politics, right?” “Not really. I was kept out of it.” She shrank away from his growl. “All I know is my uncle—no, I guess he wasn’t my uncle. He was the alpha.” “You could shrug off his power?” “Most of the time. Unless Tess was with him.” “Tess?” She chewed her lip, not wanting to expose too many details about the pack she’d known her whole life. When she opened her mouth to say more hot fire burned into her ankle again. The heat coursed through her and she gasped, dropping to grab the focus of the pain. “Leilyn.” Jasper set a hand on his shoulder as he bent beside her. “You’re all right.” His reassurance soothed the ache running through her until it remained only on her ankle. She tried to hold her hand in place, but Jasper brushed it aside. The birthmark she’d had her whole life had turned an ugly red like someone had placed a brand over the spot. Jasper ran his hand over the mark and it faded back to almost nothing. Once again it was little more than a mark barely distinguishable from her tanned flesh. “Better?” Suspicion crawled through her gut and she glared at him. “What did you do?” “That wasn’t me. Now come.” He helped her back to her feet. “Come inside. You were very young when you were taken, but something might be familiar to you.” “Tell me what happened.” “I will.” He paused in the doorway. “I promise. Right now you have far too much weighing on your mind and heart. You need something that will help you cling to your true instincts.” With no hint of malice or force of alpha power behind his stance, her curiosity won out over her lingering suspicion. She slipped into the dark cabin. The musty scent of neglect drew a sneeze from her sensitive nose. “Why is it still abandoned?” “Remember I said your father had magic?” Light flickered through the cabin after a scratch of a match. The light grew brighter as Jasper approached with a lantern in his hand. “Yes.” She had her flaws, but a dull mind was not one of them. “He protected his home from any outsiders. Others could move in here, but they would never be comfortable. We chose to leave it as a testament to those we lost. Olive used to come in and clean once a week, but after ten years she backed off. Now she only comes in a few times a year, Dell and Byron have kept up with repairs to ensure it doesn’t collapse. Otherwise, everything is how your parents left it that day.” She nodded, but found herself unable to move from her spot. If she found something familiar, what would that mean? How many times could her world get turned on its head? “It’s your home, should you choose to keep it. If you do, Olive can clean it up and make it livable again for you.” “I can clean my own home.” Once she realized what she’d said out of pure reaction, she backtracked. “No matter where that is.” A knowing smile flickered across the alpha’s features, but he didn’t correct her. He glanced around the room. “Do you feel comfortable here?” “Yes.” She couldn’t deny that truth, and didn’t bother to. “Don’t you?” “I do, but Edith and John were my best friends.” “John?” “He took an English first name. You were born as Mohegan Black Bear.” She lifted the lantern to scan the room. Simple furniture sat near the fireplace to her left. Two chairs that appeared handmade, one of which rocked were centered in by a modest sofa. A desk lay against the wall to her right, with what appeared to be an unfinished letter on top. The kitchen was open, a cabinet on the wall and a table with two chairs and a highchair pulled up to it as if waiting for the family to join in a warm meal. The rest of the house hid behind the door on the farthest wall. Still, she couldn’t move from her spot. A part of her wanted to run back to find the people that were supposed to be there. The people, she realized, that could well be her parents. Two people that wouldn’t return home. “Go ahead and explore,” Jasper urged her in a quiet tone. “This visit is for you, not me. I’ll remain here to take you back when you’re ready to leave.” Somehow she forced her feet to move while the two halves of her warred. One part wanted to turn around and run from the house and this past she couldn’t remember. The other wanted to stay and learn all she could about who she might have been. She made her way through the kitchen into the back where the bedroom. A trundle bed sat alongside a large handcrafted bed. Above the trundle hung a dreamcatcher which she couldn’t resist reaching for. Before she touched it, the familiarity of the action made her pause. Rather than risk following the instinct, she rose and crossed the room. A glimmer on the dresser drew her eye and she moved closer. She touched the gold locket gently. Her heart clenched and she picked it up. “Mama.” The truthfulness of Jasper’s earlier comment that her natural instinct would lead her hit home. She put down the lamp so she could put on the locket. Every doubt flew away as she played with the gold piece between her fingers. “Jasper,” she spoke in a whisper knowing his sharp ears would hear. “How long are Werewolves memories?” “I think you know the answer to that,” his reply came just as quiet. “But it seems that Weres have longer memories than humans. We have some pack members that can remember as early as their first month of life. Often in small capsules of moments, but they are there.” She swiped at her cheek to rid herself of a betraying tear. Memories much like he’d described, brief moments in time emerged from wherever they’d been hidden. “Why couldn’t I remember before?” “I’m not sure. We’ll make sure we find out.” Once she was certain all signs of her upset were gone, she grabbed the lantern and returned to the living room. “I want to learn all I can about Werewolves. Everything I wasn’t taught.” “Of course. I will assign Byron to the task. I think you’re more comfortable with him than an alpha while you’re struggling.” She wrinkled her nose against the half-truth she sensed in the statement, but nodded. “I am comfortable with Byron. He makes me laugh.” “He has that effect on many people.” “I want to start first thing tomorrow.” “No.” He held up his hand to stop her protest. “First thing tomorrow I will take you on a hunt. You need it, and until you’re more settled I don’t care for you hunting alone in unfamiliar territory. I don’t think you wish to be shot for crossing a line you don’t know is there.” A hunt sounded too good to pass up, so she nodded. “Fine. Right after, then.” “Right after.”   *~* Hope you enjoyed it!  Click on the Tuesday Tales badge to see more excellent entries!!

Sunday Snippets 52 – Masked Hearts

Welcome back to the Weekend Writing Warriors! I’m back with my travelling wild west show story, Masked Hearts. Continuing right after last weeks snippet. Minnie has told Roy she doesn’t play him for the role he was forced to play in her past: His eyes tightened and he pulled her fingers away. “Minnie.” “The last memory my mother had was of a rape, to protect her children. To let as many survive as they could.” She got to her feet and tugged on his hand. Once he rose to his feet she led him back toward her bedroom. “Hewechee,” his voice grew hoarse as she drew him to  a stop outside her door. “As much as I want to—are you sure?” *No creative editing was used to get the 8 *~* If you want more of these wonderfully damaged pair…pick up a copy! | Amazon | SCP | BN | ARe |  Minnie Woodward lives a lie. After barely surviving the Bear River Massacre she’s lived in the white world of her guardian Mister Rawlins, her life debt keeping her tied there. The last thing she needs is Roy’s attempts to gain her favor. Her fate’s sealed. She’s never believed in hope, and not even Roy can make her start. Roy Ornum saves Minnie every night in the traveling Wild West show. The job he took to break his gambling habit brought him a new addiction – her. He knows she doesn’t want to be rescued, but maybe he does. She’s the key to a past he lost, one he wants to find again. As the two grow closer old wounds are reopened and their burgeoning trust is shattered. When lives hang in the balance of their choices they’ll need to work together. Otherwise everything will be lost before hope can be found. *~* Head back on over to the Weekend Writing Warriors to read many more wonderful offerings!

Stirring Up Trouble by Kimberly Kincaid

Buy Links | Amazon | BN | iTunes | Blurb  Sloane Russo’s turned a decade of crazy jobs and whimsical travel into a career writing steamy novels set in exotic places. Trouble is, Sloane’s flat broke now–and she can’t channel sun-drenched beaches in the Blue Ridge Mountains. The only fast cash in town comes with some seriously distracting temptation: Gavin Carmichael, hot, handsome and oh-so-hard-headed. Gavin isn’t the impulsive Don Juan of Sloane’s novels. He’s raising his thirteen-year-old half-sister, and he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to act like he’s never heard of fun. Sloane is way too sexy and irresponsible to be his idea of a good tutor for Bree, but the unpredictable anti-nanny may be irresistible as well. . .   Link to Follow Tour:  http://www.tastybooktours.com/2014/08... Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...   Author Info Kimberly Kincaid writes contemporary romance that splits the difference between sexy and sweet. When she’s not sitting cross-legged in an ancient desk chair known as “The Pleather Bomber”, she can be found practicing obscene amounts of yoga, whipping up anything from enchiladas to éclairs in her kitchen, or curled up with her nose in a book. Kimberly is a 2011 RWA Golden Heart® finalist who lives (and writes!) by the mantra that food is love. Her digital Line series is all about the hot cops and sexy chefs of Brentsville, New York. She is also the author of the Pine Mountain series, which follows small town singles as they find big-time love. Kimberly resides in Virginia with her wildly patient husband and their three daughters.  Author Links Website:  http://www.kimberlykincaid.com/ Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/kimberly.kin... Twitter:  https://twitter.com/kimberlykincaid Goodreads:https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...   Rafflecopter Giveaway (Two sets of the first two Pine Mountain books, Turn Up The Heat and Gimme Some Sugar, US/Canada only) a Rafflecopter giveaway Excerpt A question poked at Gavin’s conscience, getting increasingly louder until he finally gave it a voice. “Look…don’t take this the wrong way, but this is over three weeks’ worth of work. I’ve got to ask, how much help did you give Bree, exactly?” Sloane made a less-than-dainty sound and rolled her eyes. “I already passed eighth-grade English, and I’m not exactly eager to do any of the writing on my own again. Bree busted her butt, I assure you.” She started to wad up the discarded pages at her feet, muttering a low oath as the ball got big enough to exceed her hand. Okay, so that had come out more accusatory than he’d intended. He knelt to help her collect the crumpled pages. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you did it for her.” “Sure you did. But like I said, you don’t have to worry. I helped her, but only as much as she’d let me. Once we got started, she really did most of it without even talking to me.” Now there was something he could relate to. “Yeah, that sounds like her.” The ache in his bones migrated to include everything beneath his sternum, and Gavin let out a tired exhale. He reached for the last scrap of paper at the exact moment Sloane did. Unable to change his course of movement without making contact, his fingertips brushed against the top of her hand as she closed a fist over the page, and the sheer heat of her skin under his hand registered in a jolt. “Whoops, sorry.” He withdrew his hand and looked up, only to discover his face about six inches from a pair of heart-shaped lips, parted in a look of surprise. “I didn’t mean to…” A quick gesture to her hand completed the sentence. Her skin was so soft, like a stretch of perfectly golden caramel, warm and sweet and utterly decadent. For a hot, impulsive moment, he wondered if she tasted the way she looked. “No biggie,” she murmured, not moving her eyes from his. Up close in the soft lamp light, they looked even prettier, kind of a cross between a summer sky and gathering storm clouds, and the juxtaposition caught him square in the chest. His left knee pressed against her right thigh from when they’d both knelt down on the floorboards, and even through the wool and denim, heat coursed from her body in waves. He meant to lean back, to correct the mistake of accidentally invading her space and just let her go. Gavin commanded himself to move, to say good night, and give her enough room to walk out the door. But instead, he kissed her.

5 Things I’ve Learned by Author H.D. Lynn

No one can teach you your voice. I started writing when I was six (books about talking horses if you must know). One thing about six year olds you notice is that they do things (pick their nose, play in the sand, color on walls) because they find them interesting enough to capture their short attention spans. I made picture books because I liked reading picture books. No one was teaching me how to do that. To put your mind at ease, I’ll let you know that God’s Play is not a picture book about talking horses. It does have one thing in common: no one taught me how to write those characters. I didn’t take a class on how to write Toby’s POV. There’s no Ph.D. in storytelling because humans have been telling stories to each other probably as long as our brains have been capable of doing so. After inventing the alphabet, humans literally started writing fiction. My point is, if you can read and write, you can tell a story. But a good story? Yeah, that’s the question I know you’ve asked yourself because I ask myself that same question all the time, too. Is it good? That’s a bit subjective, but part of good storytelling comes from practice. You’ve just got to go for it and tell yourself as many stories as possible. Silly stories. Sad stories. Salubrious stories. Anything, really, to get an idea of what you—yes, you—want to say. But you can certainly learn everything else. Horses to God’s Play happened because I went to school. That’s the simple part that would’ve been staggeringly difficult if I was born in a different time or even a different place. A good, basic education in writing coherently is something valuable, and I really did learn most of what I needed to write when I was young (start humming The Killers here). I learned how to grammar and (kind of) spell. I read a lot, so I learned some little tricks they don’t teach in 7th grade English. (I had a very good 7th grade English teacher, so I learned plenty there, too.) The greatest leap in my writing style came fairly recently, though, after taking style, rhetoric, and editing classes. Thinking like an editor helped me organize what I was writing and kept me on track during early drafts. Then, there’s this mysterious business of publishing. The Age of the Internet is upon us, and that makes finding just about anything you want to know possible. There are a lot of writers online, and if you’re reading this, you might be a writer, too. There’s nothing particularly anomalous about how God’s Play got published. I wasn’t taping rejection letters to my wall (most agents and publishers only accept emails anyway), and I didn’t come anywhere close to making this list. I did keep an excel spread sheet of everyone I’d ever sent a query to with some basic contact info and what I’d sent them; this simple system carried over for full requests as well. This is the ‘one page outline’ of organization strategies, both of which were essential to getting God’s Play written and published. That’s right: the internet, a typing program, a non-embarrassing email address, one front and back page of notebook paper, and an excel spreadsheet. That’s what you minimally need to write and submit a book. Check your ego. I did leave one thing out of my ingredients list: other people! That’s because the other people involved in getting a book to publication can be anywhere from one to legions (if you count people funding Kickstarter projects). The standard Starter Pack usually includes some combination of beta readers, critique partners, agent, editor(s), cover artist, and marketer(s)/publicist(s). These people were vital in getting this book published, and I’m appreciative of everything they’ve done for me. But there were times when I did not want to hear (or mostly read) what they were saying. I love God’s Play—the story, the characters, it is mine. Mine, I tell you! But parts of it also belong to the people who helped me write this book, and this never would’ve happened if I didn’t have these people in my corner. So I sacked up and made revisions; deadlines weren’t phantoms haunting me from my Ethernet cables. Ego wants to make you feel good all the time. It’s your own little cheerleader, but there are times when this book needed tough love, so ego got benched. Schedules and rituals can be your friend and your enemy. A lot of authors have writing rituals. A favorite coffee shop, a special desk, a magical jig, a lucky desk troll—you get the idea. I’m pretty ritual free, and that’s been a bit of a curse for me, especially during that nebulous time called ‘the weekend.’ I can just stay in bed all day! This is when I do go to aforementioned favorite coffee shop and do my magical jig (they haven’t kicked me out…yet). That said, I’ve often felt hamstringed by rituals. They’re for, like, adults and serious people. A story needs room to breathe. God’s Play started out under a different title; the story was supposed to be novella length. It was a radically different book, and about 40,000 words in, I knew it was going to be a different story than I’d originally thought. So there was rewriting and outlining…and then the story sat. For months. (That’s like writing negative words and losing NaNo.) Then, one a snowy weekend, I sat down and finished the book (35,000 words) in three days. Later drafts made it a bit longer, but that’s how the initial rough draft got completed. It was insane, but it worked for this novel—for me. So don’t get hung up on your 1,653 words a day—just write. Or don’t. You better be having a blast. I had a great time writing God’s Play. Seriously, divide 35,000 by 3. If you’re writing ~12,000 words a day, you’re hooked on something (writing and pomegranate green tea). I came back to God’s Play because I believed in this story—there was something about it that was intuitive, living in my subconscious. The ending was there, I just needed to take that leap and slot as much of the plot into place in the first draft as possible. That was fun. And thank god because editing can be tedious. I loved this story, but you better believe there were times I questioned whether I wanted to publish this book. That nifty excel spreadsheet started to feel like a wall of shame at some point, and I wondered how many revisions I’d need to do before this thing was ready or if it would ever truly be publishable. There’s a lot of self-doubt involved, and it’s only the memory of that hot-n-heavy passion I had with this story that kept me working. I couldn’t betray this book, so I kept working. And this part? This part is amazing. I found new energy for writing since I looked at the book cover for God’s Play. So keep on keeping on, and enjoy the book excerpt! Amazon US | Amazon UK | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Goodreads | Description:  Sixteen-year old Toby was trained by a family of hunters to kill shape-shifters — but he has a unique weapon in his arsenal. With a touch of his hand, Toby can lift the magical protection shape-shifters use to disguise themselves as human. It’s an unusual skill for a hunter, and he prefers to kill monsters the old-fashioned way: with a blade. Because of his special skill, Toby suspects he may be a monster himself. His suspicions deepen when William, a jackal-headed shape-shifter, saves him from an ambush where Toby’s the only survivor. And Toby doubts William helped him for purely altruistic reasons. With his list of allies running thin, Toby must reconcile his hatred of shifters and the damning truth that one saved his life. It’ll take both of them to track down the monster who ordered the ambush. And Toby needs his unlikely alley because he has a vicious enemy — the infamous Circe, who has a vendetta to settle against the hunters. Toby has to unravel the mystery of his dual nature. And he has to do it on the run — before Circe finds him and twists him to her own ends. –  About The Author: H.D. Lynn is like Harry Potter in one way: she’s currently renting an apartment with a bedroom under her building’s stairs. Other than this, she explores fantasy worlds through storytelling like anyone else. She loves books with a mix of humor, adventure, and horror, and especially enjoys the urban fantasy genre. GOD’S PLAY is her first published novel. When not writing, she enjoys hiking, climbing, and running. She’s a voracious reader, and has found listening to audiobooks while backpacking to be a perfect mix of two of her favorite things. She currently lives in Connecticut, but finds herself on the road often.  

Tuesday Tales – Short – Escaping Humanity

Welcome back to Tuesday Tales! This weeks prompt is to be inspired by the word Short. Since it went over so well last week, I’m returning to Escaping Humanity again.  This time we meet a few other characters. Again, I’ll have to try to shorthand it a little for you. Annie is a mutant that is dying of a mysterious illness. James (brother of Lynx/Elan from last week) is a clone that was created to be an always-angry super-soldier, the fiercest fighter…but his mother Talisa (who built him) made sure he was damn brilliant too.  He’s confused by the fact that he cares for Annie…but when he kissed her, she collapsed from her illness. Chance is the Lenape tribe chief, Talisa’s & Roark’s best friend. Charlotte is also James’s sister (and Lynx’s twin…they have a twin connection where one can sense the other…). Clear as mud? Well, good…here you go, throwing you to the wolves Oh, and I turned Short into Shorty…b/c that’s a nickname in the story Charlotte rushed into the room right as James laid Annie on the bed. “What happened? Where was she?” “She went to see the sunset.” James didn’t bother to hide the snarl that had returned to his voice. He was angry that she’d had another attack so fast. More so that she actually thought she was less of a person. And the pinnacle of his anger lay with the bastard that had done this and so much more. “I’m going to rip that son of a bitch into tiny little pieces.” “Stand in line,” Charlotte muttered. In quick succession she hooked the monitors back up. The IV was replaced, and she added new medicine. “Her pulse is weak and thread. At this point I don’t feel safe taking another sample, but I think it’s safe to say she’s deteriorating further.” “Maybe Elan was stupid, but then again maybe she was the smartest one here. We need Mom. You sure as hell can’t think outside the box like she can.” “Stop it James. Stop taking your confusion out on me. You care about Annie. You want her better. I get it. Just admit it so we can move on and fix her.” James stopped mid-pace, a low growl in his chest. There were many things he was capable of, many horrible, cruel things. Caring was not one of them. “Nice try, shorty. I don’t care. I’m a not-so-natural born killer, remember?” “Blah blah blah.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. After checking the monitors and making notes in the chart she stepped away from the bed. “Go ahead and sit with her. I know you want to. I’ll get back to work on trying to think outside the box.” “What happened?” Warren raced into the room ahead of everyone else. “Is she okay? Damn it. I thought she was up, she was doing better.” James couldn’t stop the growl that shot through him. “She’s dying. She thinks her parents don’t trust her, and there is no hope for her. Yeah. She’s stellar.” “Easy James.” Chance walked in behind Abby. “Charlotte? What’s the word?” Charlotte didn’t respond. When James glared toward her silence, he realized she’d paled so much, she looked like a white woman instead of the native she was. Whatever her distraction, he couldn’t be bothered with it. “Shorty!” James snapped his fingers in front of her face. “What the hell is up with people anymore? They can’t focus long enough to actually help someone. Since Char is out of commission and can’t be bothered to think outside the box, I guess I’ll go back to the stupid lab.” “James.” Chance didn’t have to speak loud to put the power of his role behind his words. When James was smart enough to keep his lip shut, Chance turned to Charlotte. “Is everything okay in there?” Charlotte’s head shook violently and she took several steps backward. “Lynx.” She said nothing else, just stared off toward the west. “Great. Lynx’s thoughtlessness is making Char useless as hell.” James snarled. Chance pointed to the door. “Hall. Now.” James didn’t have to be told twice. He barely made it to the hall before his fist connected with the metal wall with a resounding tone that half-deafened him. “As stupid as I think Elan is—at least she took action! Nobody else is doing a damn thing.” Chance showed no reaction to the outburst beyond a quirked brow. “That’s two broken hands today. At least yours will heal faster than Danny’s.” “Stop trying to be clever, you’re not mom.” James dug his fingers into his hair, ignoring the pain from his hand. “Sorry, Chief.” “Getting tired of apologizing to me yet?” “Yeah.” “Good. I’m damn tired of needing to hear it.” Chance’s hand landed on James’ shoulder with a firm grip. “I am your chief. I’ve always had faith that you could get past this wall you’ve deemed exists. You’re the one struggling with it.” “I know what I was programmed to be.” “Then why do you care about Annie? Why do you love your mother? Your father? Why do you protect your sister even when you’re being a jerk to her?” Chance sighed. “You’re as stubborn as your mother always was. She actually thought she didn’t know DNA once. It took Roark beating her over the head a few times for her to get the picture.” “Yeah. I’ve heard the story.” James sighed and turned to lean his back against the wall. “About a million times. Doesn’t mean I’m not what I was created to be.” “You were created to be a strong center for your family—to be everything your mother imagined her children to be. Do you really think Talisa would ever do anything exactly as ordered? That anyone, even Steele, could bully her into making you nothing more than a killing machine with no real heart?” “Mom never did anything as ordered, she hates being ordered around.” James glanced up when the door opened. When Charlotte emerged, her skin almost green, he frowned. “Char. What is it?” “I’m not sure.” Charlotte’s blue eyes were still wide. “Can you handle the lab for a little while? I think I’m going to be sick.” “Charlotte?” Chance wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple. “Anything I can help you with?” “I’ll be okay. Lynx isn’t blocking as well as usual, or I’m not. I don’t know.” She gave Chance a strong hug. “I’m okay, Popsicle, I promise. It’s been a crazy couple of days and I think I just need to get my head on straight again.” “You aren’t the only one.” Chance smiled. “Go take some time and get your head together. You can’t work twenty-four-seven. Not even Tal can do that. Then you can come back refreshed and ready to work.” Before she took off, Char barreled into James. He grunted, but held her close in a hug. “Easy Shorty.” “Let yourself care before you explode.” James sighed. That was the problem, wasn’t it? He couldn’t. The girl had kissed him, and then proceeded to collapse. She was going to die, so what good would caring do?” He kissed the top of Charlottes head. “Go on, Shorty. I’ve got work to do.” He pushed her off him and then down the corridor. Chance smirked. “If she was feeling better she might have smacked you harder. She wants you to be happy, James.” “Well maybe if someone came up with a way to save that girl so Abby and Warren could live without suffering like the rest of us.” “If you want to claim it’s for Abby and Warren, fine. Just keep something in mind, James.” “What?” “Your demeanor changes around Annie.” Chance met his gaze levelly. “Just think about that while you’re working on her. It’s not a bad thing to care. I promise.” “We’ll see.” *~* Hope you enjoyed it!  Click on the Tuesday Tales badge to see more excellent entries!! *~*

Sunday Snippets 51 – Masked Hearts

Welcome back to the Weekend Writing Warriors! I’m back with my travelling wild west show story, Masked Hearts. I’m jumping ahead a ways because I will be moving on from Masked Hearts soon. Roy and Minnie have grown closer, and Minnie has even allowed herself to get to know the Cheyenne. The more she lets go of her past, the more it returns to haunt her. Knowing what Rawlins has in store for her, she has asked Roy for one kindness before she’s sold to a whorehouse. Before Roy lets himself sleep with her, he has a confession to make about his unintentional (and forced) role in her, and his own, past. Minnie is shocked at first, but then: “I don’t hate you. I have tried to blame you, but I cannot. You were no more an adult than I was. You can’t help what they did to you.” “But you were right. I am why your family…” She pressed her fingers to his lips, “The Army is why my family is gone. You didn’t kill my father, my brothers, or rape my mother.”   *Tiny bit of creative editing was used to get the 8 *~* If you want more of these wonderfully damaged pair…pick up a copy! | Amazon | SCP | BN | ARe |  Minnie Woodward lives a lie. After barely surviving the Bear River Massacre she’s lived in the white world of her guardian Mister Rawlins, her life debt keeping her tied there. The last thing she needs is Roy’s attempts to gain her favor. Her fate’s sealed. She’s never believed in hope, and not even Roy can make her start. Roy Ornum saves Minnie every night in the traveling Wild West show. The job he took to break his gambling habit brought him a new addiction – her. He knows she doesn’t want to be rescued, but maybe he does. She’s the key to a past he lost, one he wants to find again. As the two grow closer old wounds are reopened and their burgeoning trust is shattered. When lives hang in the balance of their choices they’ll need to work together. Otherwise everything will be lost before hope can be found. *~* Head back on over to the Weekend Writing Warriors to read many more wonderful offerings!

The Atlantean Birthright by Toya Richardson

Enter to Win $10.00 Amazon Gift Card Freya Anders is ready to kill Dieter Yong and nothing is going to stop her, because ten years ago he callously murdered her parents. She is immortal; a descendant from Atlantis with precious gifts. It was her powers the Atlanteans were after that fateful night. Allowing her grief and rage to consume her, she falls into a trap set by Dieter. When sexy, charismatic, Armand De Silva comes to her rescue, she is livid. Is her fury because Dieter survived, or because of the way she’s drawn to this stunning Atlantean? When their slow burning desire for each other reaches boiling point, they must decide whether they have the strength to deal with their emotions and trust again. As Dieter launches his plan for revenge, can Freya find the courage to rescue Armand from certain death? a Rafflecopter giveaway Although writing has been a big part of life for many years, it’s since 2009 that I’ve completed most of my work. Starting off with a romance/thriller, then fantasy and my most recent work, which is paranormal romance. I grew up in Essex, but now reside in Suffolk – with my husband, grown up son and Masai the cat – where I work part time as an admin assistant. My other hobbies and interests include; reading, Formula One racing, darts, listening to music – mainly rock – cinema, live concerts, going to the theatre, keeping fit, gardening and holidays. WEBSITE  |  TWITTER  |  GOODREADS