Linda Joyce's Blog, page 3
October 1, 2015
Purse Dump Time!
It’s Project Purse Dump. Please meet Gemma!
Hiya, hiya, hiya! I’m Gemma Brocato and I’m here to reveal the cluttered contents of my purse (or pocketbook as my Nona used to call
it). Please don’t take the contents of my purse to be a sign that my mind is equally cluttered. You might however agree that my purse
shelf is a bit of a mess. I have more handbags than I use. But honestly, I might need that little yellow bag, or the beautiful red one at
some point in the future. I can’t bear to part with them.
Here’s a list of what I dug out from the bottom of my bag (I tossed the used tissues, straw papers, candy wrappers and old receipts before I took the picture).
A – I carry six types of lip stuff. I don’t use five of them. But one item I use frequently from this grouping is the blue tube of Friction Block. My love for this product surpasses even the Magic Eraser. This miracle substance keeps blisters away from my toes when I wear those toe-pinching, heel-rubbing high heels I love. Find this one in the aisle with other bandage products. Trust me – you want this in your bag.
B – My wallet. It may not look it, but that thing is at least 20 years old. It fits well in the smaller purses that I carry but isn’t too small to get lost in my oversized bags.
C – Sunscreen with SPF 30. I am so pasty white that I never chance getting caught in the sunlight without it. I might burn up like Luke Evans in Dracula Untold.
D – My business card holder. True story, the TSA does not like it when this goes through their airport screener. My purse is searched almost every time. For them I leave the used tissues in it. Ooh – I’m not so nice afterall.
E – My sunglasses and Sylvia Day pouch from RWA 2014. I fangirled all over that lady in San Antonio. And held my head up after. My eyes are blue-green and glare bothers me, so I go nowhere without my sunglasses (PSA here – save your eyes from macular degeneration – wear sunglasses whenever you are outside).
F – An expired postcard for a discount at Designer Show Warehouse. I keep those bad boys way past their expiration dates. I can’t explain it.
G – Author SWAG. Never leave home without it.
H – Mints. No explanation necessary. But I should say, this brand is now my dad’s favorite.
I – A contact lens case. Don’t know why I carry this because I don’t generally have solution or even my glasses. I guess it just makes me feel more prepared to have it.
J – A traveling pill box because I always carry pain reliever, allergy medication and acid reducer. I do not like to feel icky and this little item has saved my life on many occasions. The lives of many of my friends as well, since they know I’m always packing. Another item the TSA doesn’t approve of.
K – A travel sized, folding hairbrush. I received this in an Estee Lauder Gift With Purchase 20 years ago. What can I say…when I like something, I keep it.
L – A spare USB drive. Hey- my life’s work is backed up on this scrap of plastic.
M – Car keys with the entry fob for the gym I very rarely attend. Honestly, I typically only go when I need to catch up on my reading. I hop on a treadmill and go to town.
N – A key chain with all the other fobs and loyalty tags I’ve amassed over the years.
O – My pad of dreams. No more notes on napkins, or receipts (remember, I cleared those all out). I’m high class all the way. I also carry lots of pens.
P – Bandaids, for those times when I’m careless and injure myself (or I put my friction block on too late and don’t stop the blisters). Again, my friends know I have these and will always ask if they need it.
Q – Another Estee Gift with purchase. This one is like my own little tool kit. I have super glue, Velcro, dental floss, a nail file, and anti-itch cream.
I know, I know. I carry the mommy bag. In spite of the fact that my children are grown-ups, the contents of my purse ensure I’m still prepared for whatever emergency arises.
About Gemma Brocato
Gemma Brocato was born with a book in her hands, and learned to read shortly after. She was able to read in a moving car without getting motion sickness, a fact she’s proud to share. After spending too many years making financial products and advisors sound sexy, she quit her full-time job to focus her efforts on contemporary romance novels. As a hybrid author, she has several indie titles as well as traditionally published work, with plans to add four more titles this year to her growing list of books.
Keep In Touch: Here are my links to keep in touch with me.
https://www.facebook.com/gemma.brocato
https://twitter.com/GemmaBrocato
https://instagram.com/gemma_brocato/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7229886.Gemma_Brocato
https://plus.google.com/+GemmaBrocato/posts
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September 25, 2015
Project Purse Dump, September 25th 2015
It’s time for the next participant in Project Purse Dump. Please meet Jessica Cale:
Twenty-two lipsticks. Eleven bottlecaps. Seven black pens. Five magnets. Three tins of Altoids. Hello Kitty bandaids. A Mucha compact mirror from Paris, and a coin from House on the Rock.
These are a few of things I found this week when I emptied my purse out onto the floor.
In my defense, it is a very large purse. I have a few you might call “sensible” purses, brightly colored leather with understated embellishments and clever pockets, but the one I keep returning to is an oversized, flimsy thing I got at World Market for I think $8. It’s grey and it has crows on it. Size aside, it’s fairly nondescript, and goes well with my worn out jeans and band t-shirt aesthetic, plus I can fit half a library (and a hoodie!) into it should the occasion call for it. All of the things you see here were in it on a day that it was fairly empty, apart from my cat there, but he could have fit into it, too.
So what’s inside? It’s a kind of survival kit, plus a few extra bits and pieces I picked up along the way. Let’s take a closer look.
The essentials:
Seven black pens and two packs of post-its: I usually also carry a notebook full of graph paper with me for story ideas, but post-its and pens will do in a pinch. If I get story ideas–anything from bits of dialogue to major plot points–I write them on post its and stick them to the cards in my coin purse if I don’t have a notebook handy. Apparently I can also write notes on my phone, but this still feels too futuristic for me most days, and I usually forget.
Makeup: I don’t intentionally have twenty-two lipsticks on me at all times, it’s just that they gather in my purse. I don’t have any anywhere else in my house. I have them in my purse, in the coin purse inside, and more inside the Union Jack makeup bag. This makeup bag also contains hair pins, more ponytail holders than I have anywhere else, two eyeliners (one black, one purple), face powder, blush, mascara, orange scented roll on perfume, and a souvenir Mucha makeup mirror I got in Paris ten years ago. Because you never. fucking. know. Some days you just need eyeliner, and lots of it. I once loaned one of my friends a fire engine red Stila lipstick to write down her number for a random guy, and a couple years later, loaned the same lipstick to another friend when he was hosting punk rock karaoke as a kinky sailor. Who wore it better? My vote’s on Dave.
Coin purse: I haven’t carried a wallet in many years. In Britain, coins are far more common than paper bills, so carrying a coin purse was far more practical. I’ve been back in the states for a couple of years now, but I still carry the same coin purse I bought at New Look for a pound almost ten years ago. Today it’s full of all of my cards, some random change, a spare set of earbuds, post-its covered in story ideas, a customs declaration, a list of Edith Piaf songs (really), a guitar pick, some fortunes from cookies (“Don’t put off till tomorrow what can be enjoyed today…” in bed (snicker), hair pins, and more lipstick. Could you fit all of that into a wallet? Didn’t think so.
A coin from The House on Rock: How else will I make the crazy music play?
Randoms:
Bottlecaps and magnets: Okay, there’s a reason for this, I promise. My friend Lily gave these to me a couple of weeks ago so I could make some bottlecap magnets for my fridge. She made some and they look awesome, so I’m going to give it a shot.
Three tins of altoids: Why have three when one should be curiously strong enough? None of these are actually mine. My husband keeps buying them and asking me to hold them, so I put them in my purse. He forgets they’re there and buys more, asks me to hold them, and voila. Three tins. Can I offer you a mint?
Not pictured: The phone I use to obsessively ignore my email and ogle pictures of macaroons on Instagram, my work badge, and my keys.
This might seem like a lot, but if you need to be minty or photo-ready, I’ve got your back. You know, just in case.
Bio: Jessica Cale is a recovering journalist writing historical romances out of a grey bedroom in North Carolina. Originally from Minnesota, she lived in Wales for several years where she earned a BA in History and an MFA in Creative Writing while climbing castles and photographing mines for history magazines. She kidnapped (“married”) her very own British prince (close enough) and is enjoying her happily ever after with him in a place where no one understands his accent. You can visit her at www.authorjessicacale.com.
You can find her here:
Website: http://www.authorjessicacale.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorjessicacale
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JessicaCale @JessicaCale
Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+JessicaCaleWrites
Tumblr: http://authorjessicacale.tumblr.com/
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/rainbowcarnage
Instagram: skittles_and_smut
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Jessica-Cale/e/B00PVDV9EW/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9819997.Jessica_Cale
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September 22, 2015
The art of enduring a secret: Bayou Born
The journey of writing has been filled with twists and turns, some of them being the kind of thing I would prefer only happen in stories.
But here we are.
I have a good twist to share with you. The Wild Rose Press originally published Bayou Born, Book One of the Fleur de Lis series in 2013. This year, Amazon Encore bought the title from them. Today, is the official relaunch of the book, new ASIN and everything!
Please join me in celebrating the journey this book as taken. First seeing the light of day, to making it as a 2014 RONE Award Finalist, to being part of the Amazon Encore family.
In Bayou Born, you’ll meet Branna Lind and James Newbern in fictional Lakeview. There is a canine character, General Beauregard, who is very real. He is one of the three dogs in my family. He is very much a general—takes charge and full steam ahead.
But his tenacity is no match for Branna Lind’s. She’d hiding a secret that on one knows…except her sister.
I hope you’ll enjoy the story of Branna and James:
Branna Lind’s self-esteem rests at the bottom of the Mississippi River. She’s canceled her “wedding of the decade” and refuses to say why. She wants life on her own terms—no ready-made job in the family business, no safety net of close-knit kin, and no more betrayal. Men are purely optional.
College professor James Newbern prizes his bachelorhood. He knows beautiful women are high-maintenance trouble, and Branna fits that “type.” He is happy to avoid her until the college vice president assigns him to mentor the newest hire—Branna.
Branna is on her way to a new life, but will the scars of the past send her running from love? Even if she faces the truth, will she ever convince James she truly is his “type”?
#southerncharm #smalltown #contemporary #romance
I loves hearing from readers. Please connect with her on
Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/LindaJoyceAuthor
Twitter @LJWriter https://twitter.com/LJWriter
Author Page http://www.amazon.com/Linda-Joyce/e/B00BODDROS/
Get your copy here: http://amzn.com/B0153Q7NX2
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September 18, 2015
Project Purse Dump: September 18, 2015
I’m participating in Project Purse Dump. It will be exciting to see who shows up and what the contents of their purse reveals about them.
The woman leading off this endeavor is Tracey Gee. I hope you’ll enjoy her wit and humor.
Heeerrreee’s Tracey!
I’m so meta. You can see, in the background, this blog posting as it’s being written
Welcome to Week 1 of Project Purse Dump. I get to go first only so I can give the other wonderful people who’ve signed up a chance to get their blogs ready. Mine will be the dullest purse, I’m sure.
First of all, I don’t carry a purse. That alone is a blog post (not really, that would be cruel). I’m a backpack kinda gal and have been for about 30 years. I have come to the following two conclusions about this:
It’s better for my body.
I’m a Libra and hate to be unbalanced.
And here’s my stash, once more, with feeling:
Here’s the tale of the tape, minus the tape.
The two most essential drugs/supplements in my life, after Xylometazoline: Acetaminophen and Lactaid®. They go with me, everywhere.
I live in Canada. And like most Canucks, I have a dizzying array of Tim Cards. Neither of these has any money on it. Bummer.
Boring. My wallet and coin purse.
Double-boring. My water bottle. You never know when you’ll be stranded and need water. One day, I’ll blog about my struggle (mostly over now, phew) with OCD. Not fake OCD, the real deal.
My blood donor reminder card. I went last week. Yay! Cookies!
Ok, now we have a story. This is my ultra-cool Swiss Army knife. I’ve carried one forever. The best thing about this one (my second in 30+ years, first one was stolen)? I was in Genève once a long long time ago and got locked in a public toilet. For years I wondered what on earth would I ever do with a fish scaler. Seriously? Me? I’m at two with Nature.
Then I went to Genève. Things to know about many parts of Europe? Pay toilets. Things to know about this particular pay toilet in Genève?
If you catch the door before it closes and you haven’t put any coins in (I didn’t have any, I wasn’t being cheap, just desperate), you will be LOCKED IN THE TOILET.
A lot of the public toilets are floor-to-ceiling walls for the cubicles. That means, they aren’t really cubicles. They’re tiny rooms.
There is a drug problem in some parts of Europe and in some public toilets (even in really nice places), they use black light so those wanting to find a vein can’t do so.
So you get the idea: I was locked in a very dark tiny room in Switzerland. And I have a train to catch (once I find the train station) because I’m heading to Italy (the food’s better).
Oh, did I mention I’m claustrophobic?
And did I mention there is little-to-no sympathy for North Americans travelling in Europe without change for the toilet? That’s just an aside.
In panic, I rifled through my knapsack and dug up my Swiss Army knife and tried a few things before hitting the fish scaler and voila! I was in Milan later that same day eating farfalle al funghi, the morning just a bad memory.
My teeny phone. I live on my teeny phone. Mummy loves her teeny phone. It’s an HTC Desire C and I have three of them. No. Really. All I need: email, WhatsApp, and Instagram. It possibly works as a phone, too.
A watch. Yes. It’s true. I wear a watch. I hate having to look at my phone for the time because I don’t want to look like one of those people who owns 3 HTC Desire C phones.
My comb. Just in case I get a moment to actually comb my hair. That happened in 2014, and I look forward to it happening again this fiscal.
What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t have my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle gel pen?
Don’t laugh. It’s the schedule for the Y by my house. I circle classes on it (which I never attend).
My only cosmetic: lip balm. That’s it.
My key chain. See that carabiner clip? I hang my keys on my bra strap. It’s the only way I can find my keys. I never keep them in my purse except when I’m NOT out. That spine on my key chain? That from my evil chiropractor. It’s a great ice breaker.
My teeny tiny travel New Testament, Psalms, and Proverbs. Because you never know when you need a quiet moment with God.
About Tracey Gee
Bright light! Bright light! (Sure, you saw Gremlins, didn’t you?)
I’m a crabby old bat. Easily distracted. Portly, perimenopausal, whiffy yet whimsical. I keep the BFG 9000 in my girdle. In my spare time, I eat stress. Lots of it.
I’m the O/O of LOVExtra.com, my newest binary baby who’s about to turn one, this November. My personal blog is the aptly named Old Enough and Ugly Enough. J
I’m trying desperately to write a book which is worthy of a publisher’s notice. In the absence of that, I play piano and classical guitar—badly—and go to Zumba. My own true love.
I eschew malls.
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September 17, 2015
THE REMITTANCE MAN: SCOUNDREL, SNOB OR PIONEER?
Please meet author Andrea Downing, a fellow Wild Rose Press author. She’s sharing some very interesting tidbits about the background history of her book, LOVELAND
Genre: western historical romance
Blurb: When Lady Alexandra Calthorpe returns to the Loveland, Colorado, ranch owned by her father, the Duke, she has little idea of how the experience will alter her future. Headstrong and willful, Alex tries to overcome a disastrous marriage in England and be free of the strictures of Victorian society –and become independent of men. That is, until Jesse Makepeace saunters back into her life…
Hot-tempered and hot-blooded cowpuncher Jesse Makepeace can’t seem to accept that the child he once knew is now the ravishing yet determined woman before him. Fighting rustlers proves a whole lot easier than fighting Alex when he’s got to keep more than his temper under control.
Arguments abound as Alex pursues her career as an artist and Jesse faces the prejudice of the English social order. The question is, will Loveland live up to its name?
Andrea: The so-called ‘remittance man’—a man sent from Britain with a family allowance, or remittance, to seek his fortune in the 1880s wilds of the American West—seems to have been inspiring writers ever since the west became the favored destination for pioneer adventurers and scoundrels alike. From Robert Service’s 1907 poem, ‘The Rhyme of the Remittance Man,’ through references in Mark Twain’s writing and a 1995 song by Jimmy Buffett, the lives of remittance men have captured the American imagination in ways that were more often pejorative than complimentary, and frequently inventive rather than truthful.
To Americans, born of a democratic nature that esteemed free enterprise, the concept of a grown man being even partially supported by a father or brother could only reflect harshly on the man’s character. Surely he must be a black sheep, sent to the United States due to a scandal or some embarrassing behavior such as gambling debts back home. Yet the truth was that having some allowance, from a father or older titled brother, was the norm for most of these men, who still sought to make their own money.
American fathers of wealth viewed their offspring equally and generally divided their estate between them, assuming that each individual would then go forth and hopefully multiply that wealth. However, with the British, primogeniture ruled the aristocracy. Money was entailed on the estate, which in turn belonged to the title and he who inherited it: the oldest living male relative in direct descent. The feeling was that to divide the money would dissipate the inheritance and leave the estate, often very grand stately homes or castles, without the funds to keep them going.
Furthermore, while work was the American ethic, it was far from the British aristocrat’s consciousness to dirty one’s hands with employment other than overseeing the estate. Even for second sons or spare heirs, the idea of doing anything relative to the merchant class was repugnant. There were three areas of profession where a gentleman might safely provide for himself while remaining in Britain: the church, the armed forces, or government. None of them provided well, and not all of them were to every man’s liking.
In my own book, Loveland, the uncle of my heroine is a remittance man and, while he is something of a scoundrel, his reasons for being so made him fairly typical of the remittance men who came to the west. One must remember that even second sons had been brought up in the same manner as the heir apparent, in the same sumptuous homes with the same numerous servants to cater to their every need, the same plentiful food and other luxuries of the day. Then, suddenly, when they reached their majority, the second sons were cast out to make their own way in the world. Obviously, trouble brewed. Jealousies ensued. Gambling debts mounted.
The men who came west, like my character Oliver Calthorpe, often came to manage the large cattle companies being formed by contingents of aristocrats. They were granted stock in the company for their trouble, and had salaries in addition to their remittance from their father or older brother. They could live like gentlemen, but their expectations of how they would live often, unfortunately, exceeded their incomes.
Homes were built that were frequently exorbitant in cost and bore no relation to their surroundings. One such residence built on the Big Sioux River had fifteen rooms, a six-foot wide staircase, a library and central hall with huge fireplace of imported tiles. While local Americans might be living in log cabins or simple wood homes with few conveniences, windmill pumps for water or wells were dug for the British who also had attic-mounted tanks for their running water. Telephones were installed, walls were papered and carved wooden stairways were highlighted by chandeliers. One family arrived in 1880s Iowa with no less than 81 trunks! Servants were frequently imported or accompanied men with families, though more often than not the turnover was great. Once the nannies, cooks and maids became known on the local, American marriage market in areas where females were scarce, it was sooner rather than later that they were homesteading with their own families to look after.
For most remittance men, however, the idea was definitely not to stay in America. Most sought to make their money within five years or so and return home to marry and set up home on the wealth accrued in the west. Others moved on to British colonies like South Africa or India. And for yet others, like my Oliver Calthorpe, the end of their American adventure might have been more violent, more final. But for some lucky few, the vagaries of life and death might have meant that they now inherited the estate and could call some other relative a remittance man.
Here’s an excerpt from LOVELAND ~~~
The light was failing and the birds were settling with their evening calls. Somewhere in the pasture a horse nickered. She sensed Jesse was there, watching, but she never turned as he stood at the fence. She heard him climb over and ease up behind her. He took the coiled rope from her in his left hand and slid his right hand over hers on the swing end, almost forcing her backward into his arms.
She thought of paintings and statues she had seen, imagining his naked arms now, how the muscles would form them into long oblique curves, how he probably had soft downy fair hair on his forearms, how his muscle would slightly bulge as he bent his arm. His voice was soft in her ear, and she could feel his breath on her neck like a whispered secret.
“Gentle-like, right to left, right to left to widen the noose, keep your eye on the post—are you watchin’ where we’re goin’?”
He made the throw and pulled in the rope to tighten the noose. Alex stood there, his hand still entwined with hers and, for a moment, she wished they could stand like that forever. Then she took her hand away and faced him. For a second he rested his chin on the top of her head, then straightened again and went to get the noose off the post while coiling in the rope. She looked up at him in the fading light and saw nothing but kindness in his face, simplicity and gentleness that was most inviting. A smile spread across her face as he handed her the coiled rope and sauntered away, turning once to look back at her before he opened the gate. Emptiness filled her like a poisoned vapor seeking every corner of her being, and she stood with the rope in her hand listening to the ring of his spurs as his footsteps retreated.
Please take a peek behind-the-scenes into Andrea’s life:
Bio: Born in New York, Andrea Downing returned in 2008 from the UK where she lived for most of her life. Having traveled extensively throughout Europe, Africa and Latin America, she now divides her time between NYC and the east end of Long Is., punctuated by frequent journeys out west—the area of the USA she loves best. Her first book, Loveland, was a finalist for the 2012 RONE Award for Best American Historical and is soon to be re-released by Amazon Encore. Her 2013 short story, Lawless Love, was also a finalist for the RONE Award as well as the International Digital Awards. Dearest Darling, a novella, part of The Wild Rose Press Love Letters series, won ‘Favorite Hero’ along with Honorable Mentions for Favorite Heroine, Short Story and Novel in the Maple Leaf Awards. It has also won The Golden Quill Award for Best Novella. Dances of the Heart, another full length novel, came out February, 2015. You can find her at http://andreadowning.com
Ways to connect with Andrea:
Links to social media/website/etc.:
WEBSITE AND BLOG: http://andreadowning.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/writerAndreaDowning
Twitter: @andidowning https://twitter.com/AndiDowning
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6446229.Andrea_Downing
Linkedin: http://www.linkedin.com/profile/view?id=124888740&trk=nav_responsive_tab_profile_pic
AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE: http://www.amazon.com/Andrea-Downing/e/B008MQ0NXS/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
Buy Links for LOVELAND:
Amazon: (print) http://amzn.com/1612173233
Amazon eBook: http://amzn.com/B014RUQ746
The Wild Rose Press: http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=191&products_id=4959
Review snippets:
“Andrea Downing has crafted a masterpiece with Loveland. Her fast-paced romantic western keep readers wondering how the story can ever be resolved…Downing is a strong writer who has written a worthy premiere novel. She handles romantic scenes with flair while showing the nitty-gritty of ranch life in the 1880s. Loveland is packed with action and emotion, leaving the reader wanting more. Loveland is one of those books I hated to have end. A hands-down five-star novel.” ~ Mary E. Trimble, Captivating Stories from the American West to West Africa
“…Great storytelling! Even though the happy ending is a given, the journey was much more satisfying because of the snappy dialogue, the pivotal plotting, and the realistic progression of Alex and Jesse’s emotional connection. I’m happy to give this book Five Stars! ~ Lynda Coker, Between the Pages
“Andrea Downing does a very good job of depicting the hard life on a ranch in the late 1800´s as well as the struggles of a high-society woman to gain independence. I like the authors descriptive style and the pace throughout the book is very high, with one dramatic event after the other unfolding…The author does a good job in adding a lot of interesting historical detail and a fun group of supporting characters to give this classic romantic story more depth. I would recommend Loveland for lovers of romance and historical fiction enthusiasts.” ~Daniella, The TBR Pile
Please celebrate this book with Andrea and pick up your copy now.
Happy Reading!
Linda Joyce
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September 1, 2015
A single mother, a scarred man, and a Common Enemy
I’m pleased to introduce author Sandra Dailey and her book Common Enemy, published by The Wild Rose Press. Common Enemy is Romantic Suspense. It’s in the Spicy, yet PG-13 category.
Common Enemy ~ A single mother, a scarred man, and a Common Enemy
Here’s the back cover preview: ~ Jordan Holbrook is the single mother of a five-year-old daughter. She’s just inherited her grandmother’s house in South Florida where she’s hiding from an abusive ex-husband who’s been released from prison early. A new man in her life isn’t part of her plans.
Connor McCrae is a handyman who lives out of his van. He walked away from a privileged life and loving family after being badly scarred in a vicious attack. He doesn’t believe a woman’s love is in the cards for him.
They are brought together by a rundown house, a mutual attraction, and a common enemy: Bobby Ray Butler, who is cutting a path of murder and mayhem through south Florida in his quest for vengeance against his ex-wife.
Can Connor protect Jordan and her daughter from the enraged Bobby Ray? Can Jordan learn to trust men again? If anyone has a say in this—it’s Connor.
Don’t stop there! Read on to learn more about this wonderful novel:
Excerpt ~ “I’m sorry I scared you. Are you okay? I should have said something. I’m so sorry.” Connor helped her back to her feet.
Jordan stood for a moment catching her breath. Her heart was pounding like a jackhammer. Her hands braced against his chest. “Oh God, I can’t believe how stupid I am. I thought you were him. You scared me to death.”
“You see why I worry about you? You’re not prepared. You should be in the house with that damn alarm on.” He was clearly annoyed.
“Don’t you think I know what an idiot I am? I married that monster. I deserve what I get, but where does that leave Lizzy? I’m not saying you’re wrong. I just don’t know what to do about it. I can’t live like this for the rest of my life, not knowing when he’s going to show up, or what he’s going to do. I feel like I’m losing my mind. The last thing I need is you reminding me. What are you doing out here anyway?”
“I was just wandering around thinking,” he said more quietly. “There’s something I want to tell you. I want you to know that last night meant a lot to me. I had forgotten what it felt like to be that close to someone. There have been other women since…my divorce. But, it was just sex. You were so much more than that. I just wanted you to know. I wanted to say thank you for making me feel normal again.”
“You are normal. After last night, I can’t say you’re average. That would be a huge understatement. But there isn’t anything wrong with you. As I see it, you’re pretty awesome. You took me, a neurotic Amazon woman, and made me feel desirable. That’s what I call a miracle.”
“You are desirable. You are downright amazing. And you are not an idiot. You don’t deserve any of this. You deserve a man who can love and protect you from that psycho. For now, you’ll have to settle for me. Even if I do have to stay away from you, I intend to see you and Lizzy through this.” He ran a finger through a lock of hair that had escaped her braid and then held her hand as he led her back to the house. He lifted her fingers to his lips before he left her at the door.
Jordan watched him walk back to his van. She was fascinated by the way he moved. He seemed half man, half panther. All his sleek muscles moved in a graceful rhythm. He had been hers for one night. If she had known the effect that one night would have on her, she probably wouldn’t have done it. She didn’t regret it though. And, she would never forget it.
Buy Links ~
The Wild Rose Press: http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=195&products_id=5695
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/common-enemy-sandra-dailey/1119877036?ean=2940149812103
Here’s a peek into Sandra’s world:
Tag Line ~ Running away with my imagination
Bio ~ Sandra Dailey lives with her husband and mother in a small town in North Florida, far from the maddening crowds. Her children and grandchildren all live close and keep her ridiculously busy and active. Her passions are reading, writing, and crafts. Her addictions are coffee, chocolate, and football. Her aversions are cooking, housework and negative people. She loves to hear from fellow readers and writers, so get in touch.
COMMON ENEMY is her third published book. A sequel is coming soon.
Contact her online ~
Website/Blog: http://www.sandradailey.blogspot.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/sandradailey.author
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/sdaileyauthor
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/sandradailey
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6551048.Sandra_Dailey
Or send an email to: sandradailey.author@gmail.com
Don’t miss this read! Grab your copy now.
Happy Reading!
Linda Joyce
The post A single mother, a scarred man, and a Common Enemy appeared first on Linda Joyce.
August 20, 2015
Who is Ryan Ester? Ryan Revisited on SALE
RYAN REVISITED is the story of a young woman’s search for identity. For serenity. For the perfect landing spot for her aching heart.
For a limited of time only Ryan Revisited by Sam Davis is ONLY $.99! Get your copy Today
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00XYWS666
iBooks: http://apple.co/19NjwZb
Kobo: http://tinyurl.com/p78ghu7
Goodreads: http://tinyurl.com/ryan-revisited
Blurb:
When you don’t have any idea who you are, how do you decide who you want to be?
Who is Ryan Ester? The Southern-belle-in-training her estranged father wants her to be? The laid-back Montana girl she became after her parents’ divorce? Or someone she has to discover on her own?
When Ryan’s only shot at going to college is on her father’s dime, Ryan leaves Bluffs, Montana to return to the antebellum South she once called home. As if the move wasn’t hard enough, Ryan’s first love, who recently left her a broken-hearted mess, has a scholarship to none other than Ryan’s destination, the University of the South.
Ryan Ester may not know who she is, but she sure as heck knows who she doesn’t want to become. As she tries to navigate scandal, heartache, and the unbearable pressure to look and act perfect every waking second, she resents being pushed by everyone who wants to decide for her. For the sake of her own sanity and the hearts of those she cares most about, she will have to find a way to forge her own path.
Author’s Note: RYAN REVISITED is suitable for mature YA readers as it does not contain graphic sexual situations.
The post Who is Ryan Ester? Ryan Revisited on SALE appeared first on Linda Joyce.
August 18, 2015
Her Heart’s Desire is here!
Her Heart’s Desire.
Her Heart’s Desire
Setting is a feature of ALL of my books, from the Itchetucknee River in Florida, to the Pearl River dividing Louisiana and Mississippi, to the wilds of Wyoming. Her Heart’s Desire, Book One of the Sunflower Series is no different. It’s primarily set in eastern Kansas with forays into Kansas City.
This book is dedicated to ALL my Midwest friends.
And a special nod to special friends:
For a dozen years, I called Kansas home. Sunflowers. Corn. Cold winters. Blazing hot summers. Tornados. Endless cracks about the Wizard of Oz. And when I moved south again, I left behind wonderful Midwest friends. All of whom helped inspire this story. Especially, Karen LaRue, Amy Curtis, Mailan Le, Madelyn Genglebach, Diane Howard, Bobbie Martin, and Goldie Edwards. I cherish what you’ve given to me through your friendship.
Here’s an introduction:
Meet Amelia, aka Lia, a contemporary artist of Midwest fame and a struggling farmer. Named after the famed pilot Amelia Earhart, Lia’s grit and determination is as boundless as the skies her namesake conquered. She’s fighting her brother, the bank, and Mother Nature all the while hoping against hope that Lucas Dwyer, her brother’s best friend, might see her as a woman, rather than Craig’s little sister.
After Afghanistan, after the bank took his farm, Lucas is rebuilding his life and trying to do Craig a favor-keep guys away from Amelia in hopes that she’ll move back to the city. Only one problem—Lucas is in love with Lia.
Surrounded by the bounty of Kansas, will Lia and Lucas ever grow the love blooming between them?
You can pick up your copy here:
Amazon eBook http://amzn.com/B011LLKFXS
Amazon Paperback http://amzn.com/0996581103
To Celebrate the launch of Her Heart’s Desire, I’m giving away a Kindle. You could be a winner!Find out how to enter the giveaway at LETTERS from Linda http://eepurl.com/buRlo9
Here’s the link to enter the contest: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/032a9e5012/?
Happy Reading!
Linda Joyce
The post Her Heart’s Desire is here! appeared first on Linda Joyce.
August 17, 2015
New Release: Eros Element by Cecilia Dominic
A New Release coming your way from the always-clever Cecilia Dominic. Mark your calendars for August 25th!Eros Element ~ If love is the ivy, secrets are the poison.
Aether Psychics, Book 1
After enduring heartbreak at the hands of a dishonest woman, Edward Bailey lives according to scientific principles of structure and predictability. Just the thought of stepping outside his strict routine raises his anxiety.
Adding to his discomfort is Iris McTavish, who appears at his school’s faculty meeting in place of her world-famous archeologist father. Worse, the two of them are to pose as Grand Tourists while they search for an element that will help harness the power of aether.
Iris jumps at the opportunity to prove her worth as a scholar—and avoid an unwanted marriage proposal—while hiding the truth of her father’s whereabouts. If her secret gets out, the house of McTavish will fall into ruin.
Quite unexpectedly, Edward and Iris discover a growing attraction as their journey takes them to Paris and Rome, where betrayal, blackmail and outright theft threaten to destroy what could be a revolutionary discovery—and break their hearts.
Warning: Allergen alert! This book was produced in a facility that handles copious amounts of wine, tea and baked goods. May contain one or more of the following: a spirited heroine, a quirky hero, clever banter, interesting facts both made-up and historical, and lots of secrets. It is, however, gluten free.
Here’s tidbits about the author: Cecilia Dominic wrote her first story when she was two years old and has always had a much more interesting life inside her head than outside of it. She became a clinical psychologist because she’s fascinated by people and their stories, but she couldn’t stop writing fiction. The first draft of her dissertation, while not fiction, was still criticized by her major professor for being written in too entertaining a style. She made it through graduate school and got her PhD, started her own practice, and by day, she helps people cure their insomnia without using medication. By night, she blogs about wine and writes fiction she hopes will keep her readers turning the pages all night. Yes, she recognizes the conflict of interest between her two careers, so she writes and blogs under a pen name. She lives in Atlanta, Georgia with one husband and two cats, which, she’s been told, is a good number of each. She also enjoys putting her psychological expertise to good use helping other authors through her Characters on the Couch blog post series.
You can find her at:
Web page: www.ceciliadominic.com
Wine blog: www.randomoenophile.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/CeciliaDominicAuthor
Twitter: http://twitter.com/RandomOenophile
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5011217.Cecilia_Dominic
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/ceciliadominic/
Instagram: @randomoenophile
To buy her books, you can get them in trade paper and all ebook formats from Samhain Publishing: https://www.samhainpublishing.com/author/1740/cecilia-dominic
Cecilia’s books are also available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple, Sony, and anywhere else books are sold.
Eros Element Buy links:
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/eros-element-cecilia-dominic/1121969555?ean=9781619230002
Google Books: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Cecilia_Dominic_Eros_Element?id=hR51CQAAQBAJ
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/eros-element
Samhain Publishing: https://www.samhainpublishing.com/book/5545/eros-element
Here’s a sneak-peek From Chapter 2:
When they arrived in the large rectangular room, Edward first checked the windows, where the week before ivy had covered the panes on the outside and provided a sense of coziness. Now the sun shone in and threw harsh yellow squares on the floor.
“The ivy! Someone’s cut the ivy.” He dashed to the window and ran a finger over the smooth, warm glass.
“Open the window, will you?” Johann asked. “It’s beastly hot in here.”
“That’s because they’ve cut the shade away.” Edward pressed his hands to the panes, which almost seared his palms. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. Nothing important to me does.”
“On the contrary, I believe you’ll be excited to hear my proposition for you, Professor Bailey.” A voice boomed through the room and bounced off the hard surfaces.
Edward tried not to flinch—Dean Hartford had once called him a “sissy boy” when he’d observed Edward’s typical reaction to his sudden, loud entrances—and turned from the window. It always shocked him how such a big voice could come from such a small person as his dean, who stood at one and a half meters, and Edward suspected a good bit of that height was due to the slight lift in the dean’s shoes.
“Good morning, Dean Hartford,” Johann said and shook the dean’s hand. He looked like a blond giant next to the shorter man.
“Ah, Mister Bledsoe, I’m happy you could join us. The rest of our guests will be here momentarily, as should Miss Ellis with some tea.”
“Did you have the ivy cut back?” Edward asked. “It’s made the room too warm not to have it.”
“I didn’t, but I suspect Harry did. It’s tearing down your building, Professor. We’re taking advantage of the good summer weather to do repairs.”
Edward couldn’t help but shudder at the name of his chairman, Professor Harold Kluge. The man delighted in torturing him, or so it felt. It didn’t surprise Edward that his chair had been the author of tearing the ivy away from the windows and exposing everything in the room to the harsh light. Indeed, he wished he had some of the tinted lenses the Americans liked to wear.
Harold himself came through the door and was followed by a man Edward had never seen. Miss Ellis brought up the rear with a laden tea tray.
“Would you believe she was delayed because she was splitting sugar cubes?” Chairman Kluge asked the assembled with a scoff that poked Edward in the solar plexus. “Have you heard anything more ridiculous? I have instructed her that her job is too vital to waste time on such unimportant tasks.”
“I don’t mind,” Miss Ellis murmured and put the tray on the table. She shot Edward a frightened look that caused him to feel sorry for getting her in trouble. But she should have known better—he’d had already had his morning allotment of tea. Why would she split more sugar cubes?
“I think it’s a wonderful idea to make the sugar cubes smaller,” the strange man who had come in with Harry said in flat American tones. “Those last few sips of tea end up being ghastly because the regular-sized lumps don’t dissolve in time to evenly disperse their sweetening properties to the entire cup.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Edward said with a told you so look at Harry, who shrugged with his usual good humor.
“Ah, and here’s a smart young man,” the American said. “You must be Professor Edward Bailey, renowned aetherist.”
He held out his hand for Edward to shake. Edward took it reluctantly and studied his unwitting ally. He’d encountered few Americans due to their finances being tight from the economic results of their ongoing “Civil” War, and thus their travel limited. He didn’t understand what was so civil about it—beastly business, really. The man looked like a normal gentleman aside from that horrid accent. His dark suit was free of dust, and his graying hair neatly combed and beard trimmed.
Instead of releasing Edward’s hand, the American clasped his other one around it. “I am relieved to see you, Professor. I was led to think you may not come.”
Edward took his hand back from the man’s unrelenting grasp. “I am fortunate to have friends who look out for my best interest.” He looked at Johann sideways. “I think.”
“You are indeed a fortunate man.”
“Professor Bailey, this is Mister Parnaby Cobb,” Dean Hartford said. “He has an interesting proposition for us as soon as our final guest arrives. Perhaps we should take our seats?”
Edward would have preferred to be where he could see the ivy, but since it wasn’t there anymore, none of the seats seemed right. Finally, he took one beside Johann because it was farthest away from Chairman Kluge, who seemed to bask in the sunshine.
There goes my theory of him being a vampire. Edward took his watch from his pocket and glanced at the time: five past ten. Five more minutes, and I’m declaring this a waste of my time and getting back to work. I need to set up the aether chamber and tweak the calibrations so the pressure is higher to begin the process of refining it to—
The sound of scraping chairs brought Edward to the present, and he got his feet under him in time to rise along with the others in response to the appearance of two women.
“And who have we here?” Dean Hartford asked. “We didn’t order any files or food.”
The young woman in front held out a folded piece of paper. “I am Iris McTavish, Dean Hartford, and this is my assistant Sophie Smythe. You summoned me?”
“I requested the presence of Professor Irvin McTavish,” the dean told her. “I’m sorry, Miss McTavish, but there must have been some mistake. We’re in need of an archaeologist, not a secretary.”
“Professor McTavish is indisposed currently, as you know,” Miss McTavish, whom Edward found to have a frightening degree of calmness and poise, said. “He trained me, and so I am here in his stead.”
Edward wondered how she managed to keep her composure under the irritable scrutiny of the men in the room. Well, not of Johann, who looked at her like she was a piece of candy, or of Edward, who truth be told, enjoyed the dean’s surprise and consternation. Edward’s sense of vindication evaporated when Johann pulled out the chair beside Edward and indicated Iris should sit there. Miss Smythe took a seat at the edge of the room and pulled a small pad of paper and pencil out of her reticule.
Iris sat and folded her hands in front of her on the table. Edward noticed the dust smudges at the tips of her gloves.
“I understand this is a matter of some urgency?” she asked.
“Well, young lady, I can’t say this has anything to do with you,” Parnaby Cobb said. “The journey we’re talking about is going to be too rough for a woman. That’s why we wanted your pa.”
“Journey!” Edward stood. “I’m not here to discuss a journey. I have work to do this summer.”
“Hold on,” Johann said and put a hand on Edward’s shoulder, drawing him back to his seat. “Let’s hear what this is all about, and Professor Bailey and Miss McTavish can make their own decisions about their participation.”
“And you are…?” Cobb asked.
“Johann Bledsoe, a talented musician and artist,” Harry told him. “He is to give this project’s cover story its air of legitimacy.”
“And the project is…?” Edward thrummed his fingers on the table. He knew it was rude to do so, but he couldn’t help it. Sitting beside Miss McTavish made him remember things he had tried hard to forget and would have been able to keep shelved in the back closet of his mind if not for her calm, cool presence. The effort to prevent the memories from spilling out made him feel as if each of his cells was made of aether and insisted on vibrating with the kind of energy he was trying to harness through his experiments.
“The northern American states are running out of resources with this war,” Cobb told them. “And frankly, gentlemen, and ladies, we’re getting desperate.”
“What kind of resources?” Miss McTavish asked.
“Power-generating ones. Coal is getting more and more expensive as manufacturing takes off here and at home. Professor Bailey, you know as well as I that in spite of the excitement around its discovery, aether has yet to prove, well, useful.”
“It has a lot of potential, and we’re getting closer every day,” Edward said. “And I would make more progress if I didn’t have to sit in meetings about projects I have no desire to participate in.”
“And what about your funding, Professor?” Chairman Kluge asked. “Do you think the money for your little experiments grows on trees? Or in that ivy you’re so fond of?”
“Little experiments?” The rest of Kluge’s sentence processed through his brain. “And the University funds my research.”
“Well, that’s the problem, Professor,” Dean Hartford said. “The University is growing impatient. The administration had hoped to see a return on its investment in aetheric research by now.”
“Science takes time.”
“And money,” the dean told him. “And if there isn’t a breakthrough by the end of the summer, the Department of Aetherics is in danger of being dissolved. We may be able to find a position for you in the general sciences, but it’s not a guarantee, and the sole area with openings is the new Department of Geology.”
“Geology?” Edward cataloged his experiments in his mind with some desperation. Although he felt close to a breakthrough, it would take him at least until the end of the year, and he doubted his colleagues were any closer.
“There’s a chance to expedite your research,” Cobb said. “Legend has it that there’s an element to be found somewhere around the Mediterranean that can serve as a catalyst to turn aether into heat energy in a safe manner, which is what we need.”
“What kind of legend?” Miss McTavish asked. “And what are your sources?”
She startled Edward every time she spoke. His mind tried to ignore her in spite of her sitting beside him, but he couldn’t help but appreciate her questions.
“Ancient scripts and tablets, of course,” Cobb told her. “A lot of them have been lost to time, but enough survive with tantalizing hints. There have also been rumors of this element referenced in classical works through the Renaissance. The question is how to get to those artifacts and works of art without tipping off my competitors to the project.”
“Hence where you two come in,” Chairman Kluge said to Edward and Johann. “It is a dying custom, but young men of means still take a Grand Tour through Europe, ending in Italy, Greece, or the Ottoman Empire.”
“You wanted us to pose as tourists?” Johann asked.
“Yes, your musical and artistic backgrounds will be invaluable in recognizing clues and in gaining entree to private collections.” The dean poured a second cup of tea for himself. “But the original idea was for Professor McTavish to accompany you under the guise of looking for artifacts to bring back to the University for our museum. I don’t know how we could include an unchaperoned female.”
“I’ll have Miss Smythe with me to serve as chaperone,” Iris said. “And women take the tour as well. I could accompany them and pretend they are family friends protecting me and my virtue.”
“I don’t like all this deception,” Edward said. “If you want an aetherist to play this game of ‘let’s pretend,’ you need to find someone else.”
“You are the one whose specialty is the closest to the purpose of this quest. Plus, there is no one whose research shows the brilliance yours does, and I would hate for us to have to shut it down over lack of funds,” the dean said. “Or are you so eager for that appointment to Geology?”
Edward sat back with a huff, although his ego did inflate at the compliment. “No.”
“Let the young lady go,” Cobb said. “What’s more innocent than a group of young people?” Something about the way the American looked at Iris disturbed Edward. There wasn’t anything lustful or inappropriate, but rather a sense of cold calculation. It reminded Edward of the expression he felt on his own face when he was in the midst of an experimental manipulation—let’s make this adjustment and see what happens.
But Miss McTavish isn’t aether or an experimental material. She’s a female. Granted, she’s a bit talky, and she needs clean gloves, but…
“So are we decided?” Chairman Kluge asked. “That Professor Bailey and Mister Bledsoe will pose as Grand Tourists and Miss McTavish and her assistant will pretend to be a young lady and her maid, also on the Tour?”
“That should be easy enough,” Miss McTavish said with a look at Miss Smythe, who bit her lip.
Ugh, females. Edward didn’t want that kind of complication, but he also desired to keep his job and his department.
“What say you, Professor Bailey?” the dean asked.
“Very well,” Edward told them, making sure to sound very unhappy about it.
“Excellent, gentlemen and ladies,” Cobb told them. “I’ll have my people make the travel arrangements so we can keep as much of this out of the university gossip circle as possible. You’ll be hearing from them soon. Be sure to pack and set your affairs in order. You’ll depart for Europe on Friday.”
Chairman Kluge looked at Edward with a huge smile. “I’ll have Miss Ellis circulate a note that you’re taking a research sabbatical on the continent for the summer.”
“And how much do you propose to compensate us for our time and trouble?” asked Johann.
“I trust you will find my terms to be most reasonable,” Cobb said.
Edward rose, trusting his friend to take care of the boring financial bits. He supposed he should go back to his office and pack a trunk of the journals and books he would need so he wouldn’t get too far behind while gallivanting about Europe.
“Oh, and Professor Bailey?” Kluge asked.
“Yes, Chairman?”
“Pack light. Once you leave the main Continent, your transportation will become quite limited with regard to luggage space.”
Edward didn’t miss the glee with which Kluge said the words. Is that true, or is he saying it to torture me?
******
Happy Reading!!
Linda Joyce
The post New Release: Eros Element by Cecilia Dominic appeared first on Linda Joyce.
August 6, 2015
***99 cent ebook sale***
By day, Lonna Marconi’s busy career keeps her mind off the fact she was turned werewolf against her will. By night, a dose of wolfsbane lets her inner wolf out to play while her physical body stays safe at home.
When an overheard phone call at work warns her a trap is about to be sprung, she turns from hunter to hunted in the blink of an eye.
She finds refuge with the Ozarks pack she never claimed as her own. Upon discovering a family secret that explains why she’s unique among her own kind, Lonna finds heat in the arms of Max, who’s the one thing she cannot trust—a wizard.
Another kidnapping attempt sends her navigating the treacherous metaphysical borders of a centuries-old war, pursued by rogue sorcerers, a band of ghostly wolves, and repressed memories that prevent her from reclaiming her heritage. All the while, trusting her back to a wizard who demands the price of her heart…who may not have the luxury of giving his in return.
(second in a series but written to be read as a standalone, too)
Sale links:
Samhain Publishing: http://store.samhainpublishing.com/long-shadows-p-73287.html
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/long-shadows-cecilia-dominic/1117685729?ean=9781619220140
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/long-shadows-4
From the Author, Cecilia Dominic
a brief excerpt:
The sounds of the night chorused in my ears, and I panicked, sure I’d lost it. Then I smelled a fire and heard human breathing. I snuck closer until flickering light cast strange shadows in the trees and on me.
It stopped and made a campfire? This didn’t compute with either the wolf or the human parts of my brain.
“It did,” an unfamiliar voice said in my brain.
I growled, then, careful to keep any thoughts of my two companions out of my mind, but I was too late.
“They’re safe. They’re not after them, only you.”
“Your pronouns confuse me, sir. Who are they? Who are you?”
“And who are you?” The mental tone held amusement. “Come here in the circle of my fire and change so you’re out of their reach.”
“I’ll be naked.”
“I have clothes for you.”
I slunk closer until I could see the speaker. It was a man who sat close to a fire. The flames gleamed in the blond highlights in his reddish brown hair, and I recognized him from the doctor’s office. Now he wore slightly tinted lenses, and I could barely see his eyes behind their smoky panes.
“Doctor Fortuna?”
He stood and bowed in my direction. “Maximilian Fortuna at your service. Call me Max.”
“Son of a bitch… Sorry.”
He laughed, the lines around his sea-blue eyes crinkling. “Not to worry, milady. I’ll forgive your harsh language due to my having surprised you so rudely. Won’t you come have a bite?” He gestured to two rabbits on the ground. “I can roast them if you’d prefer.”
“No!” my inner wolf cried as my human side said, “Yes.”
“You seem to have some conflict,” he observed, speaking out loud but quietly. His lilting accent came into his physical voice more than his mental one. “You seem to not know who or what you are.”
At that point, my nose was twitching from the scent of the blood on the ground. He took one of the rabbits, skinned it with expert motions, and placed it over the fire on a simple spit made of three sticks. The fat sizzled as it hit the coals. He put the other rabbit, skin still on, beside the fire and stepped back. I lunged for it, but I pulled back just before biting it, my jaws snapping at air.
“Food, food, FOOD!” my inner wolf wailed, then piteously, “I’m hungry.”
“Down,” I commanded her. Wary of weapons, I watched him. He fanned the smoke from the cooking rabbit toward me, and I inhaled, my mouth watering. Everything smelled more intensely when I was in wolf form. A whine escaped my throat.
“You are still very much of two minds,” he observed. “Very interesting.” His eyes flashed yellow in the firelight, and I drew back, growling. Then I remembered something important: I was in the form of one of the most powerful predators on the planet, and he was unarmed and human, as far as I could tell. I snarled and stepped closer.
“Why are you playing with me? Why did you follow me?”
He held his hands in front of him. “I am unarmed. Do no harm to me, and none shall come to you.”
“Answer my questions.” I stopped my advance but continued to growl low in my throat.
“Stop making all that noise. Do you want us to be discovered?”
“Says the guy who built a fire in the middle of the freaking woods.” I forced my throat to stay silent, but I kept my teeth bared. “I’m giving you one more chance to answer my questions, or I’m giving my wolf self full permission to rip your head off.”
“There is no danger of discovery from the light in this circle, which was here long before your Crystal Pines subdivision and even before the little village known as Piney Mountain,” he said so quietly I doubt I would have been able to hear him if I’d been human. “I can harness the power of the woods without losing too much of my own, but sound is not my realm, so I am unable to manipulate it.”
Indeed, he seemed to gather the firelight around him, and the trees around the circle were invisible even to my wolf’s sharp eyes. I remembered how the lights had popped and sparked with him—or was it him?—near. The rabbit on the spit sent sizzling drippings into the fire again, and I jumped.
“Look, I have a robe if you would like to change. I promise I won’t peek.”
“Why would I give up my only advantage?”
“Trust me, Ms. Marconi, that’s not your only advantage.” He gave me a look that said he was aware of my human form and its assets.
“That doesn’t make me feel better. Again answers or throat ripping and evisceration. I’m keeping it simple for you.”
“I’ve been assigned to watch you because you’re in danger.” He sat cross-legged so we were eye to eye, a very vulnerable position for him since he wouldn’t be able to get up quickly and run, and I was in easy lunging distance of his assets. “You can trust me because I’m trying to protect you.”
I snorted, but my instincts told me he spoke the truth. However, I wasn’t sure how much I could trust myself. “Why should I believe you? We were shot at!”
“Yes, I’m aware of that. It’s why I decided to show myself to you. My orders were to follow at a distance and observe.”
If I’d been in human form, I would have asked more questions, but as a wolf, I sat back to consider his words. This close to him with the flames flickering over the planes of his face and his glasses, I couldn’t help but notice again he was a good-looking guy. I also smelled the meaty, bloody aroma of the two rabbits, one raw and the other cooking. Part of me wanted to change to human so I could enjoy it and maybe him as well, although my wolf side wouldn’t turn cooked food down.
“Focus, Lonna,” I told myself. There were too many distractions for my wolf’s brain to handle, but I was reluctant to change into my human form.
Another gunshot split the night’s silence, and Max jumped to his feet with startling agility. The fire extinguished itself, and my eyes adjusted to the darkness and the trees…
Max seemed to wrap the darkness around him. I would say it was like a cloak, but it was more like he blended in as a part of the scenery, more camouflage than cover, which was impressive considering his skin—although tanned—was still paler than the background of the rest of the woods. We listened for others, but there was nothing, not even the soft footfalls over wet leaves one would expect of humans.
# # #
Linda: Don’t miss out on the sale f this book! Happy Reading!
The post ***99 cent ebook sale*** appeared first on Linda Joyce.
