K.N. Lee's Blog, page 11

Write Like a Wizard 2016 Writing Challenge Entry- Of Love and Magic:

Write Like a Wizard 2016 Writing Challenge Entry-  Of Love and Magic:
In 4000 words or less, tell a story about a magician that makes a mistake during practice. He makes his assistant really disappear. Is there some sinister force at work? Does he truly command magic? What happens as the magician tries to bring his assistant back.

Of Love and Magic:
Eric Spalding rubbed his hand along an old faded poster, a smile stretching across his face. It was a reminder of how far he'd come since his teenage years. He was just a simple stage magician back then, back in his humble beginnings. He was in his mid-thirties now and had all ready become one of the leading illusionists in the world today. He often spent time in a special room in the mansion he'd purchased a few years back, thanks to his ever growing fame and fortune, reminiscing about the past. With all the amazing things he'd done with his career, nothing held a candle to the day he married his best friend and assistant, Michelle.
Lately they'd been working on ways to make their sets and illusions that much more magical in nature. They'd amassed quite the network of authentic resources over the years, but they were always looking to take things to that next level. Just last week Michelle had received an e-mail from a contact of theirs in the Middle East named David. They'd known him for about three years now and had purchased a number of things from him during that time. Apparently he'd managed to obtain, though she was glad he didn't say how, a few objects that he thought would be perfect for them. After she'd spoken to Eric about it, they agreed to meet with him in New York to take a look at what he had to show them. They would take a full week away from the endless shows in Vegas to turn it into something of a vacation, something they were long overdue for. They'd grown up and spent most of their lives in Ohio before Eric was discovered and ended up with the show in Vegas. Sure they'd been all over the country, and many others for that matter, but it had been all about business for the most part.
The moment the plane touched down at the JFK International Airport, they wasted no time at all catching a taxi to their Presidential Suite at the Four Seasons to drop of their luggage before heading to Fantasma Magic to see the Houdini Museum. Fantasma Magic was the leading manufacturer of magic tricks and the home of the most prestigious magic shop in the world. Eric and Michelle had placed a number of orders to them over the years, but had never actually had the chance to stop in and check everything out. It had been top on their places to visit for so long that it seemed like the perfect place to start their vacation. With so much to see there they spent hours just wandering around looking at things, and talking to the people working there.
They enjoyed themselves so much at Fantasma that they hadn't even realized how late it had gotten until it was closing time. The owner had stopped in upon hearing they were there, and asked them to stay and talk a little while once the doors were closed. They'd of course said yes, more than happy to oblige someone that they considered to be a friend. They spent hours drinking and discussing tricks they'd done and seen over the years. Ben was a good man, someone they felt fortunate to know. Before they left for the evening they promised to come back before they left for Vegas.
They spent the next couple days going to museums, catching shows on Broadway, and even meeting up for drinks with a few friends in the industry. It was exactly the vacation from the hustle and bustle of Vegas that they needed to recharge their batteries. The days flew by, and before they knew it, it was time to meet up with David. They'd decided to meet at a little cafe called Madman Espresso over on East Fourteenth that David had suggested. It was a small place, and there didn't seem to be a lot of customers there when they arrived. It was a rather brisk morning so they each ordered themselves a nice hot chocolate. Michelle of course added a shot of espresso and some white chocolate drizzle in hers, just the way she liked it. Just as they got their orders and shifted into a booth big enough for the three of them, David sauntered in. Today he was dressed in a button down black shirt and slacks, and simple black fedora set upon his shaved head. He was carrying a rather large briefcase in his left hand that seemed to be handcuffed to him. He ended up ordering himself a caramel macchiato and sat with them while he waited on it. He grinned as they exchanged some small talk. Just as his order was brought out to him he got down to business.“It's good to see the two of you, I think you're really going to like what I brought to show you. I'm not going to lie, this was a hard get.”
Eric nodded.
“I expect only the best from you David, show us what you got.”
David set the over sized briefcase upon the table and made a show of unlocking the handcuffs, opening the combination lock, and flipping the latches. He turned it around to face them and finally opened it up. Inside was a very old book that appeared to be bound in some kind of leather that neither of them immediately recognized. In the center of the bound cover was some sort of face, or at least that's how it looked to them. To the left of the strange book was the largest piece of onyx that either of them had ever laid their eyes upon, it had been fashioned into a very sleek looking wand. To the right laid a ring made of marble with unrecognizable symbols carved into the band. Eric and Michelle were immediately enthralled with the pieces. They shared a knowing look, they were the sort of couple that always seemed to know exactly what the other was thinking. It was Michelle that finally spoke up.
“I have to say David, these are some very interesting pieces. What can you tell us about them?”
David launched right into a long winded explanation. Sometimes it was hard to divide the truth from the stories when he'd show them things. It was all pageantry with him, he had this way of inserting romanticism into the mystical world. It's why they enjoyed working with him so much.
“Well, let's start with the book. It's quite famous actually. It had many names, the most common being the Necromonicon, or the Book of the Dead. It's said to be bound in human flesh, and the pages inked in blood. This may well be perhaps the most truly magical thing I have ever brought you, you'll not see it's like again.”
Eric was immediately skeptical. He went along with Michelle's love of the occult, but it all seemed like such bullshit to him. He'd seen and done so many amazing things over the years, things so many people considered to be true magic, when in reality there were simple explanations for each and every one of them. He wasn't the religious type, and he certainly didn't believe in magic. Michelle on the other hand was all ready inspecting the book, running a finger over it's spine. She spoke directly to David.
“I've heard mentions of this book all over the place. It's so famous that it's even littered throughout pop culture. I have some serious doubts that this is real David, no offense to you. Things like this just don't come up for sale.”
David held up a hand to stop her before launching into the speech he'd prepared ahead of time.
“I have all the proper pages to prove the authenticity of the piece. It's even been dated by reputable sources. You have no idea the nightmare this was to get through customs Michelle, and you don't even WANT to know how it came to be in my possession.”
Michelle nodded, sipping her drink. David's eyes were on that wand, so he decided to ask about it.
“What about the wand? I've never seen anything like it. I think it might add something special to a show I'm working on.”
David grinned his widest grin yet as he spoke.
“Yes, I had you in mind when I picked that up. The wand and the ring actually belonged to the same guy the book came from. He lead some cult he wouldn't stop going on and on about. Something about some beings called The Old Ones or some such. He was a very strange guy. All of these things were used in a variety of rituals so I'm told. The guy told me the majority of the cult had died under strange circumstances he couldn't go into. He was definitely the nervous sort if you ask me. He kept looking all around like he was waiting for someone the whole time. Anyway, according to him the wand contains very powerful magic. He also claimed the ring could make you invisible when paired with a particular spell from the book.”
That certainly sparked Eric's interest. He loved a good story just as much as the next guy. He didn't for a second believe a damn thing David was saying, all he cared about was how the items looked. His mind was all ready spinning with ideas. If the book was authentic they'd be famous just for owning it, things like that always brought a sort of notoriety with them after all. It was Michelle that broke the silence.
“All right David, I'm going to level with you. I want that book. How much for the lot?”
If they thought David's grin couldn't get any wider, they were wrong. He had them over a barrel and they all knew it. He could name whatever price he wanted and was damn near certain they'd pay it. Luckily he all ready had an appropriate number in mind.
“Three million for the lot, not a penny less”
Eric took a deep breath at that price. It seemed like a lot to pay for the items. They could afford it, but that wasn't the point. On the other hand, if this book was authentic it was likely worth more than that alone. He glanced at Michelle as he sipped his hot chocolate. She nodded once to him, it was a small nod but it spoke volumes. She wanted this lot. It was impossible for him to deny her things she wanted, especially when she asked for so little. He turned to David and spoke the words that would soon come back to haunt him.
“Three million seems steep for all of this David, but if these papers check out it seems worth it. I can wire you the money right now if that works for you.”
David nodded emphatically.
“That's why I love doing business with the two of you. It's quick and to the point every single time. Shake on it?”
David shook hands with each of them in turn. Eric pulled out his cell, got the numbers he needed from David, and wired the money into his account. When it was all said and done David closed the briefcase and slid it over to them. They talked for a while longer before finishing their drinks and parting ways. The second they left, briefcase in hand, Michelle placed a kiss on Eric's cheek. He eyed her curiously as he flagged down a taxi.
“What was that for?”
She beamed at him.“For loving me Eric. I know you bought that book for me. I can't begin to tell you how excited I am to start checking it out. I'm intrigued about finding the spell that works with the ring as well. What if it works Eric? That would change everything!”
He chuckled as he helped her into the taxi. She knew he didn't believe in any of it, but he always humored her just the same.
“My love, if it works, it will be a miracle in and of itself”
They took the taxi back to the hotel. Michelle wanted to get a start on the book and Eric wanted to write some notes for the new show he was working on. They were headed back to see Ben in the morning at Fantasma, and then they'd catch their flight back to Vegas that evening. Michelle barely took her eyes off the book, Eric had to make her stop to eat a few times. She reluctantly put it down sometime in the middle of the night and slipped into bed with him for a little shut eye.
The next morning came sooner than they would have liked. They packed up all of their things to get ready for the flight later and headed over to Fantasma to meet up with Ben. He was just as happy to see them as he'd been before. Eric had even brought the briefcase with him to show the man what they'd procured. Ben was floored to say the least, barely able to keep his eyes off that book. There was some sort of deep understanding in his eyes that made Eric a little bit uncomfortable. Ben looked back up to Eric as he spoke.“What would you guys say to a little demonstration today? I'm curious about this ring situation.”
Before Eric could speak up Michelle had slipped the ring on her finger and stood with a bright smile on her face. She flipped to the page that contained the spell for it and slid the book to Eric.
“Just say the words my love, and it should work. Oh, and please use the wand. I'd love to see how it looks in your hand.”
Eric laughed a bit, this seemed like an insane idea. There was no way this was going to work, he was certain of that. Maybe proof that it wouldn't would settle a long standing argument between him and Michelle. Ben seemed to be sweating for some reason, which seemed like a fairly odd reaction in Eric's opinion. He couldn't shake off a sudden discomfort brewing in his stomach. Michelle snapped him out of his reverie.
“Earth to Eric. Just say the words love, I'm getting anxious.”
He nodded to her and looked down at the, supposed, blood inked words on the page. He felt a little nauseous all the sudden. The harder he stared at the words the more they seemed to shift on the page, as if they didn't want to be read. He let out breath he didn't know he was holding in and did his best to read out loud with a few well placed flourishes of the onyx wand.
“Wush shata ghu'gt, I thaftft ialun Tha Oftg Onat. Lang na xuia' lugha' tu I nax huga nxtaftr r'un sha ghu'ftg ur nan. I thhannaft shaa ghush shut 'ung, ftas us fta guna!”
Eric had no idea if he'd even spoken the words correctly, it all sounded like complete gibberish to him. He was about to say as much when a strange electricity crackled in the air. The wand began to glow a sickly green color. Eric nearly dropped it in surprise as the onyx began to heat up. Ben was shaking a little, a look of terror in his eyes as he looked to Michelle. She let out a gasp as the ring started to glow the same color as a wand. She screamed out Eric's name just before she disappeared. Eric couldn't believe what he was seeing, shock wasn't even the word for it. He ran at the space where she'd been standing just seconds before, feeling around for her. Surely if she were just invisible, she'd still be there right? Minutes were flying by as he frantically called out for her, searching every single inch of the room with his hands and eyes. Ben stood there just staring at him, causing anger to swell in Eric.
“Stop standing there and help me find her Ben!”
Ben's face went white as she shook his head, barely able to get out the words on his lips.
“She's not here Eric.”
That stopped Eric dead in his tracks.“What the hell do you mean she's not here Ben?”
Ben shifted forward and attempted to put a hand on Eric's shoulder, which Eric shrugged off instantly. Ben spoke frantically
“This book, it's so much more than you can understand! It's a gate way to other dimensions! Dimensions where The Old Ones rule! They're horrid, maddening things Eric! People just don't come back from that! You need to take that book and leave immediately. Get it out of here Eric!”
Eric was just as stunned by Ben's words as he had been at Michelle's disappearance. In a blind rage he slammed everything back into the briefcase and stormed out of the room. He caught a taxi back to the hotel and made the call to cancel their flights back to Vegas. He would stay in that room until he found a way to bring back the love of his life, no matter how long it took. Minutes became hours, hours became days. He'd stopped sleeping, stopped eating, time meant nothing now. He was wasting away there in that room and he didn't even care. All that mattered to him was having Michelle back in his arms again. Tears dripped from his eyes till they were raw, further adding to his dehydration. He'd started trying spells at random now, desperate to cause some change that would lead her back to him. Panic attacks came by the dozens, each wracking his body and mind harder than the one before it. He was starting to see things now. Red eyes were staring back at him from under the bed, tentacles danced in his peripheral vision, gurgling and insane laughter echoing through the room. Each spell became more and more intense, driving him into a madness he didn't think he'd ever truly be able to recover from.
A week had passed and still he had not eaten or slept. He was so weak he could barely move, let alone read out loud the spells that didn't wish to be read. He forced the words into his plane of existence, binding the magic to the wand without ever even knowing it. Every failure brought with it the creeping doom that he would never set eyes on his beloved again. No, he couldn't accept that, he wouldn't. Just one more spell he kept telling himself. One more spell and she'll be back, then they would go home together. By now the spells were causing more issues than he could bring himself to notice. Things were waiting for him in the dark, he caught more obvious glimpses of them now and again.
Just before he collapsed, the room changed a final time. It looked as if it had before he had started reading from the book. No hint of the many faced horrors were left. There was only Michelle, sitting there on the bed staring at him with a confused look stretched across her seemingly confused features, her dark hair in a state of disarray. She pulled the ring from her finger immediately and tossed it onto the bed beside her before standing and rushing over to him. He collapsed on the floor in her arms, his eyes unable to remain open.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed with him asleep. When he came to he was in a hospital by the looks of it. A quick look around told him all he needed to know. She was curled up in a chair seemingly asleep. He was hooked up to an iv and all manner of beeping machines. He felt a little stronger than he had before, so that was certainly a plus. When he cleared his throat she woke up, a worried smile passing over her face. She stood with a stretch and moved to the side of the bed, running a hand through his hair so lovingly. He couldn't help but notice she did it with her right hand, which was a bit strange since she was left handed. He closed his eyes at her touch, chalking his moment of paranoia up to the situation. They stayed that way for a little while.
He was released from the hospital the next day with a stern warning from the doctor to take it easy. They rested for another few days at the hotel before leaving again for Vegas. Michelle had suggested they return to Fantasma to speak with Ben, but Eric wanted nothing to do with the situation. He was certain the man had known what was going to happen before she even slipped the ring on, even if he couldn't prove it. That was a situation he planned to deal with on his own at another time. Things were otherwise a bit on the odd side over the next few days. There were odd little clues like Michelle not calling him any of the pet names she had for him, the continued use of her right hand, the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't looking, and something in her demeanor that just seemed off. She'd even gone back to obsessing over the book again, but this time with a renewed fervor. He thought maybe it was just her trying to figure out what had happened at first, but soon realized it was something much more than that.
Soon enough they were back in Vegas, and moving on with their lives. He'd stopped ordering from Fantasma, and took to only picking up things from private collector's in the industry. It was a bit more expensive that way, but he couldn't stand the thought of sending any more money to Ben. He often replayed the last words the man had spoken to him over in his head at night when he was alone with his thoughts. Ben had said she'd never come back from what happened with that ring. Could he be right? Something brushed his leg beneath the blanket, and he looked over to find Michelle sound asleep. When it brushed again he lifted the covers to have a look. He wasn't prepared for what he saw beneath. There, nestled against his leg, was an inky black tentacle. His eyes followed it to it's source, Michelle. Suddenly her eyes opened wide, staring into his. There was a hunger burning there in eyes that he no longer recognized. Even her words sounded foreign as she spoke them..
“Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn “
Was this some lasting effect of the spells he'd used to bring her back? Was he hallucinating? He'd almost convinced himself he was, until that tentacle began to slither it's way up his flesh, followed by others that appeared to rip their way through Michelle's smooth pale skin. Dark, inky blood oozed from the wounds as those tentacles began to bind his wrists and ankles, pressing him down hard against the bed. God, those eyes, staring into his soul, those hungry eyes. His body began to shake as the pressure intensified. She moved to straddle his waist, a hideous laughter tearing through her throat in tones that were no longer human. He tried to fight back against her, begging her not to do this. She merely ran a hand through his hair slowly and forced a hand over his mouth to cut off his words. Her jaw broke and peeled back to reveal a widely distorted mouth of row after row of sharp jagged teeth. Resigned to his fate, he looked upon oblivion with a small smile, knowing he'd see HIS Michelle again soon enough.

Dirty Ugly Toy Review

Dirty Ugly Toy Review
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Her time is over. Things are looking up. 
She’s dirty and ugly. He’s wicked but handsome. 
Six months to toy with her. Six months of vacation and a ton of money. 
I’ll hurt her beyond repair. I’ve been through much worse. 
She's difficult to control and doesn't obey. I'm done submitting to anyone or anything in this life. 
I should hate her. I should hate him. 
The game has changed. I will win. 
Dirty Ugly Toy is a novel that blurs the lines of right and wrong, deals with abuse, contains dubious consent, and adult subject matter. If you are sensitive to violent sexual situations, the book may not be suitable for you. Some parts of this book are not easy to read and are not intended for everyone. However, those that keep an open mind and stick with it will not be disappointed.
My Review:
Dirty Ugly Toy by, K. Webster has flipped my world upside down. As a girl that usually reads fantasy and despised romance, Webster has made me a believer. Perhaps my former distaste for romance was that the ones I had read were sweet. Too sweet. Dirty Ugly Toy is dirty, ugly, and so delicious. The characters are so well developed that I was brought to tears on multiple occasions. 
This NEVER happens to me. 
When a character is so well written that they feel like real people that you care about and root for, you know you have struck gold. I found myself reading into the late hours of the night, wondering if Bunny would win her master's heart. 
With expert storytelling, Webster spins a tale that will find a dark place in your soul and cling to it forever. This book is gold, and I have yet to stop telling every friend that is willing to listen all about it!

An Interview with K. Webster

An Interview with K. Webster
Today I am so thrilled to have K. Webster on Write Like a Wizard! I am such a fan girl. Recently, I read "Dirty Ugly Toy," and it was incredible. I hope you enjoyed her entry in my writing challenge yesterday. Enjoy her interview, and look forward to my review of "Dirty Ugly Toy" tomorrow!
Where are you from? Oklahoma What inspired you to write your first book? A little over two years ago, I went to a signing with Colleen Hoover, Abbi Glines, and Jamie McGuire.  Something about meeting them and learning more about them inspired me.  I went straight home and opened a Word document to write my first book.  The rest is history! Do you write full-time or part-time? How do you balance your writing life with your family/work life? I’m a full-time writer.  I attempt to keep my work hours during the day while my two kids are at school.  Not only can I focus better in the quiet house, but also, I can give them my undivided attention in the evenings.  It doesn’t always work out that perfectly but that’s what I strive for. What book are you reading now? I just finished a dark, suspenseful romantic trilogy called With Visions of Red by Trisha Wolfe and it was amazing!  Can you share a little of your current work with us?
Currently, I’m working on my darkest read to date.  I wrote without boundaries or rules.  This book is meant to disgust and frighten my readers.  It’s romance though so there’ll be a light at the end of the tunnel…eventually.  This is War, Baby is an intense, steamy, and psychological thriller of a romance!  How do you overcome writer’s block?
Reading and watching movies ALWAYS drags the blanket covering my mind away and clears the way for me to write my stories.  Something about watching other people’s art helps me find my way back to my own. What was the most fun part of writing your book? The best part of writing for me is watching my general story idea take shape into something greater—something people can interpret, understand, and love.  I like seeing when readers are able to grasp tiny nuances I sneak into stories because I know I’ve done my job.   What was the hardest part of writing your book?
Not chasing other ideas before I finish what I’ve started.  Sometimes other characters speak louder in my head and it’s hard to shut them up so I don’t quit on something that I’d once started with the same fervor as the story currently begging for attention.   Did you learn anything from writing your book and what was it?
Always learning.  With each book, each review, each edit, I feel like I take all of that information and utilize it to help me make my stories stronger, richer, and more palatable.   Do you have any advice for other writers?
Write first, worry later.  Write first, edit later.  Write first, promote later.  In a nutshell, get that darn story out of your head and the rest can wait.  If you’re constantly distracted by worries of whether or not the book is good enough, or agonizing over every single word you write, or are focused on making teasers or book covers when you’re not even halfway through your manuscript, then you’ll never get the best story out that you can.  Instead, focus on the book and then put everything else behind that.  Don’t get distracted by what you are first and foremost: a writer/storyteller.    Do you have anything specific that you want to say to your readers?
Thank you for always taking a chance with me.  I tend to write wherever my mind takes me.  It’s taken me through hell and heaven and through shapeshifting humans.  It’s taken me through the Victorian era with naughty talking lords and countesses.  It’s taken me through the worlds of dark, dirty crazy alphas.  And it’s taken me into the minds of serial killers and villains.  I’m thankful that no matter where my stories carry me and through what genre, I have readers that follow me there.  That trust I’ll give them something worth reading.   Do you have an agent or publisher? How did you go about finding one?
It’s all me.  I do all the work and it’ll probably always be that way for me.  I’m kind of a control freak when it comes to my own success.  Plus, I like keeping all the monies rather than just a portion. If you could live anywhere, where would it be? I’m trying to talk the hubs into moving to Florida.  A little sunshine and ocean water never hurt anyone! If you could have any super power, what would it be?
Super focus.  I tend to get easily distracted by anything and everything.  If there was a switch I could flip that kept me on task, I’d gladly keep that switch flipped from 9-5 each day! 
Author Bio: K Webster is the author of dozens of romance books in many different genres including contemporary romance, historical romance, paranormal romance, and erotic romance. When not spending time with her husband of twelve years and two adorable children, she's active on social media connecting with her readers.

Her other passions besides writing include reading and graphic design. K can always be found in front of her computer chasing her next idea and taking action. She looks forward to the day when she will see one of her titles on the big screen. 


You can easily find K Webster on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, and Goodreads!  Website: www.authorkwebster.com Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bllgoP

Write Like a Wizard 2016 Writing Challenge Entry- K. Webster

In 3000 words or less, tell a story about a young woman that lost her memory. She wakes up in a cabin with a man that she doesn't know. What happens?
Result:
257
 by, K. Webster
“Shhh, it’s me, Damien.”  The unfamiliar deep voice rumbles behind the bare, sculpted chest of the man sitting across from me.  I narrow my eyes in an effort to bring forth any sense of memory.Nothing but darkness.  In my head.  In my heart.  And right in front of me.This man is bad, I can feel it.“Who are you?”He reaches a muscled arm toward my leg and I draw both of my knees up to my chest to escape his touch.  His frown is immediate and it quickens the pace of my heart.  I’d almost say I know, deep down, that he’s hurt me before.  My body’s initial reaction is to stay away from his touch.“I’m your husband, love.”  His lips curve up into a half smile that causes heat to creep up my neck.  I don’t want to like his smile but I can’t help it.  It’s beautiful.Dragging my gaze away from his handsome face, I stare down at the massive diamond on my ring finger.  Married.  To this man.“I don’t understand.  Why don’t I remember?”  Tears well in my eyes but don’t fall.  I swallow down the terror of my situation and attempt to understand who the hell I am.“Do you know your name?”I lift my gaze back to his tender one that causes my chest to ache before jerking it to the window behind him.  Snow.  Lots and lots of it.  Everyfuckingwhere.  We’re out here in a remote cabin in the middle of nowhere and I’m his captive.  I think.“Umm…” I trail off and scrunch my brows together as I attempt to figure out that vital piece of information.“Sarah Rose Hunt,” he provides with a soft voice.  “Born April 6th, 1981 to George and Regina LeBlanc in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.  Your favorite color is black, you gothic geek, and you drink coffee as if it nourishes your soul somehow.”At the mention of coffee, I inhale.  I can smell it and a sense of longing fills me.  Perhaps this man does know me.  Maybe I’m not his captive.“Can I have some?”He flashes me a wicked grin that jolts me right to my core.  “Of course.”Damien rises from his chair from beside the couch and saunters off toward the open kitchen.  In an attempt not to stare at his nice firm ass in his low-slung jeans, I inspect my surroundings.  The small cabin doesn’t seem any bigger than a thousand square feet but it’s been elegantly decorated.  The kitchen is sleek with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances.  A massive flat screen is mounted above the roaring fireplace.  And the sofa I’m lounging on is a soft, most likely expensive leather.  We’re hardly roughing it out here.  Wherever here is.Moments later, he returns with a steaming mug and I sip it with minimal hesitation.“God,” I agree with a slight moan, “this is so good.  You’re right.  I do love coffee.”He winks at me.  “Told you.”  He then sits in the chair and leans back, his gaze devouring me.  I squirm under it and glance back out the window.“Why are we here?”Panic flashes over his features before he quickly masks it away.  “We’re vacationing.”My brow raises on its own accord.  I do know him.  As much as my overactive mind would like to imagine he’s my captive, I know better.  And furthermore, I can sense he’s lying to me.“We’re not vacationing.  Out with it, Damien,” I bite out and pin him with a firm glare.He runs his fingers through his dark brown hair and huffs in frustration.  “We come here when we need a break.  It’s our therapy.”This time, he’s telling me the truth.  “Why do we need therapy? Are we not happy?”His dark eyes lift to mine and he clenches his jaw.  “Sometimes we need reminding.”I wait for him to elaborate but he doesn’t respond.  When he doesn’t, I set my coffee down and cross my arms over my chest.  I wince at some bruising on my breasts.“Was I in an accident?”He chuckles.  “No.”I glare at him.  “No wonder we had to come here for a time out.  I was probably annoyed as shit at your lack of communication.  Seriously, Damien.  How in the hell am I supposed to remember who I am if you speak in riddles?”“We were actually making fucking progress,” he says with a deep growl.  “Things were looking up and then I fucked it all up.”He doesn’t make any sense.  Rage festers inside of me and begins to surge through me.  “How?  So help me, Damien.  Out with it.  All of it before I get up and leave.  I’ll find someone who can tell me more.”His eyes widen and he shakes his head in vehemence.  “No, please don’t do that.  For fuck’s sake.  I’ll tell you everything, okay?”I nod in a curt manner and press my lips together to keep from snapping at him anymore.“We got into a fight.  You told me you were sick of me and our marriage.  That you were leaving me and had fucking divorce papers, love.  I panicked.”I frown at his words but wait for him to continue.“I tried to bring our spark back.  To remind you of the passion we seemed to have forgotten.  At first,” he says with a slight smile that causes my core to ache, “you were into it.  Kissing me and ripping at my hair like you couldn’t get enough of me.  But then, as if you suddenly remembered, you turned cold on me.  Told me it was over and there was no turning back.”His eyes, the color of my coffee, meet mine and the pain is evident.  He loves me with every part of his being.  The idea warms me and I bask in it.  I’m not sure what happened between us but if he loved me so much, surely we can find our way back to that.  Surely I can remember.  Surely I can look at him that way one day too.“Things got physical, as do most things between us, and before you know it, I’m fucking you against the wall in the hallway in a desperate effort to get to our bed.”The heat from his story burns through me and I shudder.  “So we had hot sex?  Hardly seems problematic.”He chuckles and I swear it makes my panties wet.  I’m embarrassed for some reason which is ridiculous considering he’s my husband and this is natural.“Sarah, our sex has never been problematic.  The aftermath usually is though,” he grins and his gaze drags over my breasts under my T-shirt.  Bruises around my nipples seem to tingle and I understand that he knows they’re there.  That he’s the one that put them there with his teeth and lips.The idea only further dampens my panties.“I lost my memory from sex?” I question with an astonished laugh.He shakes his head.  “Well, sort of.  We crashed through our bedroom door to the wood floor.  You hit your head pretty hard.”I slide my fingers to the back of my head and touch it.  It’s not tender.  There’s no bruising.  I don’t even have a headache.  Something’s not adding up.“I see.”But I don’t see.  What if he’s lying to me again?  Could I really be a prisoner?“I need to go to the restroom,” I squeak out.He nods with furrowed brows and I feel the heat of his gaze on me as I rush to the open door next to the kitchen.How did I know it was the bathroom?  I guess I have been here before.  Shit, this is all confusing.  Once I’m inside the bathroom, I shut the door and then find my way to the mirror.  Long, black hair.  Green eyes.  Pouty lips.  I’m pretty, I guess.  Damien is hot.  I suppose we make a good match.            His gaze softens but he pounds harder into me.  “Try.”
And I do.Closing my eyes, I grit my teeth and focus on anything but the pleasure.  I think about him.  Damien Hunt.  My husband.  What does he do for a living?  How long have we been married?  Where do we—“Now, love!”His snarled out command jerks me from my internal ponderings and I allow myself to get washed up in the pleasure he’s doling out.  The intensity seems to surge through me like a thousand volts of electricity and I’m powerless to stop it even if I’d tried.  My entire body shudders beneath his touch and I don’t come down from my high until I feel his come trickling down my thigh.“I love you too, Sarah.  Every single day.  Please don’t ever forget that.”  His plea is heartfelt and it makes my chest ache.  It’s as if he’s said this same phrase a hundred times.  The words are familiar and unlock something inside my head.“You’ve said that before.”His body stiffens and he quickly pulls out of me.  He deliberately keeps his eyes downcast as he cleans himself with a towel.“Damien?  You’ve said that before haven’t you?  A lot?”I’m taken aback when his angry gaze meets mine.  Hot tears fill his eyes but he doesn’t let them spill over.  His jaw clenches as he holds in words he doesn’t want me to know.“Tell me, goddammit!” I demand with a wobble to my voice.  “I deserve to know.”With a loud exhalation of breath, he spits out words that chill my soul.“Sarah, my beautiful wife, I’ve said that phrase every day for two-hundred fifty seven days.”But that means…“How long have I been like this?  How long have I been unable to remember?”  He shakes his head and storms out of the bathroom, calling out over his shoulder.  “You have your answer.”Two-hundred fifty seven.Almost a year.With shaky hands, I fumble to get my shirt back on and drag my panties back up my legs.  I chase after him and find him with his forehead against the glass of the backdoor as he stares out.“We have this discussion.  Every day, baby.  Every goddamned day and you never remember.  The doctors claim it will come back one day.  To be patient with you.”Tears roll down over my cheeks and I slide my arms around his bare waist.  Resting my cheek on his muscular back, I inhale his scent and it seems a part of who I am it’s that familiar.  “When does it happen?  When do I forget?”“Every time you go to sleep, you wake back up clueless.  That’s why we’ve stayed here in the cabin.  I can keep you safe and watch over you.”  His hands find mine over his stomach and he strokes the back of them.“I’m starting to remember, I think,” I assure him.  “Like, I knew I loved you.  I knew you hurt me at first but then came to realize it was because you like it rough when we have sex.  And I knew you said those words.  See, I’m getting better.”He remains quiet but his deep breathing and rapid heartbeat that I can feel through his back indicate a thousand thoughts running rampant through him.“Damien, what if I leave a clue?  I can write something down and then you can show it to me tomorrow.  I promise, this can work.”He turns in my arms and smiles at me.  It’s fake and for my benefit.  My husband doesn’t believe me.  As if we’ve had this entire conversation over and over again.  “Sure, beautiful.  Let’s leave a message.”With a wild determination, I peel myself from him and set to hunting down something to write with.This time, I’ll remember.I’ll make sure of it.***            “I won’t forget,” I promise as I trace lazy circles on his chiseled chest.  I’ll never tire of touching this man.  Ever.  I can’t believe I would have ever wanted to divorce him.            “Okay, love.”            His placating tone irritates me but I don’t call him out.  I instead, burn these memories into my brain.  The masculine, clean scent that permeates the air around me after our hot shower.  The way his smooth skin feels under my fingertips.  The deep rumble of his voice.  The way his body connects perfectly with mine.            “Do I easily give myself up to you every day within minutes of waking up?”            He chuckles and I bask in the warmth of it.  “Every time.”            “I love you, Damien.  I can feel it.  That’s why.  I may not remember it but I feel it.”            His fingers tangle in my hair and he kisses the top of my head.  “I know, love.”***            I’m hot.            Suffocating heat drags me from my dreamless sleep and I attempt to sit up in the darkness.  Something heavy prevents me from sitting up all the way and I freeze.            An arm.            A man’s arm to be exact.            Did I get shitfaced last night?  Is this a one-night stand gone too long?            I slide out from under him and slip off the bed.  The moment my bare feet touch the chilled wood floor, I sigh in relief.  A cold draft of air cools my skin and I shakily hunt for my clothing in the dark.            Sneaking into the bathroom, I flip on the light and look for anything to cover up with.  I find a discarded T-shirt on the floor and quickly throw it on.  The mad dash to the door is short lived the moment I make it to the window and see the white blanket of snow covering everything around the cabin.  With a sigh, I make my way into the kitchen and flip on the light.            My gaze falls to a notebook on the counter.  Curiosity gets the best of me and I pick it up.  Turning to the first page, I recognize my writing.  Each page, a desperate plea for me to remember.  A plea to remember my identity.  My husband.  My life.  All signed by me.  Sarah Hunt.            Dread consumes me and I heave the notebook away from me.            “No,” I hiss.  “This is a bad dream.  Wake up, Sarah!”            I’m stumbling back toward the door again.  Maybe a mad dash through the snow away from this cabin will wake me up from this nightmare.  This has to be a nightmare.I’ve just turned the knob when two hot, strong arms grab me from behind.            “Shhh, it’s me, Damien.”
Amazon Author Page Facebook Twitter Website  Goodreads
Author Bio: K Webster is the author of dozens of romance books in many different genres including contemporary romance, historical romance, paranormal romance, and erotic romance. When not spending time with her husband of twelve years and two adorable children, she's active on social media connecting with her readers.

Her other passions besides writing include reading and graphic design. K can always be found in front of her computer chasing her next idea and taking action. She looks forward to the day when she will see one of her titles on the big screen. 


You can easily find K Webster on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, and Goodreads!  Website: www.authorkwebster.com Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bllgoP

Shadow Lord – Episode 1 (Ghosts Are Real)

Shadow Lord – Episode 1 (Ghosts Are Real)

Shadow Lord
by, K.N. LeeLord Kristoff wakes up to the night.It is his playground.The leader of the creatures that haunt your nightmares, Kristoff is not your average wealthy playboy. He searches the world for the right one. The one to complete his dynasty.His queen.Willa, a kind-hearted artist, with a boring job at the museum and a dark and mysterious past, might just quench his thirst. He knows her true secret...about the power she tries to keep hidden.Kristoff must make her fall for him.Before she ends his century-old life. New chapter every week.
Read now!

Kristyn Eudes' Top 5 Favorite Authors **Fated Capture Tour & Kindle Giveaway**

Kristyn Eudes' Top 5 Favorite Authors **Fated Capture Tour & Kindle Giveaway**
Please welcome today's guest, Kristyn Eudes. With bold characters, fun plots, and swoon-worthy book boyfriends, she graces Write Like a Wizard with her top 5 favorite authors, a look at her book, "Fated Capture," and a kindle giveaway! Enjoy.
Top 5 Favorite Authors
Jude DeverauxPC castJames PattersonKristen CashoreColleen Hoover


AMAZON
I am a normal seventeen-year old girl living a normal life... Well as normal as a Half-Human, Half-Craecia girl can be anyway while trying to avoid becoming an unwilling hostage of the Orfeo in the process of saving my best friend and brother from said Orfeo. Ok so I wasn't normal and neither was my life, but it wasn't all bad either. I am the Chosen. I know! Sounds so cool right! My very
existence threatens everything Ose the leader of the Orfeo has obtained. I just don't know how to bring him crumbling to knees yet. That's where Lyon comes in ... *sigh. Yep I'm smitten. HEY! Don't judge me. If you had seen him you'd be smitten too. He's all hot, sexy, protective wildness rolled into a beautiful, British-speaking male specimen and he was created just for me. Together we will do everything in our power to stop the evil from spreading and destroying the world.
AMAZON


Author Bio:Kristyn Eudes was raised in a small town in Alabama, where she recently married her best friend and love of her life.  Together, they are raising their combined large family  along with their newly adopted Tuxedo kitty, Fluffy.  
When not writing the next book in her Fated Keepers series, Kristyn obsessives over The Vampire Diaries, enjoys reading books by her favorite authors and brainstorming her next writing project.  She loves all kinds of music and art, believing that creativity opens the soul. Her favorite hobbies are horseback riding and volleyball and she absolutely adores baseball (Go Red Sox) !!!
Social Media:WEBSITE
FACEBOOKTWITTER a Rafflecopter giveaway

An Interview with Author, K.L. Horvath

An Interview with Author, K.L. HorvathToday Write Like a Wizard features a brilliant author that has been signed with BookTrope Publishing. I've read her debut novel, The Undays of Aralias Lyons, and it is captivating. Check out my interview with her and let me know what you think of her answers and synopsis of the book!
Why do you write? When I’m writing I feel like my truest self as if writing is what I was meant to do. I have this incredible imagination and writing helps me find a way to express it. And I’ve wanted to be able to move someone that I’ve never met just as other writers have moved me, to give someone a sense of wonderment and beauty in this world.What made you decide to sit down and actually start something?I’ve always enjoyed writing. When I was a child I wrote poems to my grandmother in blue crayon. My first book I began after college and it was kind of a test to see if I could do it. It was a young adult novel that I’d planned as a series of four books. That first book ended up being four hundred pages long.Do you write full-time or part-time? I write whenever I can. But I mainly write part-time because I do have another job to consider. Do you have a special time to write or how is your day structured?I like to write more in the evenings than in the mornings. If I have a day free I’ll usually go to my favorite coffee shop and write from five to eight hours straight. I’ll sit there with my chai tea and little by little pour out words onto the pages. Do you write on a typewriter, computer, dictate or longhand?I’ll write on my laptop. Once in a while I’ll feel like I need to try something new just to jolt the imagination and I’ll break out my pencil and a plethora of notebooks.Where do your ideas come from?I start with an interesting, main character and write my story around them. I’ll then sketch out a plot and go back and develop that character’s flaws, desires and taste in things and then it’s a race to the end.  What is the hardest thing about writing?For me it’s the self-doubt. You are working on a book for months and months and perhaps years never knowing if a single person will enjoy it or understand it.What is the easiest thing about writing?When you’re in a great writing rhythm and the words are dripping off your fingertips so fast you can hardly keep up.How long on average does it take you to write a book?It takes about two years.Do you ever get writer’s Block?Yes, I think all writers eventually experience writer’s block.Any tips on how to get through the dreaded writer’s block?

I think putting the writing aside and letting it all fall out of your head for a little while helps. Sometimes you’ve just been pushing too hard on it and nothing seems to be working. In those times I’ll take a bit of a break and let it breathe then go back to it and something kindles my imagination again and then I’m unblocked. 


About the AuthorK.L. Horvath is a fantasy author, whose books are filled with magical realism, romance and elements of the fantastical with a good dash of humor. Born in a small town in Ohio where corn grew like wildfire and horses were her next door neighbors she developed a deep love of nature and art. She adores Monet’s sailing ships and his collection of hay stacks.
Don’t miss K.L. Horvath’s compelling time travel fantasy with talking beasts, iron monsters, otherworldly creatures and a desperate father! 

For centuries the great Houses of Time have watched over the mythical creatures, those who manipulate the past for their own ends and humankind. But now the houses have dwindled and few are left who remember the mandates. One, in fact, is determined to put the world in its proper place—beneath his rule. 

To do that, he’s kidnapped Jack Lyons, the youngest of the Time Travelers. And to get him back and defeat Bliss, Lord Aralias Lyons, Jack’s father, will do anything he has to. He’ll fight wicked spiders, an army of clockwork men, let his son suffer and manipulate time itself in order to right what Bliss has put wrong. He’ll even allow the innocent Miss Clara Heartwell to discover more about the Travelers than most mortals know. 

Through secret and deadly deals with dragons, battles back in time and with Jack himself, Aralias has to think smarter, act faster, and be more decisive. Because in the end, saving Jack is all that matters…Get The BookAmazon – Barnes & Noble Add to Goodreads

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An Interview with Author, Kerry Horvath

Why do you write?When I’m writing I feel like my truest self as if writing is what I was meant to do. I have this incredible imagination and writing helps me find a way to express it. And I’ve wanted to be able to move someone that I’ve never met just as other writers have moved me, to give someone a sense of wonderment and beauty in this world.What made you decide to sit down and actually start something?I’ve always enjoyed writing. When I was a child I wrote poems to my grandmother in blue crayon. My first book I began after college and it was kind of a test to see if I could do it. It was a young adult novel that I’d planned as a series of four books. That first book ended up being four hundred pages long.Do you write full-time or part-time? I write whenever I can. But I mainly write part-time because I do have another job to consider. Do you have a special time to write or how is your day structured?I like to write more in the evenings than in the mornings. If I have a day free I’ll usually go to my favorite coffee shop and write from five to eight hours straight. I’ll sit there with my chai tea and little by little pour out words onto the pages. Do you write on a typewriter, computer, dictate or longhand?I’ll write on my laptop. Once in a while I’ll feel like I need to try something new just to jolt the imagination and I’ll break out my pencil and a plethora of notebooks.Where do your ideas come from?I start with an interesting, main character and write my story around them. I’ll then sketch out a plot and go back and develop that character’s flaws, desires and taste in things and then it’s a race to the end.  What is the hardest thing about writing?For me it’s the self-doubt. You are working on a book for months and months and perhaps years never knowing if a single person will enjoy it or understand it.What is the easiest thing about writing?When you’re in a great writing rhythm and the words are dripping off your fingertips so fast you can hardly keep up.How long on average does it take you to write a book?It takes about two years.Do you ever get writer’s Block?Yes, I think all writers eventually experience writer’s block.Any tips on how to get through the dreaded writer’s block?
I think putting the writing aside and letting it all fall out of your head for a little while helps. Sometimes you’ve just been pushing too hard on it and nothing seems to be working. In those times I’ll take a bit of a break and let it breathe then go back to it and something kindles my imagination again and then I’m unblocked. 

Write Like A Wizard 2016 Writing Challenge Entry- "By A Nose" Michael W. Holman

Write Like A Wizard 2016 Writing Challenge Entry
In 3000 words or less, tell a story about a teenaged boy that has prophetic dreams. What happens when he can't wake up from one of the dreams?

Title:  "By A Nose"Michael W. Holman
Brent Larson groaned while in his semi-conscious state and rolled over in his effort to get away from the stench that permeated his dorm room at the Intrepid Academy.  He was reluctant to be brought back to his mundane world of monotone lectures when he was in the middle of a dream where he was about to rescue the Academy's most beautiful substitute teacher, Miss Olesen, from 30-foot logs that rolled down a hill from a jackknifed truck accident.  Besides, it had been agreed that one of the Sandman Project technicians would wake him by remote notification when it was time for his day to start, not some putrid smell he would not subject an attacking feral dog to.  Alas, rolling over in his bunk didn't work.  Ditto his thick-blanket-to-the-face maneuver.
"Okay, this is just stupid," he said as he sprung up and, annoyed, put his foot gear on.  He had slept in his more worn out street clothes since a "suspicious parcel" incident during his freshman year had led to a full evacuation of the entire campus two years before.  It was that 2:35 AM adventure, caused by what turned out to be a homeless person's collection of pudding mix boxes with a manual-wind clock inside a Glad trash sack left forgotten by a utility shed, which prompted Brent to keep his socks on in the colder months and his Nikes ready for action.
"If you're referring to our current circumstances in which your smitten girlfriend has managed to burn her popcorn in the break area's microwave oven again, we're in agreement," George Lopez declared with a quick look up from his studies at the table they shared.  Brent's roommate adjusted his wire rim glasses and focused again on his laptop as he added, "Going into a common area out of uniform on a weekday morning also qualifies as stupid, by the way, since the Enforcer is on duty for this rotation.  That's just my opinion."
"You're always ready to grace everyone with your opinion, Lopes, that's why I pray every night you and the Enforcer will never again be allowed to have a debate during Public Forums that fall on Mondays.  You should just ask her out and get your business handled.  Who knows, maybe she'll let you drive her broom."
Brent finished tying his shoes and began to walk for the door, which had been opened by Miss Enford, also known as the Enforcer, when she made her building rounds that always commenced promptly at 6:45 AM on weekdays.
"Students can't date faculty," he heard George point out uselessly behind him as he left.  "And she drives a black Jaguar.  It even still has its United Kingdom plates."
"As if I care," Brent muttered.
 He took the concrete steps two at a time up to the fourth floor, which was co-ed, and, unfortunately, where the extra crispy popcorn smell originated from.  His roommate could be a massive pain at times, but he had been spot-on so far as where ground zero was for the disaster site.  Many of his classmates walked around with washrags held over their lower faces, and some in the break/dining area had irritated eyes, too.  That included Cassandra Tilley, the pretty junior he had retrieved a scarf out of an oak tree for after a wind gust within an hour of their Freshman Orientation. 
 She had left smiley faces on Sticky Notes for him on the Larson/Lopez whiteboard mounted on their dorm's door ever since, hence his roommate's "smitten girlfriend" remark.  It wasn't like that.  Cassandra and some David guy who went to one of Lake Oswego's high schools were an item, as anyone on Intrepid Academy's campus knew who didn't have trivia from every continent on the planet vying for prominence with lecture notes from the past three years in their brains.
Brent realized he had actually done well in the roommate sweepstakes as he made his way to where Cassandra and a few of her friends tried to munch on snacks without coughing in the remnant burned food haze.  For all his quirks, George was all right.  He didn't try to stash contraband, such as recreational drugs or booze, and if he did listen to his 1960's vintage pop music, he was good about using headphones.
"Hey, here's one of my favorite morning crews," he hailed the girls cheerfully as he took a seat at their table across from Cassandra.  "Please tell me George is wrong for once, and it was someone else who burned the popcorn, Cass," he mumbled quietly.
She just looked at him with a remorseful expression, and he wondered if her red eyes had to do with the haze or the fact she had caused it.
"Aw heck," he sighed, and crossed the room to get a box of tissues, which he put in front of her when he returned.  "Never heat popcorn in that particular microwave using the button which says 'popcorn' my friend.  You're lucky the Enforcer wasn't here when it happened.  She would have chewed you out in front of everyone, after she made us all evacuate the building and stand around in the deep freeze outside."
"Very lucky," Cassandra agreed as she nodded.  "And I appreciate your keeping your voice down the way you did when you asked about who did it so people don't get mad at me."  Her dark, long hair swung as she looked out at the campus below their table's window.  "Where do you suppose she is?"
"Oh, Enford probably finished her rounds early," he mused aloud, and didn't notice the others had stiffened.  "Ha, I wouldn't be surprised if the witch is zipping her skinny butt around campus side saddle on her broom.  Nah, that's not fair of me.  She's too pretty to be a witch.  I heard the cougar actually has a Jaguar.  Is that appropriate for our fave British blonde or what?."  He noticed Cassandra and her friends had all gone pale.  "She's standing right behind me, I reckon."
"Good reckoning, Mister Larson.  Although I'm flattered you find me pretty, and as amused as I am about your speculation regarding my personal transport vehicle's make, I'm afraid you must trade this social confab of yours for the Applied Science Wing," Miss Enford said as she looked with raised eyebrows at what he wore.  "Miss Olesen would have been the designated faculty member to escort you there, but she rang in to say her arrival will be delayed because of a traffic accident.  At any rate, you are to proceed to your assigned lab quarters as is.  For you alone, the Academy's uniform rules have been waived temporarily.  Come on, then."
"Is it okay if Cassandra comes with us?  Her first class is Biology Prep, after all."
"Very well.  But we shan't dally about on the way there." 
Brent gave a low whistle as they headed for a cluster of single story buildings set apart from all other structures.
"Whoa, the only other time I've seen this many security guards walking the campus was after our bomb scare.  By the way, did Miss Olesen mention if Oregon State Police responded to that jack-knifed log truck accident on Interstate 5?"
He wanted to see if the campus' most stern disciplinarian would react, and he wasn't disappointed.
"Did you go online to find out about that?" she demanded as they arrived at the Applied Science Building.  "It's a violation of Academy guidelines to use campus time for non-study searches."
"Do you want to drop by my dorm room and check out my laptop?" Brent shrugged his shoulders.  "Be my guest.  George will be thrilled to see you, Miss Enford.  I think you're pretty, but he thinks you're beautiful.  If either of you want munchies, there's vending machines in here."
He nodded to the seated security guard, then gave the indignant, tight-lipped English woman and his amused friend a casual wave as he went down the building's wide central corridor.
"Let's go, Larson!  What did you do, get here by way of Australia?" an exasperated technician asked and gestured impatiently at a turned-down bed beside electronics equipment.  "Move!  What, do you think you're an undercover $25 million secret counter intelligence asset so you can stand around twiddling your thumbs?  Wake up and smell the coffee!"
"You need to lay off the coffee," Brent retorted as he sat on the bed to remove his shoes.  "I can never get to my deep sleep stage if you're yapping in my ear like some terrier, Steve."
"It's Scott, as I've told you umpteen times.  Lay down.  You know where these go by now, right?"
"Sure thing, Boss.  Let's do this," Brent looked around the sterile room as he applied two lead wires high on his forehead.  "Hey, your posse hasn't installed a nightlight in here yet.  I am appalled."
"You are a jackass.  Can you be serious for any length of time at all?"
"I dunno, I don't remember.  You would have to ask Dad about that."
Scott sighed heavily before he spoke again.
"Your dad saved my bacon three times while we were deployed in Iraq.  He and your mom are both salt-of-the-Earth people.  You're a good kid.  I get rather harsh sometimes because it's not one of your big toenails we're working with in here, it's your brain.  If I mess something up, you're a vegetable."
"I may be bad with names sometimes, but I'm with it enough to know you don't mess up.  Ever.  We've got this."
Brent offered his right hand, and Scott shook it earnestly before the teenager settled beneath a few plain white blankets.
"Okay.  See you in a few hours, Larson."
Not quite seven minutes later, Scott gestured toward his computer monitor's screen to a subordinate technician.
"Wow, he's already sawing logs in there.  I guess he didn't get enough sleep last night."
"Look at his rapid eye movement statistics.  Where ever he is in the land of Nod, ten bucks says it's not exactly tranquil," the female intern remarked.  "And his pulse is still within the green range, but it's starting to flirt with the yellow zone, sir."
"Roger that.  Keep a sharp look out.  We'll abort this session if necessary."
Meanwhile, Brent found himself hiking on the sidewalk of a wide street.  There was an intersection with a side avenue that sloped upwards at a steep angle about a football field's length ahead.  He looked around at several surrounding buildings and realized where he was as heavy snow began to fall on the frozen ground and began to accumulate rapidly.  He realized the drifted snow represented elapsed time.  
"That's the intersection of Commercial and Ewald ahead, one of Salem's most dangerous spots in the winter," he told a tiger stripe cat which peered at him from under a nearby concrete birdbath.  "It's a good thing no one is trying to drive out here now.  There's ice under this snow on Commercial, and Ewald has to be just ridiculous."
That's when he saw a black Jaguar with a foreign license plate mounted in back headed south on Commercial, its cautious driver using the far right lane while a furniture truck gathered momentum as it came down Ewald.  The British luxury car got T-boned, and all he could do was watch.
"No!  Miss Enford, hang on!" he yelled and began to run, but he could not get any traction under his feet.
"Sir, Brent's pulse is 135 and climbing!  It's in the red zone," the intern said sharply and pointed urgently at Scott's monitor to get his attention away from another chart's data he examined.
"This session's terminated!  Wake him up!  Get him out of there!  Now!"
The dream repeated itself again.  Then again.
"Sir, the leads have malfunctioned.  I can't rouse him, and his pulse rate is going north of 150 beats per minute!"
Scott cussed in frustration and sprang out of his chair.
Before he could reach the lab room's partially ajar door, a horrid smell so bad it stung his eyes stopped him in his tracks.
"Marvelous.  Someone burns their popcorn now?  Really?" he sputtered, incredulous.
Brent woke up as he coughed violently.
"His pulse is returning to its normal green range, sir," the intern said, relieved, as she pinched her nostrils shut.
The teen dreamer rolled off the lab's bed and scrambled out to them in his stocking feet so wildly his right shoulder slammed into a wall.
"Scott, get Administration on the phone!  Tell them to contact Miss Enford and get her over here!  I don't know where she is on campus and  I've gotta talk to her!  Tell them it's important!"
One look in his eyes and the technician had no question about how serious his Army buddy's son was anymore.
"I read you.  Hang on."
In less than a minute, the boy and the intern watched Scott's eyebrows raise as he concluded his call with "Um, okay, I'll pass that on, thanks."
"Pass what on?" Brent fumed.  It was his turn to be impatient.
"They told me she was last seen coming this way with you.  As far as anyone knows, she never left this building."
Before Scott had finished his second sentence, Brent sprinted for the lobby, where he saw the no-nonsense English woman open one window while an obviously sheepish Cassandra sprung the latch of another, just before he bashed his left shin into a coffee table and landed in a sprawl after he crashed into the leather cushions of a long sofa.
"Egad!" Miss Enford exclaimed and walked over to him quickly, his friend right behind her.  "Right, then, let's have a look at your poor leg, you daft oaf.  Surely someone taught you not to careen about indoors like a drunken ostrich by now, I should think."
Cassandra gasped at the sight of Brent's five-inch red welt, but he could not have cared less in his desperation to get his message understood by the intended receiver.
"Miss Enford, please don't use Commercial Street when you leave campus tonight!" Brent almost shouted.  "Use some other way!  You've got to, for your own safety!"
"What?" she asked in a stunned whisper as Scott and his intern joined the trio.
"Sabrina, my advice is that you listen to this student," the technician told her firmly.  "He's a rare boy with a very specific dual gift.  Not only does he have prophetic dreams, he knows how to interpret them.  His accuracy rating is 98% according to our data we've compiled since he started here at Intrepid Academy as a freshman."
"Earlier this morning in my dorm, I dreamed Miss Olesen ran on a driveway below I-5 as a bunch of logs tumbled down an embankment toward her," Brent explained.  "But her feet were not making contact with the ground, and her Lady Nikes had tire treads instead of soles, so I knew in the real world she was driving near Eugene, known as 'Track Town USA' when she saw the log truck had jack-knifed and caused the traffic jam she got stuck in."
"I didn't take her call myself, but yes, that's where I heard the trouble was," Miss Enford recalled.  "Incredible."
Brent paused before he continued.
"Just a few minutes ago, in the lab, I had a recurring dream where a furniture truck's driver lost control of his rig on Ewald Avenue because of icy snow and smashed into the side of your Jaguar as you drove in the right lane of Commercial Street, in south Salem.  I tried to run and get to the accident to help you, but my feet had no traction.  It was way too real, too vivid, and it wouldn't quit."  He gestured outdoors with a sweep of his right arm.  "Look what's started to come out of the sky."
A few snowflakes drifted into the lobby, let in by the half-opened windows.
"I guess we can close up again," Cassandra ventured.  "The bad smell I caused by burning another packet of microwave popcorn is gone.  I'm sorry, everyone.  That was stupid."
Scott shook his head somberly.
"Actually, your mistake may have saved your friend's life.  He couldn't wake up from a very bad prophetic dream on his own, nor could my assistant and I bring him to consciousness with our equipment while his pulse rate began to go off the charts."
"So our poor drunk ostrich was awakened in the nick of time by way of a scorched snack," Miss Enford mused aloud.  "Jolly good.  Oh, and thank you, Mister Larson."
"Sure thing, you're welcome," Brent nodded, then smiled at Cassandra.  "One could say I outran serious trouble by a nose." 
***THE END***

Angel Hands **Cover Reveal**

Angel Hands **Cover Reveal**

Today Write Like a Wizard features Cait Reynold's cover reveal of Angel Hands. Not only is she hilarious, talented, and super sweet, but she is a fellow Fabulous Fictionista! Enjoy the synopsis and cover reveal, and don't forget to pre-order today!

Sometimes, it is best to begin at the end. 

Angel Hands, by Cait Reynolds, begins at the end of The Phantom of the Opera, revealing, for the first time, the true story behind Leroux’s fantastical tale and the real fate of the Phantom himself. 


When the Opera de Paris is purchased and renovated, years after a mysterious fire nearly destroyed it, the Phantom finds himself unexpectedly resurrected - in the form of a young boy hired by the manager’s daughter to play pranks on the cast, crew, and audience. After all, the return of the infamous “Opera Ghost” can only be good for ticket sales, and Mireille Dubienne is determined to see her father’s investment become profitable. 


Plain, shrewd, and proud, Mireille pours the rage of her disappointed hopes and looming spinsterhood into helping her father manage the Opera de Paris and making it a success. 


What she doesn’t count on is the real “Opera Ghost” deciding he no longer wishes to be an
understudy in his own domain, the theater that Mireille believes is hers. 


The Phantom and Mireille push each other to the limits of their cunning to control and manipulate each other, with no game too low to play. With each passing day, the stakes get higher, until surrender is no longer an option for the Phantom or Mireille. 


Every trick and betrayal drives them toward a startling truth that will change more than one life forever: you can’t love what you hate…but you can desire it. 




You can pre-order it here - and it's free on Kindle Unlimited!
http://amzn.to/1PpthAP

Cait Reynolds Bio:
Cait Reynolds lives in Boston area with her husband and 4-legged fur child. She discovered her passion for writing early and has bugged her family and friends with it ever since. When she isn’t cooking delicious meals, running around the city, rock climbing like a boss, or enjoying the rooftop deck that brings her closer to the stars, she writes. Reynolds is able to pull from real life experiences such as her kidney transplant, and her writing reflects her passion for life from having to face the darkest places and find the will to laugh.
Connect with Cait ReynoldsWeb: http://caitreynolds.comTwitter: http://www.twitter.com.caitreynoldsTumblr: http://caitreylove.tumblr.comFacebook: http://www.facebook.com/caitreynolds