C.D. Hersh's Blog, page 147
April 25, 2016
Tell Again Tuesday Writer’s Block
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
Combat Your Writer’s Block – 10 Tips
Posted on March 18, 2016 by Joanne Guidoccio
I’m thrilled to welcome Soul Mate author Kim Hotzon to the Power of 10 series. Today, Kim shares her best tips for combating writer’s block and her latest novel, Hands Full of Ashes.
Here’s Kim!
All writers, from time to time, experience the dreaded block. I’m not referring to the chopping block (though it may as well be) but rather ‘writer’s block’. This is a condition otherwise known as . . .
For the rest of the blog go to:
http://joanneguidoccio.com/2016/03/18/combat-your-writers-block-10-tips/
April 21, 2016
Friday Features Annalisa Carr Children of Poseidon
Today
Annalisa Carr
The author shares with us the experience that gave her the inspiration for her “Children of Poseidon” trilogy and the characters that populate the stories. Read on for the story behind the story.
Welcome fantasy romance author Annalisa Carr.
I’m working on the third and last book in my ‘Children of Poseidon’ trilogy at the moment, telling the story of Damnamenos, the youngest of the Sealords, and the villain of the first story. The second book ‘Children of Poseidon: Rann’ came out last summer.
The trilogy started when I wrote a short story (about NeiroKeto, an octopus) in aid of a conservation charity, at the same time as doing an open water swim in aid of ‘The British Heart Foundation’. The water was rough and I was pretty battered when I made it to shore. I loved the sea though, and had to write about the experience which had been both frightening, inspiring, and an exploit not to be wasted. That was how my first heroine appeared.
Lila jumped overboard from a pirate ship, in order to escape her kidnappers and rescue her sister. She was washed to the shore of a remote Scottish island, where she encountered Lykos, the eldest of the sons of Poseidon.
I already knew I would have to tell the story of Rann, Lykos’s half-brother and closest friend, but I initially expected him to fall in love with Lila’s sister, powerful coven witch, Maya. Rann had his own ideas, though. Jewel, Maya’s best friend, captured his heart and pushed him out of his comfort zone.
Rann is pretty much a laid–back sort of demi-god. His life is organised to his satisfaction, his servants anticipate his every wish, and his deep-sea subjects wouldn’t dream of defying him. His previous lovers have been as easy-going as himself, but Jewel won’t fit into this comfortable pattern. She runs away from their mutual attraction when she learns that her mother is causing big problems for London’s witches.
Jewel returns to London and walks into a life-threatening situation. Rann leaves his home in The Indian Ocean, and follows her, arriving just in time to come to her aid.
I’ve vicariously visited lots of exciting places during the writing of these books, places such as the far north of Scotland, Zanzibar, Jersey and Somalia, and I’m now looking for the next place I’d like to visit (in my writing, if not in real life).
Blurb
Annalisa Carr’s most recent release is the second book in her ‘Sons of the Sea God’ trilogy:
Children of Poseidon: Rann
Poseidon’s son Rann has been content to rule his island paradise for centuries, but now something dangerous is stirring in his seas. A dark web of evil spreads from the horn of Africa to the covens of London.
A call for help from her old coven gives young witch Jewel a reason to leave her island home and her crush on Rann, and hurry back to London where old crimes are rising to disturb the city’s magic community.
The past is about to collide with Jewel’s present and threaten her future with something far more lethal than unrequited love.
Bio
An addiction to science fiction meant that Annalisa Carr chose to pursue a career in research, spending most of her life working as a scientist in Cambridge, UK. Unfortunately, given the reason for her career choice, she never made it into space and has never been to Alpha Centauri IV.
Two years ago she moved to the English Lake District where she shares a house with her three cats, and indulges her need to explore alien cultures by writing about them.
She writes (and reads voraciously) in several genres, her favourites being urban fantasy, paranormal romance and science fiction. She is currently working on her third book in her ‘Children of Poseidon’ trilogy.
Excerpt
Rann strolled towards them, brown skin brightened by the afternoon sun to the shade of butterscotch. A hint of weariness slowed his normal stride, but he brought with him the fresh scent of open water. His expression was thoughtful, and Jewel pushed herself to her feet as he approached, her whole body warming with pleasure.
“Is everything okay?”
Worry passed over his face, vanishing almost before she recognised it. “I think we’ve got a problem.” Reaching out, he tucked Jewel’s hair behind her ear.
“Is there anything . . .?”
“I’m not sure what’s going on.” He rubbed his forehead. “The merpeople found a dead mermaid out in the deep water.”
A frisson of shock ran down Jewel’s spine. Mermaids didn’t die. When the time came for their long existence to end, they merged with the sea, became one with the foam on the waves.
“Was she . . .?”
“A stranger. I don’t know where she came from. Tomorrow she’ll be returned to the sea and I’ll try to find out what happened. I just wish I knew where to look.” He pushed a lock of damp black hair away from his face and glanced back at the sea.
“If there’s anything—” Jewel broke off as Tamsin grabbed her wrist, fingers digging into the skin. “Ow.”
“There’s a connection.” Tamsin’s eyes rolled upwards until only the whites were visible.
Her hand was icy, and Jewel pulled herself free. “Tamsin? What . . .?”
“Everything is tied together by death.” Her eyes rolled back, blank and unfocussed. Moving like a sleepwalker, she disappeared into the darkness of the house.
“What on earth is she talking about?” Rann watched her go.
“I don’t know.” Jewel rubbed the goose pimples on her arms. She didn’t like Tamsin’s death visions at all. “She’s been having dreams.”
Links
Amazon: http://amzn.com/B012P8C35O
Website: http://www.annalisacarr.com/
Twitter: @Cleanne2
April 19, 2016
Wednesday Special Spotlight Hearts Unloched Claire Gem
Focuses on
Erato Publishing Released – 04.01.16:
A psychic interior designer reluctantly agrees to renovate a sexy investor’s abandoned hotel on a lake rumored to have once been the mob’s body dumping ground.
Interior designer Kate Bardach loves her single girl’s lifestyle—living in Manhattan and spending weekends at her lake house. She’s passionate about her career, reinventing old buildings. But there are some projects she can’t take on because of the spirits trapped there. Kate is psychic—she sees dead people.
Marco Lareci is one of Wall Street’s most successful investment brokers who’s achieved all of his life’s goals—except for finding his soulmate. His latest project, an abandoned resort on Loch Sheldrake, needs a savvy designer to transform the crumbling complex into a boutique hotel. When Marco meets Kate, he can’t believe his luck. She’s the perfect match for his business and his heart.
Marco’s body excites Kate even more than does his renovation project. But the haunting there, a bonafide poltergeist, affects her on an intensely personal level. Kate’s aunt disappeared from the place fifty years ago.
Will the spirit doom Kate and Marco’s love, or drive them closer together?
Excerpt:
Montlake’s Underground Bar, a usually dark and smoky private lounge off the west end of the casino, was as abandoned as the grandstands had been. Marco knew the main bar, Trackside, would still be closed this early in the season. But thank God the Underground was open. When he arrived few hours earlier, he hadn’t eaten anything since he left Manhattan. He’d grabbed a really fine Reuben sandwich and Devil’s Path IPA there when he’d rolled into town two hours ago to meet Joshua Lieberman. The realtor who’d been handling his purchase of the defunct Redman’s Resort.
He held open the heavy glass door—bulletproof Plexiglass, by the looks of it—and Kate pranced through like she owned the whole place, instead of just the mare whose win he’d won two bills on. Her hair fell in ebony waves down her back, nearly reaching her wasp-like waist.
Yeah, he thought. She was all tan and black with the coat and the hair. Add to that the confidence—an almost haughty air—and the slightly nasal ring to her velvet voice. She really did bring to mind a wasp.
Might want to watch my step around this one.
The lady wasn’t the booth type. Heading straight for the bar, she hung her huge, leather bag on the hook underneath and climbed onto the barstool before he’d even had a chance to help her. Neither had said a word as they’d made their way down the escalator to the subterranean space under Montlake’s recently refurbished grandstand.
“Hello, Zach. I’ll have my usual. And make it a double. I’m celebrating today,” she said to the barkeep, who’d paused from polishing glassware when they came in.
“All right, Ms. Bardach. Hey,” he said as he pointed one thumb over his shoulder at the monitor. He gave her a high-five. “Nice going. This the three-year-old gray?”
“Yup,” Kate nodded slowly, the corner of her mouth turning up. “She was well worth waiting for.”
The bartender was a mature man with a salt-and-pepper crewcut and the face of a man too smooth and pretty to be anything but gay. After ignoring Marco’s existence for the first sixty seconds of their arrival, he now turned to greet him with a nod as he flipped coasters down on the bar.
“And for you, Mr. Lareci? Another IPA?”
Marco caught the slight turn of his companion’s head and lifted eyebrow in his peripheral view.
“No, I’ll take a Dewar’s on the rocks this time. Thanks.”
When Zach turned to do his job, Kate shifted in her padded stool and leaned her chin on her hand. “So, this isn’t your first pony ride at the Underground? No pun intended.”
Buy Link: http://amzn.com/B01DN099U0
Bio:
Claire Gem turns the paranormal genre on its ear by combining the elements of gothic horror, mystery/thriller, and contemporary romance into a genre she calls New Gothic.
Claire loves ghost stories, and has done her homework when it comes to exploring the world of paranormal phenomena. She holds her certificate in Parapsychology from Duke University’s Rhine Institute of Paranormal Studies. Her obsession with cemeteries, a severe case of taphophilia, has served her well—some of her best stories were born while exploring an old graveyard. She also loves abandoned places—asylums, crumbling hotels, places far out in the woods where only the fairies dare to venture.
Although she most definitely believes in ghosts, she doesn’t suffer from nightmares. They are simply midnight musings for her next gothic novel.
Website Facebook Twitter Goodreads Amazon Author Page Pinterest
April 17, 2016
Tell Again Tuesday Bluestocking Belles
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
Highlighting Historical Romance: The Bluestocking Belles
You’ve probably heard me talk about The Bluestocking Belles. Jude Knight wrote this excellent history and explanation of the name we’ve chosen as our own.
Readers of historical romances, especially those set in Georgian and Regency England, are familiar with the term ‘bluestocking’. A woman described as a bluestocking will be clever, fond of reading, interested in more than fashion and social gossip, and perhaps radical in her opinions about the education and rights of women.
Few, though, know where the term started. What do blue stockings have to do with educated women?
For the rest of the blog go to:
http://www.carolinewarfield.com/2016/03/highlighting-historical-romance-the-bluestocking-belles/
April 14, 2016
Friday Features The Dragon Chronicles Book 3: Healing D.R. Grady
Welcomes
The Dragon Chronicles Book 3: Healing
by
D.R. Grady
Today we have D.R. Grady with us to share the background of her Dragon Chronicles. The series sounds very interesting and without further interruption here is D.R.
The Dragon Chronicles series comprises three books, with a different couple per book. It wasn’t always set up this way. When I first started this series, the intention was for five books, all in the point of view of the dragon and her controller. The plan was for the other characters to play secondary roles throughout the five book arc.
Imagine my surprise when an editor I queried informed me those types of series don’t sell and a trusted editorial friend verified her statement. During a period of devastation based on this information, I had to rethink the entire series. Since I already had the two other couples in place, I changed the concept to the three part series with each of the three couples getting their own book. You still see plenty of these characters throughout the series, as I’m a serial writer and nosy. (I need to know what happens to previous characters!) These six characters play a major role in the outcome of the book, and it’s fun to see their interactions throughout the series.
This book, The Dragon Chronicles Book 3: Healing is the conclusion of the series. All six main characters are present, as well as a bevy of additional, and interesting, ones.
In this final book, two powerful healers, Ewain and Marissa set sparks off each other, while all three couples learn more about themselves and their abilities. Lindy and Alex, the dragon and her dragon controller, with the help of Ewain and Marissa, and their fellow Healer Keely and her alpha mate, Hugh, must combat a force so negative it leaves a path of destruction akin to several natural disasters.
The Dragon Chronicles Book 3: Healing is available now!
Blurb:
Healers Ewain Douglass and Marissa Mays work and live in close confines. Too bad they set sparks off each other. They struggle to remain civil and professional, until the enemy targets Marissa.
Meanwhile, the dragon and her controller are still learning all can about their abilities. The dragon has called her allies together to face a war for their very lives. Ewain and Marissa don’t have time to declare war on each other.
Excerpt:
“I’m fine.” Marissa held up a hand as she set the finished infusion on the bench to cool.
Ewain stalked across the lab, his eyes never leaving her. “You nearly died.”
A long sigh escaped but then he caught her up in his arms, holding her too tight. She stiffened briefly, but it was nice here. His rigid muscles eased after a few heartbeats. He breathed in as though smelling her hair then his hand tunneled into it.
“Bad session with Phil?” Keeping her voice at a murmur shouldn’t rile him up.
“The latest nightmare I had was about you.” His voice sounded raw.
She stilled. “I thought your nightmares were all related to the dragon. And Lindy.”
“The first two related to them. But this latest bad dream was about you.”
Pulling away from him, she peered into his face. “What happened?”
“The enemy wanted you and I prevented him from taking you.”
“How do you know it was me?”
“I didn’t. Phil did.”
He sucked in a long, shaky breath she felt. Leaning back, she cupped his face. “Ewain, what’s wrong?”
“I woke before I knew whether I saved her.” Anguish threaded his bleak whisper.
Her mind blanked for the space of several inhalations, before she caught on. “You didn’t know if you saved this woman?”
He swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “No. It drove me crazy, but then Phil assured me I did thwart the enemy’s attempt on you.” He swallowed again. “Then Keely’s theory—” He left off to exhale long and loud.
“And he tried to harm me. But Ewain, the moonbeam potion and Lindy’s fyre saved me. I wasn’t tortured long. All I’m feeling is a little tired and some muscle aches now.” She cupped his face a little tighter. “I’m fine.”
Ewain didn’t say anything for several heartbeats. He just studied her with those gray eyes. Then his hand slid further into her hair and he leaned down to take her lips in a kiss that wasn’t sweet, or gentle.
She clutched his face tighter, keeping it right there, so he couldn’t end the kiss too soon. Her heart pounded, skipping beats, maybe even belting out a happy refrain.
The Dragon Chronicles Book 3: Healing is available now!
D.R. Grady lives with her husband near Hershey, PA. She adores chocolate, laughing, collecting bags, books, and shoes, and writing stories that resonate with others.
Website Twitter Amazon Author page Facebook Page Google+
April 12, 2016
Wednesday Special Spotlight Montana Rose DeAnn Smallwood
Shines on
Excerpt:
Heaviness had entered her body the moment she signed the deed to the small homestead, selling it to the owner of the ranch bordering her few acres. She adjusted the hat with the ridiculous robin perched on a nest of russet-colored leaves. It sat atop her blonde curls, a foolish attempt to thumb her nose at defeat. She may be beaten, but she was still fashionable.
Rose sniffed, taking small comfort from the defiant act and took the seat by the window. She rubbed the smudged window as the train pulled out of the station then closed her eyes, blocking out the dusty town and her dreams.
When Wisteria’s letter arrived, Rose had quickly grasped the lifeline. Rose, marvelous news. Our schoolteacher has decided to move. There’s an opening, and not only that, there’s an attached living quarters to the school. You’ll be able to maintain the independence that’s so important to you.
Rose telegraphed Wisteria her ‘yes’ and here she was sitting on a train headed for Wise River, Montana. Even though she knew nothing about being a teacher.
She stood on the station platform and looked around. No one was there to greet her. The only other people were a man and a boy, loading a rather cumbersome trunk onto a wagon.
Rose gave an intake of breath as the man’s shirt tightened across his back and muscles rippled. Her eyes were riveted as the man tipped back his black, wide-brimmed hat, and wiped his sleeve across his face. Thick, brown hair, the rich brownness of a mink’s pelt, fell across his forehead then curled on his neck, a haircut long overdue.
Rose was informed by the station master that new teacher or not, there was no one to take her to Dr. Ben McCabe’s house.
“Say, Jesse, you could take her.” The stationmaster looked past Rose.
She whirled around, surprised to see the same man who had only a few minutes ago been wrestling a trunk onto a wagon, a wagon large enough to take her and her baggage to the schoolhouse.
Relief flooded over her. “That’s wonderful. If you could load my bags, we could be on our way.”
“No.”
“No?”
Not answering, Jesse brushed past her and placed a bill of lading in front of the stationmaster. Then he turned on his heel.
“Wait,” Rose cried. “You can’t just say no and leave me standing here.”
He gave her a steely look, his hazel eyes narrowed as gold flecks darkened. He was handsome in a rugged, chiseled way. His prominent cheekbones hinted at Indian ancestry. And if the situation had been different, she would have found his face and broad shoulders worth a second look. A flicker flared in her heart. Ridiculous. The grim man standing in front of her could not possibly be the cause. He was abominable.
“Why?” he growled.
Buy Link: http://amzn.com/B01BWQ0UIM
Blurb:
Rose is a rancher at heart. There’s no doubt in her mind that if given another chance, she can make a success of homesteading. She will not fail this time.
People scoff, saying ranching is too much of a job for a lone woman to undertake. But Rose is no ordinary woman. She may be petite, stylish, and beautiful, but she is also strong and driven. Every aspect of ranching brings joy to her heart. Then why is she here in Wise River, Montana, taking orders from a mean-spirited school board and attempting something she has no clue how to do-teaching?
Jesse Rivers carries his own baggage on his wide shoulders. He’s been called home by a dying stepmother to take over the Rocking R Ranch and the care of a belligerent and wounded brother.
A rugged, lanky cowboy, Jesse is also demanding, surly, and afraid to love. No, he can’t love. What if he has buried inside him the same volatile anger as his father, resulting in brutality by strong fists or a whip?
Then Jesse meets Rose. Strong willed, outspoken, determined, and oh-so-desirable.
Buy Link: http://amzn.com/B01BWQ0UIM
April 10, 2016
Tell Again Tuesday Author Brand Building J.A. Allen
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
Author Brand Building
In the age of self-published authors, where books are everywhere, no time is too early to start thinking about how to promote ourselves.
Even if some fancy-shmancy publishing house scoops up your manuscript like the diamond in the rough it is, they’ll want to know how YOU’RE planning to contribute to the marketing.
That’s why it’s so important to build a following of people who TRUST us . . . who feel like they know us.
Blogs are a part of that. The way we present ourselves as authors is a part of that. Book covers, author tag-lines, and an easily recognizable brand are parts of that too.
Many authors write . . .
For the rest of the blog go to:
https://scribblesoncocktailnapkins.wordpress.com/2016/03/02/author-brand-building/
April 7, 2016
Friday Features The Forgotten Debutante Becky Lower
Welcomes
Becky Lower
I’ve always admired writers who are able to write scenes out of sequence. They are able to put together a scene that won’t take place for another hundred pages or so, tuck it away in a folder on their desktop, pull it out at the appropriate moment, and add it to their manuscript.
I’m a linear writer, always have been. I start at what I hope will be the beginning, and write my story. Sure, I have ideas for the big scenes yet to come, even appropriate dialogue, but I’m able to keep it in my head until I get to that portion of the story. Even during the editing process, I’m linear. After all, if I change something in the front of the book, it might affect what’s to come. My worst fear is to eliminate part of a scene up front and then leave in the part where my characters make reference to it later on in the story.
I was put to the test during edits for a recent book. My editor thought a scene I had in the story needed to be moved up by a couple chapters. It meant ripping it out of its place and seamlessly inserting it into another spot—all without having it appear out of place. And having the scene I ripped it from also appear seamless even though it was missing several hundred words. I can’t tell you how much sleep I lost while trying to figure it out. It ended up not being as painful as I’d originally thought, and several loyal readers have told me they consider it my best book yet. So maybe I can be an out-of-sequence writer after all. I’d lose a lot of sleep, but we all need to suffer for our craft, right?
One of my writer friends recently told me she ripped apart some of her story, took out thousands of hard-fought-for words and put it back together again. She said it was disjointed. As someone who’s had more dislocated joints than any one person should have had (two elbows, three hips, a shoulder), I can relate. It doesn’t matter how good the bones of your story are, if it doesn’t fit together well, it’s not going to be a good read.
Book 9 in the Cotillion Ball series, The Forgotten Debutante, will be released on April 4. Each of the books revolves around the same family, but the individual books feature one family member at a time, as they find their paths to a happy-ever-after. So dive into book 9 to start with, if you’d like.
Here’s a bit more about it:
Don’t miss the touching conclusion to the Cotillion Ball Saga!
In 1863, America is war-weary. Fifteen-year-old Saffron Fitzpatrick, whose teenage years have been spent mourning the dead rather than dancing at her debutante ball, just wants to visit her beloved horse after being housebound due to the draft riots. A chance meeting with soldier Ezekiel Boone changes everything.
Three years ago, Ezekiel ran away with his older brothers to join the war effort, welcoming the chance for adventure. But when all four of his brothers die at Chancellorsville, he retreats home, despondent and depending on the kindness of strangers, like Saffron, who help him on the journey. They share a wild ride and a breathless kiss, parting with fond memories.
Fate reunites the couple three years later, and their former attraction rekindles as they discover unexpected common ground and begin to build a relationship. But though the war is over, a future together may still elude them … especially if Saffron’s older, protective brother and the U.S. Army have anything to say about it.
And an excerpt:
New York City
July 15, 1863
Releasing a shallow breath, Saffron Fitzpatrick glided down the stairs on slippered feet, avoiding the creaky spots with unerring accuracy from years of practice. She surveyed the hallway and let out the rest of the air from her lungs. All the servants were still in the basement, preparing the noonday meal. If she hurried, she could escape the house undetected. She ran to the back door, her curls bouncing around her head, and let herself out into the yard.
Heart pounding, she stood, back up against the door, and listened. No frantic footsteps from inside the house meant her break to freedom had gone unnoticed so far.
After two days of being housebound due to the draft riots, Saffron had tired of heeding her father’s warnings to stay indoors. Even though his motives were sound and he was only trying to protect her from the roaming mobs, she would surely perish from boredom if she spent one more moment inside. Although her intent to breathe some fresh air was dashed because the city was foul with smoke from the fires being set around town, she still cherished the freedom of being outdoors. Her skin erupted in goose bumps at her boldness. She cringed back against the door as the distant shouts came closer.
But she had a mission: She needed to see Biscuit. She could certainly get from the family brownstone to the carriage house in their backyard without running into any of the rioters, couldn’t she? Talking to a horse beat staring at her bedroom ceiling. Or reading another boring book. Her intent clear, she pushed herself away from the door and ran to the small building.
She opened the door to the carriage house. Diffused lighting came through the windows near the roofline, and the cool air was filled with a familiar, comfortable combination of hay, horse dung, and leather. Saffron inhaled the scents as she waited for her eyes to become accustomed to the subdued light. Biscuit nickered a nervous greeting. She tiptoed across the brick floor toward the mare’s stall.
And came to an abrupt halt.
The apples, which Saffron kept in a bucket to dole out to the horse, were all gone. As were the carrots. Someone had been in the carriage house, and possibly still was. She backed toward the door, hoping if she were quiet, whoever was or had been in the carriage house would not notice her. She’d go back to the house and sound an alarm. Then, armed with the servants, she could return and confront whomever was here.
But Biscuit nickered again. If someone was intent on setting fire to the carriage house, Saffron needed to take her horse into the yard first, then call for the servants. She picked up a hayfork and made her way forward, her slippers not making a sound as they moved over the floor. She opened the door to the stall and found what was upsetting her horse, and the answer to why all the good treats were gone. A Union soldier was asleep in the hay next to Biscuit.
Buy Link: http://amzn.to/1V0b11r
Becky Lower Websites:
http://www.beckylowerauthor.com/
http://historyimagined.wordpress.com/
April 5, 2016
Wednesday Special Spotlight Wild Man’s Curse
Highlights
Wild Man’s Curse
(Wilds of the Bayou #1)
By
Susannah Sandlin
The bones said death was comin’, and the bones never lied.
While on an early morning patrol in the swamps of Whiskey Bayou, Louisiana wildlife agent Gentry Broussard spots a man leaving the home of voodoo priestess Eva Savoie—a man who bears a startling resemblance to his brother, whom Gentry thought he had killed during a drug raid three years earlier. Shaken, the agent enters Eva’s cabin and makes a bloody discovery: the old woman has been brutally murdered.
With no jurisdiction over the case, he’s forced to leave the investigation to the local sheriff, until Eva’s beautiful heir, Celestine, receives a series of gruesome threats. As Gentry’s involvement deepens and more victims turn up, can he untangle the secrets behind Eva’s murder and protect Celestine from the same fate? Or will an old family curse finally have its way?
From award-winning author Susannah Sandlin comes the first book in the Wilds of the Bayou series.
Excerpt:
The twenty-mile drive south from Houma led Ceelie toward a blackening sky, with cloud-to-ground lightning already streaking in the distance.
A prickly sensation crossed her shoulder blades when she finally pulled into the long drive leading to the cabin. Nothing appeared out of place at the back of the house, so her unsettled feeling could probably be blamed on the weather. The sky had turned an ugly charcoal gray; even ordinary thunderstorms could be fierce here at the bottom of the world.
She gathered her bags and papers, pushed the truck door shut with her hip and made it to the protective overhang of the wraparound porch in time to escape the first raindrops. They fell in big, fat plops, slowly at first and, within seconds, so hard that visibility dropped to two feet, max.
A faint odor of cigarette smoke hung in the thick, humid air. Intent on looking for any signs of movement in the swamp or the sign of a smoker in a boat, Ceelie rounded the corner of the porch to the front of the house and didn’t stop until something wispy brushed past her nose and cheek.
She froze a breathless second before backing up. A human skull hung from a frayed rope tied onto a hook in the porch ceiling, the dirty, worn strands of fiber woven through the eye sockets. It hung low enough for her to look the thing right in the eyes, if it had eyes. About half of its yellow teeth had been broken off. It swung toward her, propelled by the wind from the storm.
A tingle of adrenaline raced up her back and across her scalp. She did a slow one-eighty, looking for anything else out of place, and dropped her bags with a clatter when her gaze came to rest on the front door.
GO HOME, BITCH.
The words had been scrawled in red. Paint or blood, Ceelie wasn’t sure. Through the heavy curtain of rain, she scanned the bayou again. Her breath hitched at…something. A dark shadow moved through the water close to the opposite bank.
Ceelie had no intention of hanging around to see if it was an alligator or a murderer. She kicked the probate papers and groceries out of the way, grabbed her purse and the plastic bag containing the knife, and raced back to the truck, digging the keys out of her pocket along the way. Once inside, she jammed down the door locks and backed out into the highway, barely missing a tanker truck racing northbound from one of the refineries.
She had to squint to see through the rain that blew in heavy sheets against the windows. People. She needed to find people, which meant going north toward Montegut. She stopped at the first public place she reached—a convenience store and gas station.
Through the Jiffy Stop’s front windows, she could see people moving around the aisles, doing business as usual, talking, laughing. A couple of kids chased each other back and forth under the awning that stretched across the front of the store, holding their arms out into the rain and squealing when they got splashed. Around her, a few other folks sat in their cars, probably waiting for the rain to slacken.
Ceelie’s heart rate slowed, although it was still far beyond normal, a trot instead of a full-on gallop. When she pulled her phone from her purse, her hands shook so badly that she dropped it on the floorboard. A card from her wallet landed beside it: Gentry Broussard’s business card.
“Call me anytime,” the wildlife agent had said.
She didn’t give herself a chance to rationalize her fear or talk herself out of asking for help.
“Broussard.” Gentry’s deep voice stroked her panic like a reassuring hand, calming her with his casual greeting. When she didn’t answer immediately, his tone grew more clipped. “Is someone there?”
“Yes. I mean, no. Yes. It’s Ceelie Savoie.” God, her voice sounded like that of a frog and now that she had him on the line, she didn’t know where to start. “Somebody was at the cabin.”
Lame. So lame.
“First, are you in immediate danger?”
Ceelie looked around her. “No, I don’t think so.”
His voice was solid, warm, and dead calm. Her trembling slowed and the tension in her shoulders eased. “Okay, tell me what happened, Ceelie. Someone showed up at the cabin? You’re not there now, are you?”
“No, not there now.” She took a deep breath. “Somebody was at the cabin. He hung a skull, wrote on the door in blood. Maybe paint. There was cigarette smoke.” God, she was making no sense. She took another deep breath. For a woman who prided herself on her independence, she was coming across like a helpless victim. That thought was enough to help center her.
“Where are you now?” Over the phone, she heard a crunch of gravel, then the slam of a heavy door and an engine roaring to life. “I’ll come to you.”
She looked up at the sign on the front of the convenience store. “I’m at the Jiffy Stop on Highway 55 about a mile north of the cabin.”
“I’m on my way from Montegut. Sit tight.” He paused and it sounded like he took a curve fast. “Don’t go back to that cabin until I get there.”
It didn’t occur to her until she’d ended the call that she probably should’ve called the sheriff’s office rather than a game warden. But her heart knew what it knew, and it instinctively trusted Gentry Broussard. She’d have a long talk with her heart later, because those kinds of instincts could easily get her in a different kind of trouble.
Unfortunately, her heart now also admitted that whoever had tried to scare her away from the cabin would try again. Whatever had happened that led to her Tante Eva’s murder, it wasn’t over.
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April 3, 2016
Tell Again Tuesday Accounting 101 for Authors
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
Accounting 101 for Authors – Federal Taxes
Any author earning royalties or freelance writing income and paying expenses as a business should file their taxes as such—a business.
Whether it’s as a Sole proprietorship or a Limited Liability Company, the benefits from filing as such could be quite rewarding when it comes to getting a refund.
Why? . . .
For the rest of the blog go to:
http://longvalleypress.com/2016/03/02/accounting-101-for-authors-federal-taxes/
