R.C. Woods's Blog

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails.”

Go find yourself!

I believe it is essential, especially with the way the world is today, that we take a step back from all that is happening in our lives and catch our breath. It's easy to get hooked in the drama, and we all have a voice we want heard, but you can't seem to scream loudly enough for anyone to hear it.

Instead of allowing frustration to rule, ease away from the intensity (social media, new outlets, ect) and find your peace of mind. I know it isn't easy, and I'm struggling with it every single day, but we have to do this. We have to find ourselves again.

Whatever you have to do to get that person back, I suggest that now is the time to seek the solution. Look for her/him in the things you once loved to do, or in the places you once loved to visit. It may appear more of a challenge than you think possible, but it will be worth it.
Good luck.

Stone

The truth was, Mathews already hated him. Drudging up that experience, in particular, would only add fuel to the fire.
Young and headstrong, it was his fourth field assignment that delivered the scar he would wear for the rest of his life, the creature who gave it to him, a fiend so frightening he would never forget its face.
His team had split up to search for a reported rogue in the forests near Castine, Maine. Being the cocky young officer who was quickly advancing in his career, he elected to go on alone while the other officers remained in pairs due to issues of safety. He had followed what he thought was the rogue's trail, but hell rained down before he could discover its hiding place.
A disturbance in the trees above had drawn his attention upward, limbs violently shaking while leaves fell in showers to the ground around him. Moments later, Grayson was confident that the devil himself materialized directly in front of him.
The creature was massive, two times Grayson's height with wings stretching from its back. Sickly pale gray skin covered its body, its mouth full of sharp jagged teeth and red eyes that bore into Grayson's soul. It emitted an ear-shattering screech as long clawed fingers reached for him.
Frantic, Grayson's eyes widened, he fumbled for the pistol on his belt, but the creature's hand swept it from his grasp. It landed yards away, and he stood defenseless, panic ripping through his body. The only thing left to do was run, so he did, his heart thundering in his ears, ragged hysterical breath tearing through his lungs and throat.
The devil creature followed, slicing through the air with a sweep of deadly nails as it pursued him, shrieking with fury. Grayson couldn't outrun it. Hot searing pain shot through his back as the talons penetrated his skin, ripping through bone and flesh. He gasped for air, agony driving darkness into his eyes. As he fell into a heap on the ground, he remembered the texture of the leaves beneath his fingers, crunchy and dead, as dead as he would be soon.
When he awoke, he was in the hospital on his stomach, tubes protruding from his arms, his mind fuzzy. Once his vision cleared, he found Captain Hale at his bedside, his face grave. He never told the Captain the actual story, just that he had been attacked.
What happened to Grayson years before had nothing to do with Mathews, at least not then. Their mission together before he left on his sabbatical brought back the terrible memories when he was once again face to face with the monster who scarred his body and mind years earlier.
Dayne Walker was a Were, just like him, had once been an Eliminator, just like him, but it was there the similarities ended. Inside the man lived a creature whose murderous tendencies nearly killed Grayson, a demon so vile and one who used Dayne's body as a shield to survive. It was an unbelievable account and one that Grayson never revealed later in his reports after the mission was complete. To save sounding like a maniac telling ridiculous stories, he would never breathe a word to anyone about Dayne's demon. Mathews was the only other living soul who knew.

Erik & Sydney

If you've read 'I Had Him' and 'Dayne's Demon', you already know a bit about Erik Kosnov. As you may have learned, Erik is a gentleman nearly to a fault. He has high expectations, ambitions, and his honor is of the utmost importance. The next book will explore his history, his future, his feelings for Alana, and how  Sydney Dionisio fits into his world. You'll discover who she is, where she comes from, and what drives her to take the extreme action she does in 'Dayne's Demon'.
But don't worry, I'm not finished with Alana and Grayson Stone just yet. Their book will come after Sydney's story.

   “Erik,” Anton spoke with exasperation. “You must choose.” He stepped forward and spread the pictures out with his index finger. “Certainly one of these females must strike your fancy.”
     With a low growl in his throat, Erik ran his hands through his blonde hair. “I can’t. None appeal to me.”
     “Then I will choose for you.”
    With that, Anton flipped through the photographs until his eyes settled on one. Picking it up, he flipped it over in his hand.
“Sydney Dionisio, Red Lake pack, Minnesota. I’ll make arrangements to travel there in two days. Be packed and ready.” He tossed the picture down on top of the pile and walked away.
     With a brooding stare and shake of his head, Erik glanced at the photo of Sydney Dionisio. She looked nothing like Alana Mathews.

April 18th, 2017

Perhaps a few of you know where this is and if not, maybe you should visit. (Woodlock Cemetery, Davisville, MO) At first glance, it seems a little creepy, but once you understand, it isn't creepy at all. I think that's the way with everything in life. We get confused and disappointed in people because we don't understand them. We create false images of who they really are and what they're about because we don't know any better. Most often, we don't care enough to look for the person underneath and learn who they are and what drives them. Just like this old cemetery...you need to hear people's stories before you can really understand.

Time to expand

The road isn't always an easy one to travel. We sometimes find ourselves lost along the way and wondering what's next. Don't be distracted from your course. You know where you're going and what you need to do. If you can't find answers where you're looking, it's time to look elsewhere.

Two long years.......

Wow. It's been almost two years since I've made a blog post. Well, I am going to try to remedy that little
issue! This is the area where I will post my random thoughts on random subjects. Sometimes I will post little tidbits from my books, or perhaps review another author's book. Regardless, I hope you have time the check it out!

And who might you be?

        As the woman turned, Shane's hand tightened on mine, his expression lost somewhere between alarm and disbelief. His jaw falling slack, his lips parted to allow a gasp of air to escape. Under the increased pressure of his fingers, my hand started to ache and I jerked it away.
       He didn't seem to notice.
        I didn't understand his response to the woman. Although she looked slightly familiar, she didn't appear to be anyone significant. Her side profile didn't mean much to me, just an average woman with ordinary dark brown hair.  Absorbed in her own conversation, she inadvertently tilted her face in my direction. It was only then that I grasped the reason for Shane's reaction.
        The beginning of my life could be found assembled in pictures along the outside hallway wall of Dad's room. Some in full color while others black and white with only the lingering brilliant green of my mother's eyes to disrupt the gray-scale shades.  This woman's eyes were the same rich shade matching the forest in summer, tiny flecks of golden yellow catching the light and drawing out the darker hue. While I had only the memory of those photographs to compare the resemblance of my mother to this woman, Shane's heart remembered much more.
      Unmistakable pain crossed through his face and his eyes glistened with fresh moisture. Placing his hand on my shoulder, he gently urged me in a different direction, away from where she stood.

And who might you be?

        As the woman turned, Shane's hand tightened on mine, his expression lost somewhere between alarm and disbelief. His jaw falling slack, his lips parted to allow a gasp of air to escape. Under the increased pressure of his fingers, my hand started to ache and I jerked it away.
       He didn't seem to notice.
        I didn't understand his response to the woman. Although she looked slightly familiar, she didn't appear to be anyone significant. Her side profile didn't mean much to me, just an average woman with ordinary dark brown hair.  Absorbed in her own conversation, she inadvertently tilted her face in my direction. It was only then that I grasped the reason for Shane's reaction.
        The beginning of my life could be found assembled in pictures along the outside hallway wall of Dad's room. Some in full color while others black and white with only the lingering brilliant green of my mother's eyes to disrupt the gray-scale shades.  This woman's eyes were the same rich shade matching the forest in summer, tiny flecks of golden yellow catching the light and drawing out the darker hue. While I had only the memory of those photographs to compare the resemblance of my mother to this woman, Shane's heart remembered much more.
      Unmistakable pain crossed through his face and his eyes glistened with fresh moisture. Placing his hand on my shoulder, he gently urged me in a different direction, away from where she stood.

No muscly men this time...

      "You're going to need to relax," he lightly teased. "I won't bite. Not hard, anyway."
      He stood before her, staring into her warm brown eyes for a moment before he lifted his hand to her hair, pushing it off her shoulder to reveal the full left side of her neck.
      She inhaled sharply and Jeremy felt her body stiffen.
     Leaning in, he brushed a light kiss next to her ear. "Relax," he whispered before pulling back, letting his hand leisurely trail down the length of her side and hip as he kneeled in front of her. As his fingers skimmed the bare skin of her knee and shin, he felt his pulse quicken. 
     Looking up, he met her eyes, "Your shoes."
     Lifting each foot as he prompted, he removed one heel and then the other. Pausing to admire the red leather, he fingered the intricate detailing across the toe. He appreciated a good pair of red stilettos and the results to a woman's backside from wearing them.