Shiloh Walker's Blog, page 106
July 11, 2012
My signing in Michigan…Clarification!!!
HEADS-UP… I had a very confusing HEADER on this post the other day, so I’m reposting… I leave for our trip on Thursday, but the actual signing on Saturday… it’s the 14th, not the 12th!
Vacation was awesome. I’ll post random pics and stuff for a few days. Just a heads-up, signing in Westland, MI.
Details…
Signing with Erin McCarthy
7.14.2012 1-3pm
Westland, MI
Paperbacks N’ Things
8027 N Wayne Rd.
Now…some pics.
We went to Pennsylvania and New York. The first thing we did in Pennsylvania was visit the Flight 93 Memorial, where one of the planes went down on 9.11. I hadn’t known this, but the guide told us that if the plane had been in the air even a few seconds longer, it probably would have hit the small town just a short distance from the field where it crashed. :(
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Source: instagram.com via shiloh on Pinterest
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Source: instagram.com via shiloh on Pinterest
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Source: instagram.com via shiloh on Pinterest
Coming up…Blades and Books
DO YOURSELF A FAVOR AND READ THIS BOOK. THIS STORY IS ORIGINAL AND HARD-HITTING WITH TERRIFIC WORLD BUILDING AND SOME OF THE BEST CHARACTERS I’VE READ. YUM.
Patricia Briggs, author of the #1 NYTimes Mercy Thompson series.
Blades and Books Blog Tour…
I carried a picture of Doyle in my back pocket.
I’d made a copy and tucked it in my pocket the day I accepted the case.
Maybe it was silly, but I wanted to remember what I was risking my life for. Who.
A kid.
A nervous, scared kid who wasn’t even sure he could survive the change from human to were.
He had blond hair, sleepy-looking eyes and the promise of what would be a killer smile. So much promise. And what was more…he had kind eyes. The kindness in his eyes hadn’t been lost on me.
It seemed that the cat shifters could use with more kindness in their ranks.
Chang had seemed the decent sort. A few others hadn’t been too bad. But most of them were caught up in the power play and it pissed me off that somebody who might have been one of the nice ones was lost to them.
I knew his face now. He was mine. I’d do everything I could to find him and if I couldn’t find him, it would be because there was nothing left to find.
On the way down to the cold floor of Banner HQ, I slid my hand into my pocket and tugged out the picture of Doyle, rubbing it with my thumb. I didn’t look at it. There was no need. I knew his face well enough now that I could draw his picture. More than once, I’d found myself doing just that.
He didn’t look like his aunt.
Queen Bitch.
Would death be kind—?
No. I can’t think like that…can’t, I can’t, I can’t….
A hand came up and closed over my neck as the elevator doors opened. The people trickled out, but before we could follow them, Damon hit the button to shut the doors and then he just held it. “Are you trying to push yourself into a panic attack?”
So, starting on 7/15, I start a two week blog tour and I’m giving away a prize at the end of it all. Blades and books. Now the contest isn’t open yet, but it will be soon. Want to see what you can do to get an extra entry?
Post the button at your blog, and when the rafflecopter entry goes live, just get that info added in and you’ve got extra entries.
Want to read about the prizes?
Check it out here…
July 10, 2012
Back… Vacation. Thud. Heading out again… Signing in Michigan!
HEADS-UP… I had a very confusing HEADER on this post. I leave for our trip on Thursday, but the actual signing on Saturday… it’s the 14th, not the 12th!
Vacation was awesome. I’ll post random pics and stuff for a few days. Just a heads-up, signing in Westland, MI.
Details…
Signing with Erin McCarthy
7.14.2012 1-3pm
Westland, MI
Paperbacks N’ Things
8027 N Wayne Rd.
Now…some pics.
We went to Pennsylvania and New York. The first thing we did in Pennsylvania was visit the Flight 93 Memorial, where one of the planes went down on 9.11. I hadn’t known this, but the guide told us that if the plane had been in the air even a few seconds longer, it probably would have hit the small town just a short distance from the field where it crashed. :(
[image error]
Source: instagram.com via shiloh on Pinterest
~*~
[image error]
Source: instagram.com via shiloh on Pinterest
~*~
[image error]
Source: instagram.com via shiloh on Pinterest
Back… Vacation. Thud. Heading out again… um, Thursday. Signing in Michigan!
Vacation was awesome. I’ll post random pics and stuff for a few days. Just a heads-up, signing in Westland, MI.
Details…
Signing with Erin McCarthy
7.14.2012 1-3pm
Westland, MI
Paperbacks N’ Things
8027 N Wayne Rd.
Now…some pics.
We went to Pennsylvania and New York. The first thing we did in Pennsylvania was visit the Flight 93 Memorial, where one of the planes went down on 9.11. I hadn’t known this, but the guide told us that if the plane had been in the air even a few seconds longer, it probably would have hit the small town just a short distance from the field where it crashed. :(
[image error]
Source: instagram.com via shiloh on Pinterest
~*~
[image error]
Source: instagram.com via shiloh on Pinterest
~*~
[image error]
Source: instagram.com via shiloh on Pinterest
July 9, 2012
New shiny covers
I’ve been cleared, by Shiloh, to share some pretty new covers for some of her Ellora’s Cave backlist titles. They are very pretty IMHO. And without further ado….
(uta… if you wanna read more, you can check out the ebookshelf here…)
Also, as far as I know….these are not being re-released. I believe Ellora’s Cave has just updated the cover art on these titles.
July 7, 2012
Snippets!
Still out of town, heading home today, assuming New York didn’t kick my butt. :)
This is all about reuniting…
From BROKEN BLADE, one of my JC Daniels books…still in progress…
“I don’t know. And I don’t know if it’s even going to happen.” Turning my face into his hand, I kissed his rough palm. It hurt more than a little as I pushed him away. “But you have to let me breathe. You have to give me room. If I ever find my way, I’ll let you know.”
He was quiet as he stepped back.
Just before I slipped out the door, he asked softly, “Are you coming back to me, Kit?”
I closed my eyes. “I don’t know.”
I wish I could have said Yes. I wanted to. I wanted to scream it.
But if I was going to be honest, I had to stick to it.
Megan Hart:Read in bed!
Leah Braemel
Jody Wallace
Eliza Gayle
Mandy M Roth
Lissa Matthews
Mari Carr
McKenna Jeffries
Myla Jackson
Taige Crenshaw
HelenKay Dimon
Lauren Dane
Shelli Stevens
July 6, 2012
Friday 56
It’s finally Friday…and you know what that means *G*. Friday 56.
Grab the closest book (doesn’t have to be what you’re reading…just whatever is close by). Flip to page 56 and give us the 5th sentence. Also, if you wanna, you can give a few extra lines too.
Mine this week is from Vicki Pettersson’s The Taken:
“Yet when he finally looked up from his empty plate, the headache dogging him was gone, and he almost felt a part of the world. ”
July 4, 2012
Happy 4th of July
For the readers in the US.
July 3, 2012
Hot in Handcuffs…THE UNWILLING
It’s out today!
If she’d thought a meal might do a damn thing to break the tension between them, she would have been wrong. But she hadn’t been banking on that. There was too much still left between them, things unsaid. Things that should probably remain that way.
If she was wise. Because if she started saying all the things that were still unsaid, she’d probably start wishing she could do the things that were still undone—and maybe even the things that had been done. Just not recently. Making love with him. Lying in the bed next to him and listening to him breathe as he played with her hair. Laughing with him, talking with him . . . and before it had gotten to be too much, even working with him. Just being with him.
Yeah, she didn’t need to start thinking about all of that, and if she spent too much time with him, she would. She needed to be smart. Except she knew she couldn’t be. She’d thought she’d been smart all those years ago when she ran from something that overwhelmed her.
Since then, she’d spent years regretting it.
Years . . . years regretting the one decision she’d thought she had to make, listened to what she’d thought was the voice of reason. Since then, she’d asked herself more times than she could recall if she hadn’t made a mistake. And now . . . she just didn’t know. The only thing she did know was that she couldn’t leave him yet. Not yet.
She was certain she’d start to question herself any second now. Yet again that voice of reason would rear its ugly head and she’d start to think . . .
But it was strangely silent.
There was no reason for her to go with him, really. Unless she counted the information she had in her workbag. She could have given that to him outside. For that matter, she could give it to him here.
She didn’t want to do that, though. He’d look through it. And he needed to rest before he did any more. She could see the dragging exhaustion in his eyes.
If somebody wasn’t there to make him put the work aside, he wouldn’t do it.
So I could have waited until tomorrow . . .
They didn’t have time, though.
No time. They just didn’t have time for him to spend the next twelve hours in bed.
You don’t want to walk away, you don’t want him walking away, and you can’t wait until he’s gotten the sleep he needs. But with anybody else, you could let them sleep a few hours and then call. So either admit what you want . . . or just go home and call in six hours. So now the voice of reason had become the voice of insanity, temptation, and sluthood. The voice was sly, almost gleeful as it added, Just admit you can’t leave yet. You can’t walk away yet. You need him too much—just do it already.
Just do it?
Just do what . . . him?
The next story in my FBI Psychics series…
Also has stories from my friends, Shayla Black and Sylvia Day.
Amazon | BAMM | B&N | Book Depository | Indiebound
July 2, 2012
guest blogger… Ruthie Knox
So I’m heading out of town…er… I already did. And I’ve got a guest! it’s Ruthie Knox. I got to read her book early, too. It’s hot. It’s fun. And City is awesome.
London Calling
You know, it never occurred to me that it was an unusual move to set a contemporary romance in London until I did it and people started telling me it was. Oops!
But also, yay!
I don’t mind being unusual, especially when it means that I get to share my love of London and the surrounding area with the world. (Also, my love of hot Englishmen.)
Way back in days of yore, before I was a romance writer, I was a grad student, and I earned a Ph.D. in modern British history. As part of my studies, I spent nine months living in Greenwich, a village suburb in southeast London, for nine months.
The experience was both wonderful and awful. I spent nine months commuting by train to various metropolitan archives, sitting for eight hours five days a week in silent rooms where I took notes on a laptop, then commuting home. I took up jogging with a vengeance, running every morning in Greenwich park near my flat. I took up Iyengar yoga at the neighborhood community center. I learned to cook. I went on hikes and visited museums and took weekend excursions to Bath, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Strasbourg, Nuremburg, and all a bunch of different places along the Thames. I read a ton of books from the library.
Nobody ever really talked to me.
I was lonely, but it was a very capable, sustainable sort of lonely, if that makes any sense. I sent a lot of e-mail, made a lot of phone calls, and had a number of visitors—including my then-male-friend, who became my boyfriend over the course of his visit, and then became my husband, which is a whole other story I’m not going to tell here, or probably anywhere, ever.
But the thing I spent hours doing—the thing that didn’t feel like a luxury at the time but was—the thing that I miss now—was watch people. People on train platforms, people in archive lunchrooms, people at the park, people at yoga classes, people in shops. I became, over that year, a student of people. I became a student of London, too, and I fell in love with it.
So my latest release, About Last Night, is, in a small way, my love letter to London, with a lot of sneaky little references to things I adored about my short-term adoptive city. Maybe you can pick some of them up in this excerpt, set at the Canary Wharf location of Marks & Spencer.
She was standing by the checkout, trying to decide whether Hello! or OK! magazine would make a better accompaniment to the cookies in the meantime, when she heard him.
“Tell me that’s not your dinner, Mary Catherine.”
Her arms broke out in goose bumps at the sound of his voice. Seriously, goose bumps. She was a junkie for this guy. It was humiliating.
“You want me to lie to you, City?”
Because she so badly wanted to look at him, she made herself wait. She placed her cookies on the checkout belt and started digging through her purse for a few pound coins. In her peripheral vision, she peeked at what he was buying. His basket was full of vegetables, eggs, bread, tomatoes. He was going to make something healthy.
She wondered if this was where he usually bought his groceries. It was the most convenient option for commuters—a quick hop off the train and then back on again—but too expensive for Cath. She used it strictly as a cookie stop and made the trip to the dodgy Tesco in Lewisham once a week for her real food.
“No, I want you to eat properly.”
“Don’t worry, I’m going to have some milk with them.” She did look at him then, just a glance over her shoulder. Enough to see the dimple, the green eyes, the charcoal pin-striped suit with a red tie. Her favorite banker.
She started running her mouth so she wouldn’t have to deal with her runaway emotions. “The best part is, they won’t even make me fat.” She handed her money to the cashier. “We Talaricos are a short, scrawny crowd, genetically incapable of gaining weight. My dad was pint-sized. It worked for him, though. He looked like a young Frank Sinatra, with these big blue eyes and a smile that had the ladies practically throwing their panties at him. At least, that’s what Mom always said. It’s kind of hard to imagine anyone throwing panties at your own father.” After accepting her change, she tossed her purchase in a bag and finally turned around to face him.
It really wasn’t fair. He had to be the only man alive who was always more attractive in the flesh than in the imagination, and he was giving her a look. She’d seen that look before. They’d both been naked at the time and he’d been . . . mmm. Her goose bumps got goose bumps.
“Let me make you dinner.”
How many times in her life had a man offered to cook dinner for her? With vegetables, even? Zero, that was how many.
No dates, she reminded herself. No emotions. Just sex. But it was hard to remember why when he was standing in front of her being all sexy and friendly and sexy.
The obvious solution was to refuse to look at him. She kept her eyes on the floor while he packed his groceries into a bag and thanked the cashier.
Then he touched her, a light caress of his hand at her waist that flipped her on switch and started her whole body vibrating. “Mary Catherine?”
“No.” Just don’t look up. “I can’t. No.”
He tipped her chin up with one finger, forcing her to meet his eyes. A slow smile spread over his face, devastating her defenses. “If I didn’t know better, I’d begin to think you don’t like me.”
“Who says I like you?” But the question didn’t come out as ballsy as she wanted it to, not when he was close enough to make her skin itch.
He chuckled. “How many times did you come last night?” he asked in a low voice.
Three. “I’m not answering that question.”
“You don’t have to. I remember every one. You like me fine.”
How about you — have you ever spent a long time living abroad on your own? Do you have a love affair with a foreign city? What about it do you like to remember now, looking back?
