Shiloh Walker's Blog, page 113
May 3, 2012
Wearing another hat off and on for a while
My services are required elsewhere so things might be a bit quite. If the blog goes quiet or I’m not on twitter much, etc…that’s probably why. Between the other hat thing and catching up on work, breathing might be an issue. 
see more Lolcats and funny pictures, and check out our Socially Awkward Penguin lolz!
May 1, 2012
Since you met the cat…here. Meet Tucker.
This is a short scene, and you’re not getting anything else about him, but since some people are bidding on his cat…
Somebody was shooting. Focusing in the darkness ahead, she thought she saw him. The vivid red of his hair, the spiral of tattoos on his arms. Tucker. Thank God.
The next few moments were a buzzed blur. Adrenaline thrummed through her veins. Her heart was in her throat. Almost out of here…almost. Almost.
As she breached the lovely stone gates that surrounded the property, she snarled. Had to climb. Damn. The main gate was closed…
Pop, pop, pop…
And then a gloved pair of hands closed off her wrists. “I gotcha,” Tucker drawled. The muscles in his arms bulged as he hauled her up, making the tattoos dance and shift.
She looked up into his familiar eyes, his hair tumbling into his eyes. “I gotcha, girl,” he drawled, smiling a little.
Breathe, gotta breathe…
Seconds later, they were on the ground and Tucker was next to her. As they tore off into the night, they were too aware of those coming after them.
“They’re coming after us,” she said grimly. “They’ll be on the road the second we are.”
“No.” Tucker’s voice was tight, controlled.
Shooting him a look, she saw the strained look on his face. “Not just yet, they won’t.” He pointed to the roadside and they slowed just before they would have slammed into the car. “I can hold them for a few.”
The look on his face was one of strain unlike anything she could ever recall seeing. “Tucker?”
He just shook his head. “Get in. We have to go,” he said thinly. “The farther we are when I lose the hold, the better.”
Well, then.
She’d known he had a knack for odd things…a strong knack, but that strong?
Want to bid on naming Tucker’s cat? It’s up at the Brenda Novak Annual Auction for the Cure.
New York…New York…
So our family vacation this year is going end in New York.
And while we’re there, I’m signing books.
7.5.2012
6-7:30 pm
Booksigning!
Posman Books
9 grand central terminal
NY NY 10017
Possibly talking about and drinks afterward… so if you’d like to join us, just plan to hang around.
Howdy, Helenkay…
Very few authors I’ve met have been as awesome all around as Helenkay Dimon. She’s just flat out amazing and I love her. She also writes verra good books, too.
She has one out today. You should read it.
Jonas Porter yawned as he marched up the front porch steps to the craftsman-style bungalow in the middle of nowhere. At ten in the morning he’d been on shift for more than sixteen straight hours thanks to the Webber kid taking his neighbor’s car for a joyride that ended with a big splash into the Siuslaw River.
When he took the law enforcement position, Jonas had been promised relative peace and quiet by the county sheriff and Jonas’ long-time mentor, Walt Roberts. Since Jonas needed a break and crime didn’t run rampant in Aberdeen, the small Oregon town where the river dumped into the Pacific Ocean, the job looked like the perfect solution. If a drunk pre-teen with a lack of common sense turned out to be the biggest problem, Jonas could live with that.
Agreeing to handle one small task on his way back to his place to pass out was probably not his brightest move. He needed sleep, but this should easy. In and out and then he could slip into bed for a few hours.
He knocked on the dark red door. The rock beat thumping inside and shaking the walls cut off. He double-checked the house number to make sure he was at the right place. He expected an older lady, a grandmother type. He guessed this one liked her music loud, which blew his older-woman stereotype apart.
In the resulting silence he waited for someone to open up. When no one did, he raised his hand to try again and nearly punched the woman who threw the door open.
“Sorry.” He mumbled as he stared into big brown eyes filled with a wariness that appeared older than the rest of her.
“Yes?” Her smile faded when her gaze traveled down his chest.
A guy could get a complex. “Ma’am, is this your house?”
“Of course.”
The high cheekbones and slim figure didn’t make any sense. Young and pretty with shoulder-length brown hair and not at all the lonely older woman he’d been told to check on. This one couldn’t be more than in her mid-to-late twenties. She wore a slim long-sleeve red t-shirt, and if his guess was right, no bra.
He pretended not to notice the last part. “I’m Lieutenant Jonas Porter, the deputy police chief.”
“I got that much from the uniform and nametag.”
“Uh, right. Sure.” She had him stuttering like the Webber kid.
“Why are you here?” She wiped her hands on her olive cargo pants but didn’t shift one inch to let him in.
Young or old, she hardly struck him as a woman who needed police assistance to make sure she took her medicine on time. This one could handle her business without any help from him. The flat line of her mouth and clenched fists suggested she wanted to kick him right off the porch.
“We had a call,” he explained. “I’m here for a wellness check.”
Something flashed in her dark eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“Your husband has been trying to reach you and when he couldn’t-”
Her grip tightened on the door. “My husband?”
“Yes, ma’am. My understanding is that he’s away from home on business.” When she continued to stare at him with that you’ve-lost-your-mind expression, Jonas tried again. “He called a friend who called the police in Maryland who contacted my office. I’m here as a courtesy.”
“Maryland?”
Seemed she had a repetition problem. “Yes, ma’am. Your husband was worried you’d forgotten to take your medications.”
“You think I need drugs?”
Jonas refused to be thrown off stride. “Your husband said something about a bad fall recently.”
“Is this a joke?”
That’s what Jonas was starting to wonder. “No, ma’am.”
“You obviously have the wrong person.” She started to close the door. Right in his face.
He caught the edge with one hand as the other went to the top of his gun. “Hold up.”
The move was pure instinct. He’d once waited a second too long and vowed never to make that mistake again.
She didn’t miss the move. Her gaze zipped to his weapon. “Excuse me?”
“Let’s calm down for a second and walk through this.”
“Do I look nervous to you?”
“Actually, yes.” Something was wrong here. Very wrong.
Buy at Amazon
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Buy at Books-A-Million
April 30, 2012
April 29, 2012
Touch not the cat…
But you can name him.
Or well, somebody will get the chance.
[image error]
Source: Uploaded by user via shiloh on Pinterest
How?
Go to http://brendanovak.auctionanything.com/Bidding.taf?_function=detail&Auction_uid1=2464107
I donated Tucker’s cat…who was inspired by Ilona’s cat. Who is Tucker? He’s the very cool psychic you all will meet in THE REUNITED…due out in 2012
Ilona… thanks for letting me steal err…borrow your cat. 
April 28, 2012
On bloggers, on plagiarism, on bloggers who plagiarize…
Okay, so this happened a week or two ago. It’s lousy and it sucks and the bloggers who actually spoke out are getting hate mail, and they are getting bullied.
The really beautiful thing is that it was a YA blogger who was the plagiagist. A very prominent one. I’ll be honest. A YA blogger is going to have lots of YA…lots of teens flocking to her blog. I’d hold a YA blogger to a higher standard. I’ve got a teen in my house and anybody who might have my teen in her audience? I’d rather you not be a thief and a liar.
Yes…I discussed it with my teen and this blogger was kinda marked off the list of sites my kid will visit. Kid was rather disgusted with the blogger. But she’s also a budding writer, the child of a writer…she knows the value of words, and she understands the work that goes into them.
I also hope the blogger never really spoke out against bullying…if she did? The message didn’t take, because many of her loyal followers are attacking those who spoke out against. That’s another really disgusting part. It’s more blame the victim stuff.
I spoke my mind about this over at the Smart Bitches blog and I think I said everything i wanted to say there, so I’ll just paste my comment here…
People…writing is hard. It doesn’t matter if you’re writing a book, writing a blog, writing a review, etc. Writing is hard. You’re pulling the words from inside you and they mean something.
I’ve had my words stolen and it sucks.
If you haven’t been there, then you don’t have much ground to stand on when you’re pulling the… UR A BITCH and UR JEALOUS and SHE’S IS AWESOME AND AUTHORS LOOK UP TO HER… (FYI, I’m an author and I don’t.) She’s also a blogger who is forever off the list of blogs my kid will be allowed to visit.
It’s that old… WALK A MILE IN THEIR SHOES. If you can’t do that, all you’re throwing around is empty words. You’re also setting yourself up for karma in the worst way, because everything comes back on you. If you treat people fair, you tend to get fair treatment. If you ride them down, you get ridden down. And…well, in the case of the Story Siren…she treated people like waste when she stole from them. This is the consequence. When you lash out in her defense and get ugly over it, you’re setting yourself for future consequence yourself.
here’s my suggestion…
Think of something you worked really, really hard on. Something you put a lot of time into… whatever it may be. Maybe it was a school assignment. Maybe it was some sort of artistic creation. I don’t know… but you worked HARD, and you accomplished something and you ARE PROUD OF IT. Hell, maybe it’s a relationship. You’ve got a great boyfriend and you two are wonderfully happy and it’s awesome.
And then somebody comes in and claims that work as their own. Or some tramp comes in and steals your boyfriend, or at least makes a play for him that just leaves you feeling sucker-punched.
They don’t credit you. They don’t thank you. They take your hard work, claim it as their own and just walk on. It’s a betrayal.
It’s wrong. It’s theft. It’s cheating.
And the bottom line, if you can’t see that… it means you’ve never invested that much of yourself in something. Which really… well, it’s kinda sad.
To all the bloggers who stand up against this, you have my appreciation.
Now… I dunno if it will happen, but if by chance any of those defenders show up here…I have a policy against those who can’t keep a civil tongue…or tone. Want to argue with me? Fine. But do it with a civil tone…my blog is for my readers and they don’t need to read nastiness. You can argue without spewing hatred. I do it all the time. Get ugly or nasty and the posts do get deleted… or at least modified. That’s the blog policy and it’s been made clear up front.
Want to email me hate mail? That’s cool, too. The contact button is right up there at the top, but don’t expect a response. I don’t waste my time with UR A BITCH or UR JUST JEALOUS.
I don’t have a reason to be jealous of a plagiarist and I already tell people I’m a bitch, so there’s not much to respond to there, anyway.
Okay. Two cents spoken.
Author’s Choice! Saturday Snippets…
So it’s author’s choice… today’s choice? From Wreck this Life… the contemporary romance I just sold to Berkley.
“What happens when this ends? How do we decide that, anyway?”
“We’ll know,” he muttered. If I have my way, it ends when my heart stops. That seemed a good time limit. He took one of the cookies and broke it half, feeding half to her and popping the other piece into his mouth. He wasn’t hungry, but if he didn’t distract himself…shit. He’d been planning on working to this point all week, although the decision to go out of town had been a spur-of-the-moment thing. But now that it was here…
Fuck.
He lay his hand on her belly. “When it ends, if that’s what happens, we’re just back to us. Nothing is going to change, Abby.”
“You seem so sure of that,” she whispered.
“Because that’s how it will be.” No matter what, even if she walked away, he wasn’t going to lose his best friend. Even if she wouldn’t be his lover, his woman always, she was still the most important person for him and he wouldn’t give that up. “And that’s a question…not a rule. Was there anything else?”
She shrugged a little and took a drink. “Not that I can think of.”
His phone buzzed. Glancing down, he saw the message.
Gone, dude.
That was all it said.
Taking the phone, he dumped it on the floor next to him. “If that’s it…” He caught her glass in his hand and put it down on the little table next to her, took the plate of fruit and dessert. “There’s something I need to do.”
Then he put his hand back on her belly and took her mouth.
(no info on release dates or anything… sorry!)
More snippeting authors!
Megan Hart:Read in bed!
Rhian Cahill
Eliza Gayle
Mandy M Roth
Mari Carr
McKenna Jeffries
Myla Jackson
Taige Crenshaw
Delilah Devlin
HelenKay Dimon
Lauren Dane
Shelli Stevens
Jody Wallace
Lissa Matthews
Zoë Archer
April 27, 2012
Something I’m trying on Goodreads…
If you’re on goodreads, I’m trying something new… it’s an easy way to win a book from me and both current and backlist books will be given away.
Basically, you join the group and whatever book is featured, if you want to win, you add the book to your TBR shelf and then comment on the thread. If you win, you agree to post a review. Nice and easy, yes?
If you want to join, it’s here. It is for 18 and over. http://www.goodreads.com/group/show/68725-shiloh-walker-book-of-the-month-club
April 26, 2012
Okay…some news about my news… sold a book! Beautiful Scars..
I mentioned last week that I thought I had news. I do. I have news… and I shall tell.
There may be more, I dunno yet… we shall see, but for now…
This is Beautiful Scars, a book I wrote in a mad rush back in December after I saw a picture. No, I’m not sharing the picture, because that would be spoilers, but I saw a picture and it inspired a book.
This book…
~*~
He could have kept on playing, just for her. Forever. He’d forgotten how amazing it was to do this. Playing for himself was amazing. Playing for his fans…yeah, he loved that.
But there was something magic about sitting there in the dark and playing for her.
It was almost like he could talk to her through the music, and even though she said nothing back, he could hear her answer just in the way she moved, the way she smiled.
And it had always been like this, he realized.
Chaili seemed to find almost the same pleasure in the music that he did.
That same little smile bowed her pretty mouth up and she swayed, one hand curled around the wine glass, the other tapping out a rhythm on her thigh.
He had an image of catching the hem of her skirt. Pushing it up. Okay…that wasn’t anything that had happened before tonight. But he had a feeling he’d be thinking hot and dirty thoughts about her for a long, long time after this. Hell, he was wondering why he hadn’t done it before.
Closing his eyes, he tried to focus back on the music, but he couldn’t block her out.
It was all there, twining through his mind. The raw, powerful vibe of the music. The song. The image of his hands on her thighs. Pushing that pretty skirt up. Catching the silken hose she wore and dragging them down, her panties…leaving her naked under that skirt. Then he’d play a little while longer. Just a little while, as he thought about her being naked under that elegant little white dress.
Get a grip, Marc. Or you’re going to lose it before you even get started…
Get started. Shit, was he actually thinking of trying to do this…
Hell, yes.
He must have lost his mind somewhere in the time he’d seen her standing the office of Escortè and when he’d started playing for her back at the party, but he had every intention of having a taste of her. Just once, he thought. They were friends, right? They could have a night of nice, friendly sex and then go back to being friends…
Yes, because that had worked so well before.
Stop it, man. This isn’t Lily. It won’t happen that way. And if you can’t get that through your head, you need to just take her home now, he told himself.
No. She wasn’t Lily.
And he’d be damned if he took her home just yet. Unless that was what she wanted.
Clearing his throat, he took the glass of wine from her. “Ah…are you wanting to head home or you wanna hang around a while?”
She slid him a smile as she took the glass of wine back. “Hey, you played me one song. That does not a concert make.”
Hot damn.
“Walking in Memphis?”
She just smiled.
He rolled into it, watching her a little closer this time. She was watching his hands again. Her face was flushed, although he didn’t think it was the wine. He’d had as much as she was and it was just the one bottle. Couldn’t just be the wine, right?
She all but groaned as he launched into the one part that got to her, every damn time.
She said, “Tell me are you a Christian child?”
And I said, “Ma’am, I am tonight
His voice dropped, lower, rougher.
A shudder went through her and she grabbed the glass of wine, drank it down. They’d emptied the bottle and she wished she could blame the heat burning inside her on that, but it wasn’t that. It was him. Always him–
“What is it about you and that song?”
As the music faded, she jerked her head up, saw him staring at her.
She tried to shrug. It wasn’t the song, it was him. Something about the way he sang it, hell, the way he sang anything…She licked her lips and stared off into the distance, trying to figure out the right way to say something that wasn’t a lie, but didn’t leave her stripped bare.
A harsh groan reached her ears.
Startled, she looked at him, realized he was staring at her mouth.
Two seconds later, he was reaching for her.
Stunned, she couldn’t think. As his lips covered hers, she couldn’t think.
Marc was kissing her.
Damn it.
Marc was kissing her–
Had she drank more wine than she’d thought?
“Open your mouth,” he snarled against her lips, a harsh, urgent command in his voice. “Give me your mouth.”
Dazed, she did just that, opened for him.
His arms came around her as his tongue stroked across the bottom of her lip, slowly, seductively…teasingly. Oh, hell. She was in trouble. Big, big trouble…
~*~
This is an erotic contemporary romance and now, I can tell you one of the things I’ve been so cryptic about. :) Grand Central’s Romance imprint Forever Romance has bought it…plus another book (more info on that one later on). It’s going into their digital line, and might be out in print as well. Release date not known…I’ll get that info to you once I have yet. But it’s written. And now? It’s SOLD!
**Lyrics from Marc Cohn’s Walking in Memphis
