Shiloh Walker's Blog, page 151

Hunter's Fall…Random Snippets

 

 

You're too pretty, she'd told him.

Dark, velvety brown eyes.

Long-fingered hands . . . almost elegant.

Her heart skipped a beat as her imagination kicked into overdrive. He was touching her and she was helpless as he lifted a hand to cup her cheek, angling her head back.

Tears burned her eyes.

Just before he would have kissed her, she flung herself out of the chair, landing in a heap on the floor.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. She couldn't do this. She'd refused to let herself dream of him in the past year, refused to let herself take comfort in his presence. In those dreams, she'd felt almost happy . . . and she couldn't be happy. Would never truly be happy and having it in her dreams, only in her dreams was just too much.

Too painful.

"No," she whispered again, shuddering.

The spell was shattered and Nessa found herself on her hands and knees, staring at the book. It lay just inches from her hands.

Swearing, she shoved upright and kicked it away. It ended up under the bed, but she didn't bother retrieving it.

Nessa cast a look around the room.

Enough. She'd had enough.

"Damn it." She shoved a hand through her hair, fisted it in the blond strands. She jerked at it, hoping the light tug would help clear her mind, but it did nothing.

Her head ached, her heart ached.

Confusion and chaos reigned inside her.

All from a bloody picture on a damned book.

And she was so fucking tired of it. So tired.

"I'm stronger than this," she muttered. Slowly, she turned and stared into the mirror hanging over the fireplace.

She was stronger than this.

"By God, it's time I started acting like it then, isn't it?"

 

June 7

You can also read the prologue and chapter one…

Amazon | B&N | BAMM | Borders | IndieBound

Random trivia

Okay, this might be harder…yesterday's snippet, Nessa had a book.  It was inspired by an actual book.  The guy on the cover, at least.  I read it while I was working on Hunter's Fall.

It's not so much the character from this book, but the way he was kind of depicted on the cover that set Nessa off.

Anybody wanna take a guess at what book?  The author, maybe? (No, it's not me.)

Update on Pastor Marrion…

Those who have followed my blog will probably recognize the name… just wanted to share this update I received.

For those not too familiar with the name…this is a man who builds school, faces Warlords in the Congo and dares to try to make a better life for this country. A good man.

Hello friends,

First off I'd like to thank those who've recently donated to the Pastor Marrion Fund. Your gift is greatly appreciated and couldn't come at a better time.

As of this afternoon, Pastor Marrion will be admitted to Nairobi Hospital to prepare for his kidney transplant on Thursday. His donor, Ayer Omaka, will be admitted tomorrow. Omaka's stepfather has even traveled from Congo to give his son encouragement during the procedure, and will escort him home once he's healed. Omaka will be required to stay in the hospital until May 28. Pastor will remain until the second week of June. As always, his wife is by his side.

Right now, our colleague Riccardo Gangale is rounding up fellow journalists to donate blood in case of an emergency. As our point man in Nairobi, Riccardo has been working tirelessly for months to help coordinate everything, and we're grateful to have him on the ground.

I spoke to the pastor just before he left for the hospital. He sounded buoyant and cheerful and undoubtedly relieved to finally be at this point. He had a message for all of you who have kept him in your prayers, donated money, and spread the word about his plight.

"Tell them how grateful I am," he said, "and that this will be successful. I'll get my strength and will continue with my ministry and what I was doing for my country. You know, I have to help my people."

He then told me that before he'd gotten sick last year, he'd started a primary school. I had no idea. It's located in the Tagba displaced camp near Lake Albert. Some 400 kids — whose families have fled fighting between warring militias — now study in a ramshackle building made of sticks and mud and plastic sheeting for a roof. Local churches collect money from traders to pay for books and teacher salaries. The last he heard, it was still operating.

"By next year I want to have a secondary school," he said, then added: "The government does nothing, so what can we do? We have to do these things ourselves."

So please keep the pastor in your thoughts and prayers this week, and keep spreading the word. We still need about $5,000 to cover the post-op care and medication. And again, thanks for all your support. It's been a long journey, but now we're closer than ever. We're gonna do it. Let's get pastor home and back to work. Those kids need a new school.

all best,

Bryan

TO DONATE: http://www.indiegogo.com/The-Pastor-M...

For those who missed it, here's some recent press:

http://lightbox.time.com/2011/04/18/a...

Random Snippets…Hunter's Fall

 

Because she knew she'd come too close to death, Nessa didn't leave the school the minute she had the strength to climb out of her bed.

She should have felt at home here. After all, she'd taught in this school for many, many years . . . back in that other life. That other life. She smiled without humor. She could break her life into two parts now . . . no, three.

Life with Elias. Life after Elias. And now . . . life after death.

Nessa didn't want to be here. She didn't want to be around another soul—not a friend, not a student. Nobody. She couldn't risk it. Another loss would destroy her.

Where's your strength now, you stupid old bitch?

The sly, insulting whisper of Morgan's voice stirred something inside her, the first embers of anger, self-disgust. Something. But she couldn't very well get angry, now could she?

After all, the girl wasn't wrong.

Nessa's strength was gone. She couldn't find that strength again, and she didn't want to.

She just wanted oblivion and if she couldn't have that, then she wanted peace and solitude.

If she was alone, then she wouldn't come to care about anybody again and if she didn't come to care, she wouldn't be shattered by another loss.

"Too many losses," she murmured to herself. Far too many.

As her strength slowly returned, so did lucidity. Clear thoughts weren't particularly welcome, but she had to face the facts. She couldn't keep doing this to herself. Even if she didn't particularly want to live, she didn't want her friends to pay the price, and sooner or later, that would happen if she kept to this road.

Kelsey visited often, using books, movies and bribes of French chocolate and plum wine to draw Nessa out of her shell. As fond as Nessa was of her shell, though, she let her friend coax her outside.

As little as she cared for her own neck, for her own life, she did still care for her friends and she was tired of making them worry.

Within a week, her energy was back.

Thanks to the food they'd been pushing on her, she'd put on a few pounds.

And her mind was all too clear. That was the bothersome part about taking care of herself. It was harder to avoid thinking about things.

Memories taunted her, and the ever-present Morgan renewed her assault with glee.

She was tempted—for the first time since she'd realized that the bitch had taken to haunting her—to tell somebody else about her hitchhiker, see if anybody might have a clue how to get rid of the annoying ghost.

But she didn't. If she seriously put her mind to it, she could probably think of a way to rid herself of Morgan.

It's a sad thing in life when one hesitates to rid oneself of an enemy. But if nothing else, Morgan was a constant in Nessa's life.

"How low I've sunk," she whispered, staring off into nothingness. She tolerated the presence of a murdering ghost, just because it meant she wasn't alone inside her head.

The irony wasn't lost on her.

She came awake to hear the high-pitched chatter of laughter and she groaned, rolling onto her stomach. She tugged the pillow over her head and tried to block out the sound of the students, but to no avail. She'd left the blasted window open the night before, forgetting that the students resumed their studies today.

For the past week, it had been relatively quiet. The students had been on spring break, but now the time for quiet was over. School was back in session.

Kicking her legs over the edge of the bed, she rose and stormed to the window, half tempted to mutter a spell that would darken the room again. She could pretend it was still nightfall.

Staring out the window, she watched them. They were laughing amongst themselves. A few were griping about an assignment they'd failed to do over the break. Others were loitering here and there, with that feigned air of apathy teenagers had long since perfected.

Across the broad expanse of green grass, Nessa could see the front steps of the school. Kelsey was there, along with some of the other instructors. They spoke to the children, answered questions and waved the students on when they lingered too long.

On the surface, it looked like most any other school. That was exactly what the mortal world saw—a school for the gifted and troubled. Gifted meaning highly capable, though, since naturally the mortal world didn't tend to think in terms of witches, shapeshifters or vampires.

And Excelsior was a damn fine school—it provided a top-notch education, one of the finest private educations money could buy. It provided that . . . and a lot more. Many, though not all, of the students had no family to guide them through the training needed to attain control of their gifts.

Once the sun set, a new set of students would emerge from the secured, safe rooms under the school—the newly Changed vampires—there to learn control over their bloodthirst.

Excelsior was small. No fewer than two hundred minor students and maybe half as many adult students. A little world, isolated from the rest of mankind.

Nessa closed the window and jerked the heavy curtains into place. Turning, she stared at her room. She dismissed the bed without even looking at it. There was no way she could rest now. A headache pounded behind her eyes.

There was a neat stack of books on the little table near the window. Yet another offering from Kelsey. Depressed and tired, Nessa moved to the chair and sank down. She blew out a breath and glanced at the paperback on top. A pretty girl, dressed all in black. She flipped it open and saw another image just inside. The same girl, this time with a man. They stood close, not quite embracing.

Blood roared in Nessa's ears as she stared at the man. Black coat, worn open over a bare chest, the long ends of it flapping about his legs.

Nessa's hands trembled. Her heart began to slam against her ribs.

Dark hair . . . a strong jaw. She couldn't see his face well, but her imagination was quite content to fill in the void. In her mind's eye, she could see him.

Her dream lover . . .

The book fell from her slack hands, but she didn't notice.

June 7

You can also read the prologue and chapter one…

Amazon | B&N | BAMM | Borders | IndieBound

Looking to help out the tornado victims in Joplin?

I know I've mentioned Charity Navigator before, but in times like this, I always like to mention them again…it seems like con artists and stuff crawl out of the woodwork in times of desperation.

A new charity I haven't heard about, but they are already on the move to Joplin… Convoy of Hope, gets a 4 star rating.

Convoy of Hope and other ways to help found at this page on USA

Review from Publisher's Weekly

So I got reviewed in Publisher's Weekly again.  This is a pretty big magazine for the industry.  My editor gave me the heads-up about it and she was happy with it.

My first knee jerk reaction was just to …boggle.  Yeah. Here… I'll show you why.

Walker's gripping writing almost makes up for the weak premise of the intricate fifth Hunters paranormal (after 2009′s Hunter's Need). Nessa is an old, powerful witch thrust into a sexy new body still occupied by the taunting presence of its previous owner and possessed by murderous urges. Young vampire Dominic is plagued by erotic dreams about a beautiful woman who is both familiar and mysterious, much to his frustration and confusion. Aided by characters from previous series titles, Nessa and Dominic attempt to discover the truth behind their psychic connection before evil forces destroy them both. Complex personal histories and a very solid paranormal world add detail and intrigue as beautifully well-rounded characters reach for clarity and survival, and series fans will tolerate Nessa and Dominic's drawn-out struggle to accept the destiny that readers can see coming from miles away. (June)

So, hey…gripping writing!  Score!  Weak premise…whimper.

Complex personal histories and a very solid paranormal world-hey, I am awesome…or not. series fans will tolerate Nessa and Dominic's drawn-out struggle…tolerate?  That's the best I could do was make them tolerate?  Crying!  I shoulda done better…

But wait! beautifully well-rounded characters…Okay, I'm getting whiplash going back and forth between I'm awesome and I suck.  Because guess what? The ending??? readers can see coming from miles away.

Okay, I'm confused.  Was the book any good or not?

O.o  Who cares?  I got my book reviewed in Publisher's Weekly.  So…score!

Yay!

 

The winners…(Be a pusher)

Okay, so the winners…

Two from Tumblr

housewifeblues-chihuahuastories reblogged this from shilohwalker

chelsbooks reblogged this from shilohwalker

Two from the blog…

Gemma @ http://deliriousordead.blogspot.com/2011/05/more-book-news-shiloh-walker.html
Aemelia @ http://trustme2forget.blogspot.com/2011/05/check-it-outshiloh-walkers-got-new-book.html

 

And twitter…

@MuseCalliope

@beyondjenna

One Random/email entries

carrie b, emailing starting with carrieab..@

Okay, folks…you've got two weeks to email my admin, Nicole at grimmhunter.shilohwalker(at)gmail.com.  Please put PUSHER CONTEST in the subject line and include your mailing addy.

Remember, as per my disclaimer (which everybody agrees to when they enter any of my contests), you have two weeks to claim your prize or it's forfeited.

Hunters Rafe and Sheila

Another EC title…

Rafe hadn't been able to find Sheila for three days. Not that he had been looking.

But when the sweet scent of plumeria started to fade from Eli's enclave, he knew something was going on.

For the past six months, he had left her alone. Realizing how close he had come to the unthinkable, he'd gone out of his way to stay away from her, giving her the distance she no doubt wanted from him. Not seeing her, not touching her, ate at him and he was slowly going out of his mind.

When he realized that she was gone, though, really gone, he just snapped. Insane fury pulsed through his veins as he tore the house apart, searching for her, growling demands at everyone in the house, only to be ignored.

Stalking into the Master's quarters with hell in his eyes probably wasn't the best way to start the day…but then again, for some odd reason, Rafe seemed to be spoiling for a fight all the time lately. It had gotten worse since that night when he had almost raped Sheila, and now it was getting impossible to control.

"Where's the little southern belle?" he demanded, flinging himself down onto a long, leather couch.

Eli glanced up from his desk just in time to see the leather molding itself to the long, rangy vampire's form. And to see the fire in Rafe's gaze. He couldn't help the smile that filled his eyes, but he did manage to keep it from curling his lips.

"She's gone away for a while," he said, leaning back and folding his hands across his belly. "Sheila has been rather—unhappy," he decided after a moment. "She petitioned at first to leave, but we decided a vacation might suit."

"To leave?" Rafe growled.

"Yes. A new Master, she thought, a new home, might solve the problem she's been dealing with." Nothing would solve it, Eli knew, not until Rafe stopped being so bloody stubborn, but some distance might help Sheila heal a little bit.

And just might force Rafe's hand, making him do what he should have done months ago. Admit that he was in love with her.

"What problem?" Rafe demanded, shooting to his feet. "She Hunts once a week, takes Erika shopping and acts like a babysitter for the kid. And cooking. Cooking, for crying out loud. What fucking problem?"

His black hair tumbled into his eyes and he shoved it back as he started to pace, mumbling and swearing under his breath.

Eli heard every word.

"I believe she is lonely. I suggested she go find a man and get…fucked six different ways to Sunday. Well, that was Sarel's phrase. But it suits, I think," Eli said, bracing himself, and reminding himself that Rafe was a friend, and that killing him wouldn't help Rafe or Sheila's predicament.

Of course, when Rafe leaped over the desk and tore him out of his chair with startling speed, Eli did have to admit that he might have a bit more of a fight on his hands than he had previously thought. But he hadn't been planning on fighting at all. Throttling down the instinct to battle, he gave Rafe an innocent look and forced a fake bellow, "What the hell is your bloody problem?"

"You told her to what?" Rafe demanded in a low deadly whisper.

"Fuck me, she's a lovely, loving young woman. And she's lonely. You don't want her anymore, but nobody here will give her a damn glance for fear of insulting you. She needs a man, so I told her to go find one," Eli said, reaching up and shoving Rafe back.

Rafe went flying, but he took a handful for Eli's silk vest with him. Glancing down, Eli scowled. "Now that was just uncalled for. Sarel bought that for me," he snapped as he took the tattered remains off and held it up. Even Sheila with her talented hands couldn't fix this one, had she been around.

"You told her to go find a man?" Rafe repeated, his fangs protruding past his upper lip, his black eyes gleaming red in his rage.

"Aye. I did." Eli allowed a tiny smile to appear as he cocked his head. "That really shouldn't be a problem for you…but it looks like it is. Why is that?"

Rafe went completely still as he glared at Eli.

And then he stalked out.

At Nook & Kindle …with discounted prices.

 

Hunter's Choice… free

Heya folks

For the next little while, you can download Hunter's Choice for free, downloadable from All Romance Ebooks and Smashwords.  I'm working to get these available on Kindle & Nook as well, but I can't guarantee it will happen.

Download from All Romance Ebooks

Download from Smashwords

Random snippets…Hunter's Fall

 

Tucked inside a warm, soft bed, Nessa rolled onto her side and clutched a pillow to her chest.

She was back at Excelsior.

She'd been at the school for three days—something she hadn't had much choice in. During the fight in Chicago, she'd collapsed. If it wasn't for Malachi, she would have died there. Part of her couldn't quite manage to be glad for that fact.

Not just yet. Maybe not ever.

Outside her rooms, she could hear the low murmur of voices, sense the rush of life. Her shields were shot, and everything just felt too intense.  She couldn't block a soul out to save her life.

She was far too weak, far too vulnerable just yet.

Closing her eyes, she reached up and touched the smooth skin where she'd been bitten. Kelsey had healed her, good and fast, but Nessa didn't remember. According to the other witch, she'd spent the first forty-eight hours unconscious.

She'd woken in this room to find herself healed, bathed and dressed in a long, cotton nightshirt. It resembled the chemises she'd worn for much of her life, gathered at the neck and hanging to her ankles. The first thing she'd done when she woke up was tear the damn thing away.

She'd made the mistake of looking at the mirror and it had been like being flung back into time.

It was an ugly, awful irony that Morgan's former body bore a striking resemblance to Nessa's. The shape of the eyes were a bit different, and her hair was blond now rather than brown, but the differences were so slight they could have been sisters—nearly twins.

Seeing herself in that chemise and wearing a face that looked far too much like the one from her youth had been too much.

Now she had echoes of Elias's voice in her mind, the low, rough sound of his laughter, the heated whispers in her ear as he made love to her. The tormented, awful rasp of his voice as he lay dying in her arms.

My Nessa . . .

Only God Himself could keep me from you.

Pain wrapped around her heart and squeezed. It poisoned her, darkened everything and stole the breath from her lungs.

Closing her eyes, she buried her face against the pillow and whispered, "Please, just let me rest. Please . . ."

 

 

June 7

You can also read the prologue and chapter one…

Amazon | B&N | BAMM | Borders | IndieBound