Shiloh Walker's Blog, page 24

Depression, dealing, reading

The past few weeks have sucked.  It’s been three months since D. died.  I haven’t been expecting it to get easier yet, but it might be nice to not feel sucker-punched by it all still so much of the time.

There’s family crap going on that nobody should have to deal with on top of me and my husband just trying to get out kids through everything.  Plus, Diva’s gone off to college.  That’s a happy thing, yes, but it’s still a change.

I haven’t been able to write as much, and not on my own stuff for a while, so …yeah, no.  That’s not helping.

My depression has been slowly, steadily weighing me down more and more so I’m resorting to the basics of self-care.

A lot of things I’m all like…

I’ve lost interest in needless drama and petty shit.

I’m making myself work out more because endorphins…they say they are going for depression.  FYI, I still think they lie.

We all sat down to a family movie night last week… Harry Potter, of course. Sometimes, some good old good V evil is what you need.

And on Labor Day?  I did nothing but drink and read, read and drink.

I read Magic Stars by Ilona Andrews, which I loved.  More Derek and Julie, please.

I finished Nothing Short of Dying by Erik Storey. It was pretty good.

And I finished listening to The Knocked Up Plan by Lauren Blakely–I had four hours to go, so that was an investment, but it was worth it.  It was my first LB book, but won’t be my last.  I loved it and it was enough to get some creative juices going so once I get caught up on freelance projects and have the time, maybe I can write some me stuff.

I do have a project I’ll be telling you all about soonest.

That is something I’m excited about.

The post Depression, dealing, reading appeared first on Shiloh Walker.

I should probably mention… No Prince Charming… reissue!!!

Her Happy-Ever-After has been a long time coming…

Grimm’s Circle, Book 2

Elle spent years trying to get over her so-called Prince Charming, and she’s finally getting the hang of it. A Grimm—a guardian angel with unique gifts—she spends her nights trolling for demons and kicking ass, and lately, her days have been spent with her on-and-off-again lover, Ren, a fellow Grimm. But fate has other plans in store for Elle, plans that include Michael, the prince from her youth who broke her heart.

“What do you choose…live for her? Or would you rather die?” 

That was the choice Michael was given all those years ago. Although he knew she’d never forgive him, when Michael was given the chance to become a Grimm, he took it. Still, he isn’t so sure Elle needs him in her life. With a lover at her side and a mission before her, Elle looks like she’s doing just fine.

But the not-so-charming prince isn’t going to back off that easily…not if there’s a chance she might need him again. He’d do anything to save her. Kill for her, live for her, die for her…

Warning: This dark, twisted version of Cinderella involves demons, deceit, and desire between a princess and two sexy guardian angels, both determined to win the fair Cinderella.

Excerpt

“We’ve got to get inside tonight,” I told Ren. Halfway across the parking lot, I picked up my pace. “It’s getting darker in there. We’re going to lose more if we don’t move soon.”

There was so much life…so much emotion.

Lust. Anger. Jealousy. Need. Love. Rage. Hatred.

Emotions—uncontrolled emotions drew predators. That’s why the demons were here. Wherever there were people there would be emotion. And wherever there was emotion there would be demons.

Wherever there are demons there would be Grimms.

There would be us. Unlikely guardian angels trying to keep the unsuspecting mortals from making bad, bad and worse mistakes.

That was our job. We would do it. We would do the job. We would deal with the succubi and incubi. We would find the king or queen and eliminate them. Then Ren or I would hang around long enough to make it clear this area was now under the Circle’s watch.

If I had my way about it, it would be Ren hanging around. If at all possible, I wanted to clear the hell out the second we dealt with the king or queen.

I was planning on getting out of Ohio as quick as possible.

Maybe head for New York this time. Or Chicago—

No. Screw that. I was going to Milan. And the Circle could pick up the damn ticket, too.

I’d asked for a break and I’d ended up with an assignment instead.

They owed me that break, damn it.

I took a deep breath and glanced down at my clothes. Barbie goes badass. That was the look I’d been going for. I had on a black silk corset and, unlike some of the corsets I’d seen around lately, mine was the real thing—it pushed my boobs together and up, cinched my waist and kept my spine ramrod straight.

I was as comfortable in one as anybody could hope to be, but then again, I’d had a lot of practice. I’d grown up wearing these things when I had to—thanks to a doting father, I hadn’t spent my entire childhood in one.

But I had worn them often enough.

Never one quite like this though. Black-on-black silk brocade with blood-red lacing. I’d paired it with leather pants and heels that would break my neck—if I fell, and if I could break my neck in such a mundane manner. Which I can’t. I’d pulled my blonde hair into a high ponytail, gone a little heavy with the black eyeliner and red lipstick.

Barbie does badass, with a little bit of Dominatrix Barbie thrown in for good measure.

“You look delicious,” Ren said as he kissed one bare shoulder. “You sure you don’t have a whip lying around?”

“Oh, please.” I smirked at him and took a few seconds to adjust the bodice. I had my pendant tucked between my breasts. Wasn’t very comfortable, but I couldn’t afford to have the wrong person see it, nor could I afford to be without it. There wasn’t any room for weapons on me, but that had been intentional.

I wanted to look around this first trip in, not fight. I’d made that clear to Ren as well, but he’d have weapons on him. I knew that as sure as I knew my own name.

Still, I knew I could trust him not to draw them unless he had to.

I just hoped nobody forced his hand…or mine. I might not have weapons, but I’m pretty far from helpless.

The air closer to the building felt hot and heavy, a warning of what lay inside.

I’d known from the get-go this wouldn’t be a quick, easy job. I might have been harboring hopes, but they were dying, fading, withering away with every second I remained close to this abyss of darkness.

“Should be a piece of cake,” he had told me. Those had been my boss’s exact words.

“Will, one of these days, I’m going to kick your ass,” I said to myself.

“Hmmm?”

I shook my head. “Just grumbling about Will. The bastard had the nerve to say this should be an easy job.”

“Well, so far all I’ve done is make out with you in view of others and watch other people making out as well,” Ren shot me his trademark devilish smile and in a low voice added, “Seems remarkably easy.”

“Your luck is about to break.”

This wasn’t going to be easy. It wasn’t going to be quick. We would have to kill while we were here. Not tonight, but sometime before the job was over. I knew it as sure as I was standing there. Possession by succubi or incubi was subtle…a seduction. It started out as just a minor need. Sex—something pleasant…maybe even harmless.

But the more the victim fed that need—through sex, naturally—the stronger the hold. It was like an addiction.

In the early days it was possible to rid the victim of the demon’s presence. Possible, but not easy, and the longer it went on the harder it would become.

Sooner or later, without intervention, the demon would be in control and the need for sex would dominate over anything else. Everything else.

Either the victim literally fucked themselves to death—forgoing food, water, anything and everything that wasn’t sex. The other scenario—the need for sex became so overwhelming they lost all inhibitions and all sense of right and wrong.

I’d saved people in the past before one of the possessed could rape them.

Somebody in there was already too far gone. Either they were killing themselves without realizing it, or I’d have to kill them when they went too far. Personally, I’d rather find whoever it was and just end it now.

A waste. Such a waste. Somebody had given up everything, just for the fun of a few quick fucks.

Do I sound slightly bitter? Sorry. Can’t help it. I’d lost my rose-colored glasses a few hundred years ago. Right about the time I lost my virginity and, shortly thereafter, my Prince Charming.

“Elle.”

Speak of the devil.

I knew that voice. It was the last voice I wanted to hear right now. Unless he was saying something along the lines of, “Ow, that hurts!” as I beat him across the head with a heavy, blunt object.

I stood there, frozen. Although I didn’t want to turn and face the music, my partner had no reservations.

I dug my fingers into Ren’s arm.

Why?

Will. Damn it. He’d done this—orchestrated this. The bastard.

Schooling my features, I turned around and I’m proud to say, I didn’t feel the urge to swoon. Not even for a second.

That angel face of his hadn’t changed at all in the past three hundred years.

He looked as perfect now as he had the day he kissed me for the first time.

Heat flashed through his grass-green eyes as he studied my clothes and despite myself, my belly clenched in response. Why is it that I can barely remember the name of my father, my stepmother, my friends growing up, but I can still remember the way it felt when he made love to me the first time? It had hurt…but then, after he’d cleaned me up, he’d lain between my legs and done things to me that had left me scandalized.

I can still remember the shock. I can still remember the pleasure.

And I can still remember the pain when I discovered the following night that he was engaged to be wed.

To my sister.

“Why…if it isn’t my Prince Charming.”

BN | iBooks | Kindle | Kobo 

The post I should probably mention… No Prince Charming… reissue!!! appeared first on Shiloh Walker.

For the Love of Jazz – Available on Kindle Unlimited

For you KU readers…

small town romantic suspense

 

Someone wants a secret to stay buried even if it means murder.

Since waking up in a hospital at age eighteen, accused of driving the car that killed his best friend, Jazz McNeil has lived with a guilty heart. Now, more than a decade later, he has returned to his hometown to raise his daughter and to uncover the truth about what happened that fateful summer. And gaze into the eyes of the girl whose life he shattered.

Though Anne-Marie Kincaid was told that Jazz was responsible for her brothers death all those years ago, she has never quite believed it. The facts dont quite fit; they never did. All she knows is, she still feels loved and safe when shes with Jazz, and that he misses her brother just as much as she.

This novel has been previously published, but has been revised and expanded.

Warning, this title contains the following: some hot sex and a crazy killer.

Amazon

to be released on other platforms at a later date

The post For the Love of Jazz – Available on Kindle Unlimited appeared first on Shiloh Walker.

Bourbon, Indies and Stuff

I was in Indy this weekend for Indies in Indy…it was their inaugural event and it was pretty fantastic. Sometimes you go to an event or a signing and you don’t sell a single book. You can have a great time and make connection, but not move anything.

Then you can go to one and sell more than half the new release you brought, or more. Sometimes you realize you even sold enough to cover what you invested in the event.

That was the case here which is all around awesome, and it was the first event.

So…if you are looking a fun one, I hear they are doing it again next year.

Pieces of Me…now out!

 

Pieces of Me

“Stop,” he said. Earlier, his voice had been level and easy, no anger showing. Now he practically shook with it. “Don’t say shit like that about yourself, okay?”

“What, that I’m crazy?” I leaned back, desperate to get some room between us. I could feel the heat of him on my skin and it went licking through me, a teasing, taunting torment of all the things I’d never feel again.

In the dead of night, the silvery moonlight shining down on us, I couldn’t see him well. His eyes were like bottomless pools of pure velvet and I could just fall in and lose myself. Part of me wanted to do just that.

“Yes.” He lifted one hand, placed it on my breastbone. The heat of it was a shock and until that moment, I hadn’t realized I was cold. Now, I couldn’t stop shivering.

“Why not?” I stared at him. “It’s the truth. After what he did to me, it’s a miracle I’m not crazier than I am.”

“Stop.” He shook his head.

I laughed softly. “You know, if anybody should be upset by the fact that my sanity is somewhat questionable, it’s me. But it’s nothing more than the truth. I have PTSD, I suffer from panic attacks that almost incapacitate me, and I deal with OCD now—things I never had before he got hold of me. My fear of him still runs my life, and I know it. If that doesn’t certify me as mental, then what does it make me?”

“A survivor.” The words were delivered in a flat, hard voice. “I don’t need to know what he did to you, unless you’re ready to tell me. But I know a survivor when I see one.”

I stilled, caught off guard.

His eyes held me captive as he leaned in, his breath a soft, warm caress on my cheek. “A survivor…damaged, determined. And so damn brave. The last woman on earth I should want. But fuck it all. I still want you.”

I blinked, my lashes drooping low as I watched him through them. That concealing veil wasn’t enough to hide behind, though. His hand slid higher, curved around my neck and tangled in my hair, tugging my head back.

He stared down at me. “Tell me to stop.”

Simple words.

Easy words.

And if I thought about it for even a minute, maybe that’s just what I’d do.

Tell him to stop.

Instead, I dropped my gaze and stared at his mouth.

I knew that mouth, almost intimately.

I say almost, because you can’t really know a person’s body intimately until you’ve touched that body, studied it, learned it with your hands…maybe even with your mouth. Tasted it with your own, felt it against your own.

A harsh groan ripped out of him and then his mouth covered mine and the world faded away.

For a few brief moments, nothing else existed. Not even fear.

It was just him and me, and that incredible kiss.

Amazon |  BN  |  Play  |  Kobo | Book Depository | iBooks | Smashwords

The post Pieces of Me…now out! appeared first on Shiloh Walker.

A month

It’s been a month since D died.

Actually, more than a month. One month, ten days by the time this posts.

I feel each day, the passage of it.

Grief is a crazy kind of thing, a nagging, gnawing, annoying one and I hate it.

There are mornings when I wake up and it’s like…I don’t remember.  Things feel normal.  Then reality crashes into me and I remember and it’s like losing him all over again.  For thirty-nine years, I had this annoying, adorable little brother D.  For forty-one years, I’ve had this annoying, less adorable, straight-laced older brother S and for thirty seven years, another adorable, annoying baby brother DS.

We’ve always been four.  That was what I told my husband the night we were at the hospital waiting to see Dad after his heart attack.

But we’re weren’t four anymore.

There are only three of us now. Because D is gone.

And some mornings, I wake up and it’s like my brain has skipped over that part and I have to remember all over again.

Other days, I wake up sick at heart, my head full of snot (yes, gross), but still…full of snot and tears because I cried half the night.

My bed is the only safe place to cry. My dad is living with us, my niece is living with us. Sometimes D’s youngest is here too.  They can’t go back to the house yet–hard to call the place home because it doesn’t like it can be their home now.

D’s youngest–man…he makes me laugh and reminds me so much of D–he called himself by our last name a few weeks ago and while it seems cute, it’s not.  He’s not part of the family I’ve made with my husband–he’s family, to the bone.  But he’s part of the family my brother created with his wife.  He’s too young, too innocent and for him, those words matter little, but it was another stab in the heart.

Another reminder that D is gone.

It still doesn’t seem real.  I don’t know why.  Nothing but reality could hurt like this. Nothing but reality could bite like this.

But…life goes on.

I’m finally at a point where I can write again.

I started listening to Jeaniene Frost’s Cat & Bones books on audio.  My concentration is too fractured for reading, but I need an escape and audio is good.

I see the end of the tunnel for Kit and Damon’s next book.

I went out with my husband last night…and cried at the table while we were eating out, holding onto his hand.

Grief is an ugly, messy emotion. But we only feel it for those we loved with everything we had in us. Love…that’s another ugly, messy emotion. We forget that sometimes…the underside of love is marred with pain.  There’s nothing to do for this kind of hurt but keep on going, cling to those you love and remember what’s important.

Forget about the petty slights, the petty people…it’s funny how death brings the ugliness and pettiness out of some.  That can’t matter because if we let it, it makes the misery worse, and the misery is enough on its own.

You just take each day. You focus on making sure you’ve got the money for bills, for groceries, you focus on work, you try to sleep.  You do it again the next day, the next…

Sooner or later, enough days pass and maybe the pain will lessen.

That’s all I’m holding out for right now. A day when the pain doesn’t lay me low.

The post A month appeared first on Shiloh Walker.

Prime stuff, Kit stuff, Damon stuff, story stuff

 

Amazon Prime Day is coming up.  You get a lot of sales.  If you start by clicking thru my links, I get bonuses.

I’ve got some titles on KU so if you’ve never read my work, here’s a nice way to try them.  Check out the titles available.  If you’re not an audible member, it’s a good time to try that out, cuz they’ve got deals, too…and Kit is in audio.

Also, if you’re a prime member, it’s a good idea to watch the prime day page.

The Blade Song Anniversary Edition with the Damon Prequel (and more) will be available soon…maybe even next week.  This book includes Blade Song, A Stroke of Dumb Luck, Bladed Magic, Damon, and Proceed with Caution (a collection of deleted scenes/chapters & character POVs).

And…

A spiffy new cover.  If you’ve never read the series, this is a great time to start!

Preorder links…

Amazon | BN | iBooks | Kobo

Or…buy now at

Smashwords | Payloadz

 

I’ve got a new book ut this month…!!!

Pieces of Me, a romantic thriller, will be out in ebook & print…

Amazon |  BN  |  Play  |  Kobo | Apple

The post Prime stuff, Kit stuff, Damon stuff, story stuff appeared first on Shiloh Walker.

If you’ve been craving a Kit Colbana fix…

Here’s your chance to get it early.

But act…fast.

Patrons add sometimes  get my patron-supported reads early. HAUNTED BLADE, book 6 in the Kit Colbana series, is such a title.

I plan to finish it in July.

Want in on it?

Info here…

The post If you’ve been craving a Kit Colbana fix… appeared first on Shiloh Walker.

Damon – A Kit Prequel

Kit was introduced to the world five years ago.

A few months ago, a special group of readers helped me introduce Damon’s side of the story. When I started the Patreon platform, the original intent was that the short stories written for my patrons would be specifically for them.

However…

A few months ago, my life was very much different.

For those who don’t follow me on social media or haven’t visited my Shiloh side, you’re probably unaware but at the end of May, my world sort of shattered. My baby brother took his life after years of battling depression, addiction, bipolar disorder and alcoholism.

He was found by my father who suffered a massive heart attack only moments after cops arrived on scene.

In the days and weeks that followed, my sister in law and two of her kids have moved in with us, and my father will shortly move in as well.

My household has…well, grown exponentially, while my income has dropped.

I talked things over with the readers who have opted to become patrons, because I started bouncing an idea around.

Kit’s five, after all. (And what a mouthy five year old she is…).  It should be celebrated.

I had this story that other readers would probably enjoy.  But it wouldn’t be out without their support.

They have told me, emphatically…”TAKE CARE OF YOUR FAMILY. PUT IT OUT THERE IF IT WILL HELP…”

So…that’s what I’m doing.

The special edition is available at the current price of $2.99 only through the link below.

The book includes Blade Song, and a snazzy new cover.

It will be released on other platforms later this summer.  This avenue allows me to receive funds immediately and the money is collected by paypal – securely!

You can also go directly to the book’s download page.

The book set, as mentioned, will be loaded to other platforms this summer, but the price may be a bit higher as other platforms will, naturally, take their cut.

The stories included:

A Stroke Of Dumb Luck

Bladed Magic

Damon

Blade Song

Proceed with Caution

Proceed with Caution isn’t a story, per se.  It’s a collection of deleted scenes, character POVs and odd snippets that I’ve had tucked into various places.  One of the deleted scenes is two chapters long and has never been seen by anybody.

The post Damon – A Kit Prequel appeared first on Shiloh Walker.

The worst week of my life

It has been the worst week of my life.

It’s been a week since my brother took his own life.

For years he battled with addiction and alcoholism. Earlier this year he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and depression. In hindsight it makes sense, his issues with addiction, with alcoholism.

Many people with bipolar and depression self-medicate, using alcohol and/or drugs to level out or elevate their mood.

They wear the mask of a clown around people so they see only the smile they painted on while underneath they are breaking inside.

My brother was more than a little broken. But he had a beautiful heart.

There are things he has done and said in recent months that I know were not him. It were his addiction, his depression and it was the bipolar.

He felt alone in so many ways. But he wasn’t.

If you’re one of the people who suffer from mental illness, please know you’re not alone. You have people who care. Whether I know you or not, I care.

The post The worst week of my life appeared first on Shiloh Walker.