Shiloh Walker's Blog, page 33

Oh, those tropes…

I’ve mentioned the tropes before. The romance storylines… friends to lovers, friends to lovers, brother’s best friend…amnesia pregnancy.

I’ve done quite a few tropes, but this is my first time with pregnancy and amnesia.

It’s due out next week. You should read it.

Love is the greatest risk of all.

After seven days in a coma, Hannah Parker remembers nothing about the accident that landed her in the hospital–or how she ended up pregnant with Brannon’s baby, the man she’s loved since high school. Her body and heart have burned for him for years, and when she wakes up, he’s sleeping by her bedside, anxious to keep her safe at all costs. But as Hannah struggles with her amnesia, a threat looms closer–one that could have deadly consequences if she recovers her memories. She will have to trust Brannon completely if she is to keep what haunts her at bay…and their baby safe….

Brannon McKay spent the last ten years fantasizing about Hannah. In his mind, he’s explored every passionate scenario he can think of while, in real life, Brannon took their budding relationship and threw it away with both hands. Hannah doesn’t remember what happened but now that she is awake, Brannon would rather die than watch her walk away again. When Hannah and his unborn child’s lives are threatened, Brannon must stake claim to the woman who has held his heart captive for years…or risk disaster tearing them apart…

excerpt

Hannah eased away, looking at him from under her lashes.

Her tongue slid out, wet her lips and he had to clench his jaw, remind himself of just how fragile she was right now—not just physically, either.  He could still see fading bruises on her face, the fading pink marks on her hands from where she’d been cut when the car wrecked.

It got so much harder to remember that when she reached up and touched his mouth.

“I know we’ve kissed,” she said, her voice low and husky.   “Sometimes, I almost think I remember it.  But then it’s gone.  And it’s driving me crazy.”

“Hannah…”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth, lingered there a moment and then she looked back at him.

Her eyes were huge and dark, a heat burning there that threatened to consume him—and damn if he’d mind.

“I want that memory back, Brannon.  I want to know how you taste, how your mouth feels on mine.  Will you kiss me?”

Well, hell.  It would take a stronger man than him to walk away from that.

Cupping her face in his hands, he arched her head back.  Their first kiss had been a mix of fury and frustrated passion.  This one wouldn’t be like that.  He’d kiss her the way he should have kissed her to begin with.

Slowly, he lowered his head, brushing his mouth against hers, once, twice.

Her lips parted on a sigh.

But he didn’t take that offering just yet.

Instead, he caught her lower lip between his and sucked lightly, listening as her breathing hitched.  Her hands came up to grasp his waist and he moved in closer, letting his body rest against the powerhouse curves of hers.

She made a hungry noise in her throat and opened her mouth under his.

Still, he didn’t deepen the kiss—much.

He traced the line of her lips with his tongue, learning the curves as if this was the first time he’d ever had the chance. For her, it was.  Maybe it was for him, too.  They’d start over.  Completely over.  And he’d make sure that this time, she knew she mattered to him.

Hannah grew impatient and tried to take control of the kiss, her tongue coming out to curl and stroke against his.  He eased back, whispering against her lips.  “You wanted me to kiss you, baby.”

“Then do it.”  She bit his lower lip.

That demanding nip set his blood to boiling but he kept an iron grip on his control, teasing the entrance of her mouth with quick, light strokes,  She caught his tongue and sucked on him and the blood began to drain southward, his cock thickening.

Just a kiss, he told himself.  Just a kiss.

Her hands slid down to grab his hips, pulling him more firmly against her and he had to keep reminding himself that this was just a kiss.  Nothing more.

Her breathing sped up.

His heart pounded harder, faster.

The taste of her flooded him as he sought out the hidden depths of her mouth, learning her in a way he’d never taken the time to do before.

She began to move against him, her hips circling impatiently.  But he was still in control.  He thought.  Right up until she slid a hand between them.  A shudder wracked him as she stroked him through his jeans.

Aw, fuck…

A fist pounded against the door.

They broke apart, panting and staring at each other.

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Shadowed Blade….out now!

Out now…

Hell took the form of Damon shifting to his half form, over seven feet tall, his muscled pelt covered in a golden pelt and spotted. His clothes fell in shreds around him as he launched himself at Scott.

My mind denied what it was seeing.

Scott flung up a hand and Damon flew to the far side of the room while Scott leaped toward me. I whipped up my sword, my mind furiously trying catch up with what was going on. “Stay back,” I warned.

A grin—one that seemed both insanely out of place and strangely familiar—twisted Scott’s lips.

“Now, now, Kit…is that any way to say hello to an old friend?”

The voice—oh, shit.

Those words had no sooner left his lips than a growl ripped out of the shifters who’d burst into the room like their lives depended on it.

And one of them was…Scott.

Damon was off the floor and moving again.

Instinct screamed.

Move now—think later.

I swore as I dove for Damon and the Scott-lookalike. “I’m going to kill you,” I told the man who’d somehow managed to sneak into the Lair. Of all places.

He chuckled, his visage starting to waver. “You won’t be saying that in a minute. I’m here for a reason…you know that.”

He leaped up and in a movement that defied physics—and the human body—as he flipped and sailed through the air, placing his body behind mine.

Damon made a deep, deep noise, one that spoke of fury—and I heard something else, too.

Perhaps Chang would recognize it, but I doubted anybody else would.

It was fear.

He saw only some unknown enemy and the man was now at my back.

I held up a hand. “Stop…Damon…stop. He’s not…” I heaved out a breath before I said the one thing that might keep the man in front of me from trying to kill the man behind me. “He’s a friend. He’s saved my life twice now.”

Damon slowed for a split second, but nothing changed the animalistic set to his features.

Behind me, there was a faint whisper. “You’d think I’d remember how sharp their noses are, wouldn’t you?”

“I hope you enjoyed yourself,” Damon said, his voice a predatory growl. “Every man should have a little fun before he dies.”

“Oh, I don’t do this for fun, son. Trust me, this is a pain in the ass.”

“Don’t be a more of a moron than you already are,” I snapped over my shoulder.

Chang was staring at the man behind me with eyes that promised death. This was going to be ugly. The man had breached their home—their safehold. Unless he had a good reason for doing that…

Damon made another move toward me, green-gold eyes locked on the intruder.

“Damon…I know him.” I reached back, daring to risk one quick glance—my eyes connected with eyes of pure white—all white. No pupil, no discernible iris and whiter than any mortal eye should be.

And Nova, for all intents and purposes, was mortal.

A freakishly powerful mortal with psychic skills that weren’t supposed to exist, but still, he was mortal.

“Hello, Nova.”

He looked at me and grinned. “Kit.”

Damon took a step forward.

Chang placed a hand on his shoulder and they shared a look. The subtle nod Damon gave the other man unsettled me and I pondered ripping my hair out when Chang was the one to move forward to meet Nova.

I wouldn’t call Damon the more reasonable one of the two, but there were times I could get Damon to listen to me. If Chang made up his mind…

Nova slid to the side, shifting so that he faced all of us, although he was clearly keeping his focus on the shifters. “Come on, boys…let’s all take a deep breath and calm down.” He shot them what was considered his…less crazy smile. “I’ve been here three times today and I’ve called five asking, then demanding then begging to speak to Kit. It’s urgent, I said. It’s life or death, I said. And I’m told to leave a message at her office.”

He snorted and shot me a sidelong look. “Kit, how often do you check messages at your office?”

“Get to the point, Nova.”

He hitched up a shoulder. “I’m trying to be polite and explain why I felt the need to take drastic measures, Kit. In a minute, you’ll be just as pissed as I am. The third time I came to the gate and said I absolutely had to see you…” The whites of his eyes started to glow.

Oh, fuck…

“See, I was told, We don’t listen to urgent messages from the likes of you, meat. Get out.” Nova’s smile went cold. “The guards you have at the door really should show more courtesy—I could have turned them into meat. But I showed restraint.”

Chang made no response, just took another slow step toward Nova.

“You really should have left a message at her office,” Damon said.

“Kit sucks at checking her messages. I thought this kind of thing—the lives of some friends and all—was a bit more important.” Nova cocked his head. “But if not…well, we can get downright nasty in here.”

Lives of some friends…?

“Nova?” I whispered.

Scott—the real one—had circled around. I whipped my gun out and leveled it at his knee. “Don’t. I like you, Scott, but if you even think of trying to move me out of the way…I’ll put you on the ground.”

Nova chuckled. “Now it gets fun.”

I fought the urge to turn and punch him in the nose. “One of these days, I’ll find a way to thank Justin properly for introducing us, Nova.”

“You can do that by saving his life, Kit. Now…”

I spun to stare at him, the gun falling limp to my side. I was the one to lunge for Nova. And he didn’t try to stop me. “What?”

“Now…ask me why I’m here,” he said gently.

“Nova.”

“Somebody grabbed Colleen and Justin, Kit.”

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Shadowed Blade…Chapter One

Something wicked this way comes…
The arrival of a very important person in her office seemed to be the start of a lot of problems for Kit Colbana, investigator extraordinaire.  Claiming that he needed somebody with her special skillset, he sends her on a series of jobs that made little to no sense until one culminated with both her and her partner, Justin barely escaping with their lives.
Back in Orlando, they go their separate ways to recover, Justin heading to the house of a local witch, while Kit returns to the Lair, where she’s recently been living with her lover Damon, the Alpha of the Southern Cat Clans.
There’s barely a chance for to catch her breath before trouble of the highest order comes knocking on her door. This time, it’s the form of a psychic by the name of Nova.  Nova has bad, bad news…Justin has gone missing and so has the witch who was going to put him up while he healed. Colleen, one of Kit’s closest, dearest friends.
With all sorts of non-humans disappearing, fury doesn’t even touch what Kit is feeling as she heads out to hunt down the people responsible.
But Kit isn’t the only one out on a hunt…somebody is hunting for her…somebody Kit would rather never, ever see again.

*****




It was just pure dumb luck that I found her at all.

The… Well, I can’t say it was a house, but it had been her home. She’d left it weeks ago, maybe longer. It was dying, too.

Granted, when I’d been sent out to look for her, I’d thought maybe it was another wild goose chase—the first job had been a pain in the ass, too.

But this one…

Hell.

I was staring at a dryad.

A real dryad.

She turned her head and stared at me with eyes the color of good, strong oak. In her hand, she had a branch she used to draw circles in the earth.
After a few seconds of us studying each other, she went back to looking out over the river, her gaze sad.

“What is it you want?” she asked, her voice reedy and thin.

Like she was fading, dying as swiftly as the tree she’d left behind.

As I fumbled for an answer, she lifted the branch and plucked off one of the leaves. They were still green. But the moment she plucked that single leaf away, it withered, shriveled, and then it was dust—even before it hit the ground.

“I…” Uneasy, I licked my lips. “Your tree is dying.”

“No.” Those dark brown eyes came back to mine. “It is already dead. It died when I left it. It just hasn’t figured that out yet. It will. But that isn’t what you want.”

“Why did you leave it?”

“Because the wind whispered it was time.” She lifted a shoulder and the wispy strips of cloth that made up her garments drifted with the movement before settling back into black. She was more naked than clothed—covered at her breasts and hips. Her skin was a mottled mix of brown and tan. She could stand in the trees and scarcely be seen, but standing out here on the side of the road and gazing into the river, she stood out.

That was how I’d found her.

I’d been heading back to East Orlando, carefully thinking through the call I’d have to make, when I saw her. I’d been driving the backroads, mostly because I wanted to think, and all the traffic on the main roads annoyed me.

The last thought I’d had before caught sight of the woman had been…I never should have taken this stupid job.

My current client—I now realized—was a self-important, pompous prick.

But I’d accepted the contract, and for another three weeks, I was giving him twenty hours a week for work of a sensitive nature. His term, not mine.

The first job, I’d been asked to find out if there was any truth to the rumors of a Green Man who might be living in Alabama—he had a locale and a few names; he wanted me to look around and see what I thought. I’d also been asked to talk to the families of a couple missing NHs while in the area. Missing non-humans was why I’d taken the damn job to begin with.

Missing people. He had connections.

There weren’t many who had more connections than the President of the United States of America, after all.

When I’d told him I didn’t see the connection between a possible Green Man and the disappearances, he’d pointed out that a Green Man would have ways of seeing things happening in nature that I could never see.

Well…true enough.

But if there was something weirder than a shifter in those decaying woods, then I hadn’t felt it.

My boss hadn’t seemed bothered when I’d been unsuccessful. But I hadn’t wanted to tell him I’d found a dryad’s tree…and no dryad.

Right now, though, I wanted even less to tell him I’d found the dryad.

“The wind told you it was time?” Raking her up and down with a look, I shook my head. “What else is the wind telling you to do?”

“The wind tells me to do nothing.” A serene smile curled her lips as she plucked off another leaf. This time, when it shriveled and faded, she seemed to fade a little more, too.

Oh, shit.

“Is that from your tree?” I asked softly.

“Yes. All that is left, all that is living.” She plucked another leaf. “Once it is gone…”

“So why are you killing it?”

“Because unlike Albus, I am not strong. I cannot stand up to pain and torture. Even cutting down a single tree would break me, and he has much more in mind than cutting down trees.”

Abruptly, she wrenched a handful of leaves, four, five, six… Dust blew around me and I rushed to her as she swayed, then staggered. She felt lighter than air as I eased her down. Her skin felt like the smooth bark on a young tree. “What are you talking about?”

She just shook her head. “It’s been a long time coming. This…this is best. I’ll see Albus soon.”

She tried to fumble a few more leaves off but her hands shook too much.

“Please.” She looked at me.

My phone rang.

She continued to watch me with those calm, patient eyes. Patient, solid.

Like an oak.

I took the branch and stripped the remaining leaves off as the phone rang again.

By the third ring, she was withering away, turning to nothing but dust and ash that blew away in the soft, chilly fall breeze.

I answered the fourth ring.

“Ms. Colbana, I was calling for an update.”

“I found her.” Dragging a finger through the dust, I rose to my feet and stared down. Even the branch was gone. “She’s dead, sir.”


*
“He’s pissed.”

Shanelle Maguire was a beautiful bitch and she delivered the words in a stark voice as she dropped into the chair across from my desk.

“I gathered that.” I’d just finish talking to him myself. Whitmore was a pain in the ass. “Did he send you here to snarl and snap at me in hopes of making me do better?”

She snorted. “Like that’d do any good.” She skimmed her hands back over her hair in what I’d come to realize was a nervous habit. Beautiful bitch or not, I’d come to sort of like her over the past ten days. She was blunt and didn’t hold back the truth, something I could definitely appreciate.

She was also manipulative as hell—something I less appreciated—but she knew how to make things happen. “Look, I was standing out—”

“This is my shocked face.”

“Shut up,” she said, sighing in annoyance. “I heard you explaining what happened. What were you going to do? She wanted to die.
 Although…wow. Picking leaves off a tree branch—that’s crazy.”

“Dryads have a connection to their chosen trees.” I shrugged and thought of the forest giant I’d gone back to look at before returning home. It hadn’t turned to dust, but it was dead. It had been an oddity, standing there in the middle of the forest where so many trees had already gone brilliantly orange and yellow, but its leaves had been green…mostly. Some, though, had been going brown. Not yellow or orange, the way you’d think.

But brown.

All the leaves had been gone the second time I saw it and the branches hung despondent, as if the tree’s strength had simply drained out of it with the life of the dryad gone. I’d touched the bark and it had crumbled under the light pressure.

A few storms, a few hard rains, and it would come crashing down.

“So she just lay there, plucked the last few leaves and died, huh?” Shanelle wasn’t even looking at me. She was staring off at nothing, looking about as tired as I felt—although I doubted it was for the same reason.

“Faded into dust,” I said, carefully dancing around the fact that I wasn’t telling the complete truth. I’d had to do the same with Whitmore, but for some reason, I was reluctant to explain that I had been the one to strip away those few remaining leaves.

Whitmore had really wanted to talk to that dryad.

My gut was all twisted and hot as I remembered what she had said.

“Because unlike Albus, I am not strong. I cannot stand up to pain and torture. Even cutting down a single tree would break me and he has much more in mind than cutting down trees.”

Who was Albus?

Who was the he she’d been referring to? I had a bad feeling it might be my client—but there was no way I could even try to figure that out without questioning him; everything in me was saying Don’t…

I thought of asking Shanelle, probing gently. I knew how to dance around things and be subtle. It wasn’t my greatest skill, but I could do it.

While I was debating, though, the door swung open.

The sight of the man standing there was enough to distract me, though.

“Justin…”

I hurtled across the room and caught him up in a hug so hard, he was laughing and wheezing at the same time. “Careful there, Kit…I break.”

I didn’t care. “You’re awake.”

“Seems that way. Although if you keep squeezing the life out of me…”

Two weeks ago, Justin had almost died. The first week, he’d been in a coma. He’d started to stir, but another friend of ours, Colleen had used her healing to put him back under.

“The swelling in his brain has gone down, but there’s still a lot of healing to do—the area of the brain that controls magic has been heavily damaged and the longer he rests, the more likely it will be that he’ll regain full control.”

We’d agreed. He needed to stay asleep for a bit longer, but Colleen could only hold him for a few more days before she had to bring him back.

“I didn’t know she was letting you up today.”

He patted my back when I sniffed.

Absently, I’d realized Shanelle had left and I still needed to talk to her. But that could wait.
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Mod Podge Hodge Modge & Book Art

I’ve figured out a way to use up the paper from the edits I get back.  Paper mache type stuff and book art.  Sorta.  I’m still figuring it out.

These are still in progress, but there’s a bottle I’m doing, a bowl and a cup-like thing that can be used as a pencil/pen holder.

I’ve also discovered something that might be borderline criminal…my kids never learned paper mache in school.  So I’m teaching my daughter.

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Her Best Friend’s Lover…now available…again

In the midset of deadline madness, I sort of forgot something. Like a book release. HER BEST FRIEND’S LOVER was my first published romance, a friends to lovers romance that I wrote before I realized that was even a trope [okay, I didn’t even know what tropes were].

It’s now available again in ebook… I’ll get the print version up shortly.

Dale Stoner loved women, and women seemed to love him right back. He danced around the line that led to seriousness, but any time one woman got too close, he two-stepped back, quick and pretty as you please. He’s fallen in love before and he doesn’t want to go that route again. No woman was ever going to get close to him again.

The only exception is his best friend, Lauren. She’s the only one who really matters. But she’s his friend…and guys don’t sleep with their best friends, do they?

Lauren wasn’t the kind of woman to believe in love at first sight, but then she met Dale. He’s everything she shouldn’t want—a flirt, a woman chaser…and he’s also in love with somebody else.

But one hot, steamy night changes everything…

Excerpt

“You sure are pretty, Lauren,” he said, grinning up at her. “If you don’t mind my saying so.”

“Thank you,” she said politely, a smile tugging the corners of her mouth as she turned her head to look at him. “Of course, I realize your judgment is a tad bit impaired right now.”

“Tad bit, my ass,” he muttered, enjoying the sensation of the room spinning around. The only thing in focus was Lauren, with her watchful gray eyes and amused smile. Dale lowered his gaze to her mouth—that wide, lush mouth, curved up in amusement. Carefully, concentrating on each separate movement, he rose to his feet.

“Why don’t I fix you something to eat and then clean up this mess?” she asked, sidestepping neatly when he reached for her, then positioning herself at his side as he tried to steady himself.

“Not hungry,” he told her, a sweet smile on his face. He reached out, stroked his hand down the satiny skin of her cheek. “Soft,” he murmured, turning his hand around and stroking his knuckles down her jaw to her neck.

“So are we friends again?” His gaze, bleary and bloodshot, wandered over her face. “You here to make me feel all better?”

“Yes. That’s why I’m going to fix you something to eat so you don’t wake up with a hangover the size of Kansas,” she said steadily, even though her heart started tripping when his eyes started to linger, none too subtly, on her mouth.

“Don’t wanna eat,” he sulked, reaching up to touch his index finger to her bottom lip. “Not unless you’re on the menu.”

Drunk or not, he knew heat in a woman’s eyes. And what he saw flare in her gaze was a damn forest fire. He moved up, aligning his body next to hers. With a slow, wicked grin, he asked, “So whaddya say? Can I eat you?” Lowering his head, he lapped at her neck, one long slow stroke of his tongue that set his mouth ablaze, craving another taste.

“Back off, Dale,” she said, taking a quick step back.

“Hmm,” he murmured, following each retreating step. “Why don’t you kiss me and make me all better, beautiful?” he asked, knowing exactly where he wanted her to kiss.

A reluctant, amused grin tugged at her mouth but she shook her head. “Fuck off,” she ordered, dodging him yet again.

“I’d rather fuck you,” he replied, reaching out and catching hold of her hand.

“You need to eat, take some aspirin and go to bed,” she told him. “Otherwise you are going to wish you were dead in the morning. You’ll feel better about all this tomorrow.”

“Not hungry,” he repeated. “And I can feel better now, if you’ll just let me.” Curving his hand around the back of her neck, he drew her to him, leaned down and pressed his mouth to the corner of hers, nibbling. “Hmm, that’s better, baby.” Dale was pretty certain he was doing something he shouldn’t. But he was drunk enough, needy enough. Damn it, lonely enough. And here was Lauren. He thought he had lost her; sweet, gentle, logical Lauren who could put his chaotic mind to ease just by being there.

“Dale,” Lauren said, her voice shaky now, as well. “Dale, stop it.”

“Why?” he asked absently as he moved from the corner of her mouth to her stubborn chin, then down to her slender neck. Lauren fit against him perfectly, he noted. Curve to curve, she fit against his body as if she had been made specifically for him. Why in hell had he been focusing on delicate little women that he had to bend over to kiss?

“You’re lonely. I’m lonely. Maybe together, we won’t be so lonely.” A little warning light went off in some distant corner of his clouded mind, but he easily ignored it, intently feasting on the taste of soft smooth flesh.

“Didn’t we just get done discussing this, Dale?” she asked, forcing a light-hearted tone into her voice even as her knees went weak and her throat went tight.

“I dunno. Did we?” he asked, nuzzling her ear.

“Sex isn’t the answer to everything,” Lauren said, trying to step back, only to have him bring her firmly up against him once more.

“Doesn’t have to be. Just needs to be the answer for this,” he whispered, nibbling along the line of her collar bone while one hand roamed to her waist, freeing the tail of her shirt from her jeans. She tasted good. His mouth meandered back up and locked onto hers while he pressed the flat of his hand to her waist and slid it upward, bringing her body in full contact with his, locking her against him.

This. Lauren had been dreaming of just this for an eternity. And her dreams were nowhere near the reality, she decided, as he crushed his mouth to hers as though he meant to devour her whole. Lauren quivered under that clever mouth, quivered as he ran those long-fingered, callused hands over her bare back.

This is wrong, she thought, this has to stop. Right here and now. She would. End it. Right now. As she swore that, he pulled back just slightly to lower his mouth to her neck. The end result was a shudder that wracked her from head to toe and back again as he left her neck to cruise back up to her mouth.

Then her arm snaked up and curled over his shoulders. This was every dream she had ever had.

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Like the older woman, younger man thing?

A Wrecked Novel

One of the Barnes brothers, Sebastien has always felt blessed. Not only does he have an amazing family, but he’s become a Hollywood golden boy who has everything he’s ever wanted—with one exception. He’s had a thing for Marin since he was a kid, but when he finally summons the courage to ask her out, she turns him down. Marin is ready to settle down, she wants commitment and stability, and Sebastien is still too much of a playboy, caught up in the wild life of the spotlight.

Still reeling from the rejection, Sebastien’s luck runs out later that night when he saves a girl from an assault. The shining knight role fits him just fine, but his armor—and his perfect life—become tarnished when the near-deadly attack lands him in the hospital. Physically scarred, he gives up acting and retreats from everybody.

If anyone can pull Sebastien back from the abyss, it’s Marin. But first she has to convince him that beauty is not only skin deep…

♦

“I’m not leaving you alone like this.  You need to talk to me.”

“Talk…” He murmured it, turning the word over in his mouth as though he was unfamiliar with it.

He shifted, using his body to nudge hers around until she was the one standing with her back to the railing and Sebastien crowded in closer.

Warning began to sound in her head.

Not that fear sort of warning.

No.

Her head was sending out a different sort of alarm—it was going…oh, shit…

Sebastien caught her wrists, tugging them away from his face.  She curled her fingers into her palms so that when he guided them to his chest, her hands were balled up into fists.

“You want to know what’s wrong, Marin?” he asked, pressing his face into her hair.  “Want to hear all my problems? You’re so determined to help me out…is that it?”

read more…

or…yanno…order

Guilty Needs…available now!

I know you love him…

Not the words you want to hear from your best friend. Especially when the him she is talking about is the man she’s married to. But when Alyssa Hutchins said those words, Bree realized her best friend knew the one secret she’d hoped to keep hidden for always.

Just before she died, Alyssa asked Bree to promise her something, but it’s a promise that Bree isn’t sure she can keep.

Colby Hutchins left town the day he buried his wife, but he couldn’t outrun the pain of losing her…nor could he outrun the guilt. The very night he buried his wife, he’d almost done the unthinkable. All Bree had done was offer comfort, but he had wanted more. Stillwants more.

Chased by guilty needs and taunted by dreams where Bree offers so much more than comfort, he returns home to close the book on the life that ended with his wife’s death. But he comes face to face with Bree and it sets everything inside him to burning all over him.

These two battered souls long to be together, but something unspoken lingers between them…

excerpt

He never realized he’d fallen asleep until the phone jerked him awake. He jumped, for a moment not recognizing where he was and his mind automatically went to Alyssa—he needed to check on her…but then he remembered.

In the distance, he could hear Bree’s low, quiet murmur and he blocked the sound of it out, tried to still the storm churning inside him. He needed to get out of here. The rain was still coming down, although from the sound of it, the downpour had lessened a little. He came up out of the chair, wadding up the blanket Bree must have draped over him. He threw it on the footstool and headed out of the den, hoping he could grab his jacket and slip outside.

Remembering that his car was still at the funeral home, he paused, but then just shook his head. He didn’t give a damn if he had to walk. He didn’t really have a destination in mind anyway—just not home. That was the only thing that mattered. He didn’t know if that house could ever be home again. He’d built it for Alyssa.

It hit him then, just as he went to grab his coat from the hook hanging by Bree’s side door. It hit him like a ton of bricks dropping down to crush him. Slamming a hand against the wall, he tried to keep from buckling under the weight. What hit him weren’t tears—such a simple term couldn’t explain the pain that boiled up from deep inside and threatened to kill him as it clawed its way out of him.

He never heard Bree come in, just knew that suddenly she was there, slipping an arm around his waist, then the other, holding him as he finally let himself acknowledge reality.

Alyssa was gone.

There would be no one last chance to hope and pray for a miracle, no more nights where he could lie awake and watch her while she slept. Gone.

* * * * *

Her back was on fire and her left leg was so numb, she was pretty sure it would take an hour just to be able to get any feeling back in it—if she was ever able to move. But she didn’t care, didn’t say anything. They were half-laying, half-kneeling, with his head in her lap and the fingers of one hand twined with hers, holding on as though he’d never let go.

Her own tears were blinding her, but she blinked them back.

She wasn’t sure when the silence between them started to change. It wasn’t a comfortable silence, or an easy one, but the grief between them kept it from being awkward. But it changed—more on her part than his—or at least she thought it had. But then she realized that his free hand rested on her thigh and his thumb was stroking back and forth. Through her skirt, she could feel his warmth and every slow stroke was enough to make her heart skip a beat. He wasn’t even aware he was doing it, she suspected—any more than she was aware that she was lazily stroking a hand through his silky hair.

The tension spiked between them and slowly, Colby lifted his head. His pupils were dilated with just a thin sliver of amber showing. The hand on her thigh stilled—tightened. His gaze dropped to her mouth. She hated how easily her body reacted, hated that she wanted more than anything to close the distance between them and press her lips to his. Hated it. Just as she hated knowing that she was weak enough to give him anything he might need, even if it was just some sort of comfort sex.

She hoped that wouldn’t happen, yet somewhere inside, part of her hoped it would. Colby might need comfort, but she needed him. She’d always needed him and she’d never had the chance.

His lashes drooped low, shielding his gaze. A harsh sigh shuddered out of him and then he shoved to his feet. Without looking at her, he walked out of the kitchen, pausing only long enough to grab a key ring from the small bowl by her phone. She heard the engine of her bike revving out in the driveway. As he pulled away, she thunked her head back against the cabinet at her back and closed her eyes.

“Nice work, Bree.”

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VIola… Kit’s next adventure…or Shadowed Blade

Something wicked this way comes…

The arrival of a very important person in her office seemed to be the start of a lot of problems for Kit Colbana, investigator extraordinaire.  Claiming that he needed somebody with her special skillset, he sends her on a series of jobs that made little to no sense until one culminated with both her and her partner, Justin barely escaping with their lives.

Back in Orlando, they go their separate ways to recover, Justin heading to the house of a local witch, while Kit returns to the Lair, where she’s recently been living with her lover Damon, the Alpha of the Southern Cat Clans.

There’s barely a chance for Kit to catch her breath before trouble of the highest order comes knocking on her door. This time, it’s the form of a psychic by the name of Nova.  Nova has bad, bad news…Justin has gone missing and so has the witch who was going to put him up while he healed. Colleen, one of Kit’s closest, dearest friends.

With all sorts of non-humans disappearing, fury doesn’t even touch what Kit is feeling as she heads out to hunt down the people responsible.

But Kit isn’t the only one out on a hunt…somebody is hunting for her…somebody Kit would rather never, ever see again.

It was just pure dumb luck that I found her at all.

The…well, I can’t say it was a house, but it had been her home. But she’d left it weeks ago, maybe longer.  It was dying, too.

Granted, when I’d been sent out to look for her, I’d thought maybe it was another wild goose chase—the first job had been a pain in the ass, too.

But this one…

Hell.

I was staring at a dryad.

A real dryad.

She turned her head and stared at me with eyes the color of good, strong oak. In her hand, she held a branch that she used to draw circles in the earth.

After a few seconds of us studying each other, she went back to looking out over the river, her gaze sad.

“What is it you want?” she asked, her voice reedy and thin.

Like she was fading, dying as swiftly as the tree she’d left behind.

As I fumbled for an answer, she lifted the branch and plucked off one of the leaves. They were still green.  But the moment she plucked that single leaf away, it withered, shriveled and then it was dust, even before it hit the ground.

“I…” Uneasy, I licked my lips.  “Your tree is dying.”

“No.”  Those dark brown eyes came back to mine.  “It is already dead.  It died when I left it.  It just hasn’t figured that out yet.  It will. But that isn’t what you want.”

“Why did you leave it?”

“Because the wind whispered it was time.” She lifted a shoulder and the wispy strips of cloth that made up her garments drifted with the movement before settling back into black.  She was more naked than clothed, covered at her breasts and hips and her skin was a mottled mix of brown and tan.  She could stand in the trees and scarcely be seen, but standing out her on the side of the road and gazing into the river, she stood out.

That was how I’d found her.

I’d been heading back to East Orlando, carefully think through the call I’d have to make when I saw her.

I’d been hired by somebody I’d recently decided was a self-important pompous prick but I’d accepted the contract and for another three weeks, I was giving him twenty hours a week for work of a sensitive nature.  The first job, I’d been asked to find out if there was any truth to the rumors of a Green Man who might be living in Alabama—he had a locale and a few names and he wanted my thoughts on it.  I’d also been asked to talk to the families of a couple missing NHs.  That was why I’d agreed to work with him anyway. Missing people. He had connections.

There weren’t many people who had more connections than the President of the United States of America, after all.

When I’d told him I didn’t see the connection between a possible Green Man and the disappearances, he’d pointed out that a Green Man would have ways of seeing things happening in nature that I could never see.

Well…true enough.

But if there was something weirder than a shifter in those woods, then I hadn’t felt it.

My boss hadn’t seem bothered when I’d been unsuccessful.  But I hadn’t wanted to tell him I’d found a dryad’s tree…and no dryad.

Right now, though, I wanted even less to tell him I’d found the dryad.

“The wind told you it was time?” Raking her up and down with a look, I shook my head.  “What else is the wind telling you to do?”

“The wind tells me to do nothing.”  A serene smile curled her lips as she plucked off another leave.  This time, when it shriveled and faded, she seemed to fade a little more, too.

Oh, shit.

“Is that from your tree?” I asked softly.

“Yes.  All that is left, all that is living.”  She plucked another leave. “Once it is gone…”

“So why are you killing it?”

“Because unlike Albus, I am not strong. I cannot stand up to pain and torture.  Even cutting down a single tree would break me and he has much more in mind than cutting down trees.”

Abruptly, she wrenched a handful of leaves, four, five, six…dust blew around me and I rushed to her as she swayed, then staggered.  She felt lighter than air as I eased her down.  Her skin felt like the smooth bark on a young tree.  “What are you talking about?”

She just shook her head.  “It’s been a long time coming. This…this is best. I’ll see Albus soon.”

She tried to fumble a few more leaves off but her hands shook too much.

“Please.” She looked at me.

My phone rang.

She continued to watch me with those calm, patient eyes. Patient, solid. Like an oak.

I took the branch and stripped the remaining leaves off as the phone rang again.

By the third ring, she was withering away, turning to nothing but dust and ash that blew away in the soft, chilly fall breeze.

I answered the fourth ring.

“Ms. Colbana, I was calling for an update.”

“I found her.” Dragging a finger through the dust, I rose to my feet and stared down.  Even the branch was gone.  “She’s dead, sir.”

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**releasing in April. Release date was changed. Explanation here.

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One of the Guys… Available now!

Reissuing an old backlist title!

Out today.

Complete and utter humiliation—that was what Jaynie felt as she stood in the doorway watching her fiancé playing out his ménage fantasies with his best friend and the cute neighbor from across the street. Bad enough that the cute and sexy neighbor is the woman her fiancé clearly wants her to be, but now she finds the man she loves in bed with the woman. To add fuel to the flame, he later tells her that she couldn’t be a real woman if she tried.

Humiliated and hurt, she’s hiding out at her best friend’s house and ends up coming across her friend’s older brother Brian. Brian…hot, sexy…also her partner from work. The last thing she needs is another complication, but she can’t think about that right now.

The heat in his eyes, the desire she can see on his face—that is something she does need and she offers him one night, no strings.

But one night of no strings turned into something neither of them could have counted on. Brian’s take-charge attitude in the bedroom and his oh, sexy, smile are getting to her.

Friends all their lives, they’ve played together, now they work together. Faced with the most important question of all, Jaynie has to figure out…can they  work together?

~*~

She closed her eyes and when she did, she saw Brian’s intense turquoise stare, hot and focused. If she started to panic or think, all she needed was that memory and she knew she’d feel steady enough to go through with this.

He wasn’t in his room. She turned and stared back down the staircase, uncertain of where he might be. He hadn’t gone out. She would have heard his truck if he’d left the house.

She headed back downstairs, made her way into the kitchen and from there she heard the muffled sounds of his breathing, strained and harsh. She heard metal clank as she opened the basement door. It was dim down there. Her feet were soundless on the carpeted steps as she descended.

Jaynie’s breath hitched a little as she stared at Brian. He was lying on the weight bench, his gaze on the ceiling, his features blank as he lifted the heavy bar up and slowly lowered it back down.

He didn’t make any of the annoying grunts and groans that Dean liked to make when he worked out. The only sounds she heard were his heavy breathing. He did ten reps as she watched.

She waited until he put the bar down and sat up before she moved. She didn’t make a sound, she knew she hadn’t, but his head turned and for a brief moment there was a fiery heat burning in the depths of his gaze. Then he blinked and when he looked at her, his expression was shuttered.

That blank look cracked as she lowered her hands to the robe’s belt. She didn’t say anything at first, just opened the robe and stood there as he looked at her. He stared at her breasts and she shuddered a little when he licked his lips. His big hands clenched into fists and under the thin cotton shorts, she could see the swelling of his cock. His gaze moved down her body. Jaynie had to fight not to jerk the robe closed when his gaze fastened on her sex. A muscle jerked in his jaw and Jaynie felt an answering throb deep inside.

He wanted her. The relief that flooded her was unreal. It didn’t matter that he was probably just reacting to the physical stimulus of a woman standing naked in front of him. It was a basic, honest human reaction—a man wanting a woman. That was all she needed, to know that she hadn’t totally failed and that she could react. Men could want her and she could feel heat—she hadn’t frozen up.

“I need you to touch me.”

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Coming soon…

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Deadline Hell and Writer Life

A few years ago, when I’d first gotten on twitter, I recall reading a tweet from a big name author.  We’ll just call her BNA.

She’d posted something along the lines of…

FINALLY! Finished my book.  Beat the deadline and now…I can take a fricking bath and relax…

I didn’t think much of it, although, admittedly, I kind of rolled my eyes.  I typically beat deadlines by several months (or at that point, I had) and I take a long hot soak whenever I want.  Ahhh…the arrogance of youth. (Or somebody who hadn’t quite gotten used to heavy deadlines…)

While I rolled my eyes at what I perceived was overly dramatic, some of her followers took some potshots. She had a lot–still does.  She got harassed like crazy for that simple tweet.  A bunch of people were like…

What…you don’t take baths when you’re working?

For some reason, that rubbed me wrong although I didn’t say anything about it.

But I get what she was saying now.

For the past few months, I’ve been working under deadlines that have all but obliterated my ‘relax’ time.  I force myself to squeeze it in and I still take time off on the weekends.  My family is more important than any book and I’m not going to work and never see them, but the health problems I’ve been having have just eaten away at my life, making me run late, ask for extra time, taking away time that I would usually put in on side projects or…yanno…read.  Take long baths. Relax.

Even when I try to relax, it doesn’t happen.

There’s this weird thing with being a writer–and I think it’s something that a lot of creatives deal with the same thing–but you don’t leave your job. Ever.  When I was in nursing, once I punched out, I was done.  I didn’t have to work again until I got back to work the next day. But when you’re a writer, you don’t get to ‘punch out’ of the story. It’s always there.  Your brain is constantly working at some angle or a character and it doesn’t ever shut down. There is always another story looking to be discovered or created, more characters waiting. The writing is always spinning something around around and your brain just doesn’t stop.

You’ve got a brain that’s constantly humming along at 70 mph, even when you sleep. It’s…interesting.

When you’re on deadline, it ramps up to 100mph, 120…140…200…O.O. And sometimes, you feel like this might actually happen if you have even one more thing to do…

Sitting in that bath tub sounds like a simple thing, but while we’re doing it, the story is already inside our head, eating us up and for all I know, if I sit down long enough to relax, some crucial piece will slip away.

Then my head might really explode. It’s easy to get tunnel vision when you’re stuck in deadline hell.  Most things outside the basic necessities fade away-everybody’s basic necessities differ.  Mine are family, food, church, sleep…and sleep honestly is low on the totem pole. So is food half the time.

But beyond those four? Eesh. I might forget to take a shower if I wasn’t afraid my husband might kick me out of the bed.

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