Shiloh Walker's Blog, page 61

The Innocent… Chapter One

Kindle

Just a note… I’ve notified the reviewers who were going to receive an ARC.

Due out March 11th

Jay Roberts never expected to fall in love with a man from Hell.

But she had.

And now he’d up and cut her off. Out of the blue.

She’d met Lincoln Dawson online and it hadn’t been at one of those hokey, online dating sites. She didn’t mess with those.

What was she supposed to put down?

Hello. I’m a security specialist who works for a think tank/security group/troubleshooter group known as the Oswald Group and I’m psychometric. It causes some issues with intimacy because when I touch people, I pick up on what they think and if you compare me to a former lover, I’m going to know. I’m five three, I hate walks in the rain, I kind of enjoy dirty movies, I love dirty books and I’m still a virgin. I’m kinky as hell and I’d love to find a way to get laid, but I don’t see that happening…

Yeah, it led to problems.

It had been pure accident that she met Linc.

She was online, incognito, naturally. Almost any time she went online, it was related to work. She had been investigating the disappearance of a teenager in Florida and he’d been smacking down somebody who had been preying on a couple of preteen girls.

Granted, the predator had acted like he was a girl.

She had seen through it, just as Lincoln had.

It was a long and convoluted path, but they’d been talking online for almost a year.

He’d asked more than once if they’d ever meet.

She wanted to tell him yes, so badly.

And she’d been really, really close.

Despite the fact that she’d been, well, misleading him from the beginning. Despite the fact that she had been hiding some huge secrets.

She needed to come clean with him because if she didn’t, they had no chance at all.

And she had been this close.

Planned her entire vacation around coming down here too.

But then, nearly three months ago, he’d stopped talking to her. Stopped answering emails, cut off contact completely.

Sadly, one of her jobs had come up that had pushed her off the grid for nearly three weeks. She’d reached out to him as soon as it was over and he’d finally called her back, only she’d been in a meeting.

I don’t have time for this, Jay. It’s not working out. Good-bye.

When her boss, Oz, offered her another short-term, off-the-grid job, she took it. It lasted five weeks and when it was done, when she could think past the all-consuming urgency of that job, she’d known, in her gut, something had been wrong. With the way Linc had cut her off, the way he’d pushed her away. Wrong with everything.

Lo and behold, she was right.

Now she was here.

In Hell. Literally, and maybe even in the biblical sense of the word.

Jay had done a double-take the first time she’d seen the name of the little town and she’d asked Linc twice if he was joking. But as she’d driven by the little bank and saw the digital display of the temperature—a balmy ninety-six in June—she had to admit, Hell was aptly named. She’d spent the past ten years living in Texas. She was intimately acquainted with hot.

This place, though, took the idea of hot and cooked it up and deep-fried it for good measure.

But before she hunted down her man and asked how they’d gone from dirty little sexts in the middle of the night to the cold shoulder and I don’t have time for this, she needed gas. She needed a cold drink and maybe five minutes in the bathroom.

The A/C on her car was questionable at best, and she’d been slowly baking for the past hour. It was coming up nine and still boiling hot outside. This place had to be pure torture come August.

The gas station looked like it hadn’t been updated any time this millennium. The gas pumps were slower than her great-grandmother had been on seniors’ day at Kroger back home in Louisville, and she was sweating by the time she finished. Pushing inside the store, she was greeted by a cool blast of air so welcome she wanted to cry.

She was damn glad she always traveled with some cash on hand because there was a sign taped to the door: Plastic is no good here. Cash only. Yeah, definitely stuck in the last century, because there was no ATM, either.

The guy behind the counter looked like he might be stuck in the nineties, maybe even the sixties, because he was staring at her like she was some alien life form. Jay was used to that. She actually kind of liked the odd attention she received over her pink- and blue-streaked hair and the little gold hoop that pierced her right eyebrow. The gloves tended to catch a lot of notice, but she’d give almost anything to not need them. Her physical appearance was weird enough that the gloves just went with everything else, but they were a necessity.

Everything else was just preference.

She’d go crazy without her gloves. She couldn’t function. Not for long, anyway. One touch against the wrong anything was enough to put her into a state of shock, something she knew from experience.

Those innocent little touches, the things people took for granted, were the very things that could drive her insane. A brush of a hand, even if she was shielded, could flood her with all a person’s fears, anxieties and secrets. If the person was having a bad day, it got even worse.

And if the person was in pain, physical or mental, the effects were so much worse.

Psychometry wasn’t picky when it decided to wreak havoc on her life. Her gift tied in to emotions and she didn’t have to take off the gloves to know the guy behind the counter was a mess.

His thoughts were…dark.

She approached him with more than a little bit of caution, wishing she’d thought to strap on her weapon, but it was a pain in the ass, even if she did have a concealed carry permit. Although, hey, she was kinda sorta involved with the sheriff.

Well, she thought she was.

Maybe.

It didn’t matter, though.

This kid was more involved in whatever was twisting up his mind than anything else.

She pulled her money out of her pocket and peeled off three twenties, putting them down on the counter.

The kid just stared, rocking back and forth on the stool, staring at nothing.

“Ah, hey. Can I get my change?”

His gaze skittered over to hers.

A chill raced up her back.

The lights aren’t exactly on. Nobody is home, she thought.

The door opened behind her and the kid went stiff, his gaze bouncing to the men behind her and she shifted, turning so that she had them in her line of sight and could still see the kid.

Sweat beaded along his lip and, abruptly, his body relaxed and a sigh shuddered out of him.

He blinked and looked at her. “Ma’am, that will be fifty-seven dollars.”

She gestured to the counter, focused on the men who moved to fill the empty space between the counter and the door.

Rednecks, she thought. And not the hardworking kind she’d come from. Her daddy had been a redneck and he’d busted his ass from dawn to dusk to make sure she never wanted for anything.

These guys, though, weren’t rednecks in the nice sense of the word. Already, the one in the middle was eyeing her in that way that made her feel dirty. Trouble, trouble, trouble.

Some people just gave off a certain vibe. Most women eventually learned to pick up on that vibe. It was that vibe that had them crossing the road when she saw a certain sort of guy, the one that made her realize she didn’t want to be anywhere alone with him, the guy that set off every internal alarm she had. He was the guy who stood too close, stared too long, and generally just creeped her out.

There were three of them standing in front of her now, and the one in the middle was the worst.

The biggest problem of them all was that he had a rough psychic skill.

In her line of work, she’d come to learn that psychic ability wasn’t as uncommon as some might think. It was estimated that one percent of the population had some sort of psychic ability—it sounded like a low number, but that added up to one in a hundred. With billions of people on the planet, that wasn’t as low as it seemed.

The abilities varied, though, and the typical “homegrown” psychic, like this guy, was weak. Most of them just had better than average instincts. Some were going to be sensitive to things—might feel really uncomfortable in a house where a lot of violence had happened, while another might be really good at guessing a winner at the Derby or occasionally picking four or five lottery numbers. The lucky sort of bastard.

He really had no idea what he was dealing with, either. Knowing her luck, he’d picked up something just odd enough about her to keep him intrigued, but he was too stupid to be scared.

She shifted her attention back to the boy and waited for her change, using the mirror mounted in the corner to watch the newcomers. If she was lucky, she could get out of here without messing with him.

When he whistled in her direction, Jay ignored it.

She was good at ignoring things.

All she had to do was get out of there and everything would be good.

She scooped up her change, careful not to make contact with the kid behind the counter, careful not to let him touch her, even with the gloves. Tucking her cash into her pocket, she turned to go and wasn’t surprised to see all three men blocking her way.

“Excuse me.”

“She looks like a piece of candy. Look at that pink hair.” It was the one with the mild psychic ability and the leer in his eyes made her skin crawl. His gaze raked over her from head to toe and then zoomed in on her chest. She wore a tank with a fishnet top stretched over it. It fit close. Most of her clothing did. Once upon a time she’d hid behind baggy clothing, cowered in her room, convinced she was going crazy. Her dad’s death, the emergence of her ability, it had all hit at once. Sanity had been a touch-and-go thing for a while.

She might be a little crazy but hiding hadn’t helped.

So she’d stopped hiding and she’d learned how to deal. With everything, just about. Including guys like this.

As he continued to stare at her tits, she said again, “Excuse me.”

A wide, unpleasant smile spread across his face.

She steadied herself and bolstered her shields. She could only keep everything locked out for short periods of time. More than ten or fifteen minutes and she felt like she was going through some sort of serious bout of sensory deprivation. That didn’t help her state of mind.

Touching thugs like this? That wasn’t going to help, either.

She’d have to touch one of them, probably several of them.

The ringleader stepped up and reached out.

She didn’t react as he trailed a finger down her cheek. “You lost there, sugar?” She felt nothing but the physical contact, his finger rough against her skin. She could almost imagine a slimy after-trail. Dirty—he was so dirty and he contaminated everything he touched.

“No.” She lied through her teeth and did it with a smile as she angled her head away, breaking contact. Keeping her shields up kept her from feeling too much, but she still caught enough—too much—lust and greed and a need to hurt. She wanted a shower. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go. I’m meeting somebody.”

“Why don’t you tell me where you’re heading? I can give you a hand.”

“I don’t need—”

The bell over the door rang.

She didn’t look away from the men in front of her.

“Lloyd. Why don’t you step away from the lady?”

A shiver raced down her spine. That voice. Familiar.

The man in front of her curled his lip, a slow, smirking sort of smile. It was the smile of a man she wouldn’t trust at her back. She didn’t even trust this man at her front. “Well, hey there, Sheriff… Oh, wait. You ain’t the sheriff no more. You know what? I think I’ll stay right here. I’m talking to this pretty little piece of candy here.”

Sheriff—

She tore her eyes away from him and stared at the man she’d come to find.

Sheriff Lincoln Dawson, the man she’d found herself falling head over heels in love with over the past year.

The man who, according to this thug, wasn’t the sheriff anymore.

Okay, that could wait.

“I think you’ll step away.” Lincoln’s voice came a little closer and she took a deep, steadying breath.

His eyes cut to hers.

She watched as his gaze passed over her and then immediately came right back.

Cocking her head, she said softly, “Hello, Lincoln.”

 

 

The very last person he’d expected to see in Hell was Jay Roberts.

As she turned around and gave him a slow smile, he was hard-pressed to do anything but stare for almost a minute. Her hair, a pale, almost white blonde, was colored in streaks of blue and pink here and there. It might have looked silly on some, but it suited her.

Half-way down her neck, he could see where her tattoos started and, just like the first time when he’d see her—only in a picture, of course—he wanted to peel her clothes away and learn each and every one of those tattoos, each and every curve. Killer curves, deadly attitude.

And the attitude he’d sensed in their online communication, and picked up on even more in their phone and Skype sessions, was every bit as sharp as he’d suspected.

A slow smile curved her lips and he wanted to cross the floor, grab her and cover her mouth with his. Taste her, like he’d wanted for almost a year.

He’d waited that long to finally meet her.

Now his life was in shambles and Lloyd Pritchard was threatening to put his hands on her.

Lloyd was an idiot.

But then again, he always had been.

He might be an idiot without arms or legs if he touched Jay.

His heart, so bitter and broken over the past few months, gave a slow, ragged beat in his chest. Part of him wanted to go to his knees in front of her and wrap his arms around her waist, press his face to her belly. She would listen. She would talk him through this and he wouldn’t hear any of the false sympathy, the false hopes—there was no hope. He was a cop. He knew what was going on.

The other part of him just wanted to tell her to get her ass in the car and go back to her nice, safe little job in Dallas.

He had no place for her in his world now.

Although he had to admit, she didn’t exactly fit into the safe little picture he’d had in mind. She’d sent him a few pictures and they’d Skyped, but she didn’t quite fit the images. The blonde hair was right, but it was done through with stripes of pink and blue. Her face was the same—heart-shaped with the most fuckable mouth ever—and he wanted to grab her up against him, lose himself in her.

The look in her eyes, somehow both wary and challenging, had him keeping his distance.

She was trouble in a pair of combat boots. He’d figured that out even as he’d caught his first glimpse of her through the plate glass window. He hadn’t recognized her from outside.

The soft, throaty voice—a little too rough, a little too raspy—stroked against his senses like a caress and he wanted to kick everybody out of the gas station and ask her why she was here.

Instead, he forced his mind away from the skin-skimming clothes and shifted his attention to Lloyd and his pack of ass-kissing hyenas.

She’d been about five seconds away from a whole world of trouble and he suspected she knew it. The new sheriff wouldn’t get off his ass to scratch it and city police force consisted of exactly two full-time cops and one part-time. None of them were worth the price of two postage stamps.

The best thing Linc could do was get her out of here. It seemed like the rest of the world had forsaken this town. Maybe God had too. He’d had a hard time during his tenure as sheriff, dealing not just with the assaults, but also with the disappearance of several local girls, a handful of unusual suicides but he hadn’t let that deter him.  He’d had a job to do and he’d see it through.

Over the past two months, ever since his daughter’s disappearance, an even darker pall had settled itself over the place.  Since the last night he’d seen DeeDee, a local hunter had gone missing, as well as a pretty high school junior and a kid from the basketball team.

He no longer cared.  All he cared about was finding justice for his daughter.

The oppressive weight was just getting worse. This town was plagued by a dark curse.

This wasn’t any place he wanted Jay to be.

He didn’t want anybody here. If he could build a wall to keep everybody out, he’d do it.

That wasn’t an option, but one thing he could do…beat the shit out of Lloyd if he so much as touched Jay.

Lloyd eased closer to her and Jay watched him impassively, her hands hanging at her sides, loose and ready.

Linc shot out a hand and grabbed the back of Lloyd’s thick neck. “You don’t want to go messing with her, son,” he said levelly.

Lloyd jerked away and swiveled, driving a fist into Linc’s gut. Or, that was the intention. Linc was already spinning away. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jay, and what he saw was such a distraction that Lloyd managed to sucker punch him. He didn’t get another hit in, though.

A wet, cracking sound filled the air and Lloyd screamed, going down after Linc took his leg out.

Linc turned just in time to see Jay balance her weight on the edge of the counter and drive her booted feet solidly into the skinny chest of one Johnny Hutchins.

Willy Lee was the last one standing and as he wheeled around, Linc smashed his fist into the bastard’s thick neck, watched as he went red. Gasping for air, he stumbled into a stand of chips and jerky and then crashed to the floor.

Jay looked back at him and the vivid, intense green of her eyes laid him low.

“Jay.”

She cocked her head at him. “Hello, Linc.”

He would have said something else, anything else, but Bryce Atkins came barreling around the counter, his face pale and strained, eyes wide. “I called the cops.”

Jay shifted her attention to him, her eyes a wide and vivid shade of green, focused on him.

Arching a brow, Linc said levelly, “I’m sure the lady appreciates it.”

Bryce blinked. “I called because of you. You broke his leg.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“He was hassling her.”

“She shouldn’t be dressed like that,” Bryce said, jerking his chin up.

Linc ran his tongue along his teeth and then closed the distance between them, eyeing him narrowly. “You might want to watch it, kid.”

Bryce’s eyes widened and then he jerked his gaze away, staring at the men on the floor. “Ya’ll tore up the store. The manager is going to kick my ass. You know how Dave is.”

“I do.” He shrugged and turned away. “You can tell Dave that these guys were harassing a woman in here.” My woman.

His…

He sighed and dragged a hand down his face, then turned to look Jay. Yeah, she still felt like his. Never mind that he had never actually laid eyes on her, in person, before today.

She felt like his and if she’d come to him any time other than now…

Abruptly, anger surged inside him and he shoved past her, storming outside the doors.

Why now?

Why couldn’t she have come to him back when he still had any sort of life left inside him?

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Damon’s Valentine

Kindle

Word of warning… technically, this piece is out of time.  If I followed the story’s timeline, we’d be roughly in April.  But, well, just work with it.  I wanted him to give her a Valentine.  It sounded fun.

Also, this is just for fun–I wrote it in about fifteen minutes and read it through, but I didn’t send it to beta readers or anything so there probably are typos.  That’s fine. Pretty please, don’t feel the need to point them out.  Again, this was just for fun.

~*~

Damon’s Valentine- Damon POV

“What are these?”

I looked at the flowers, feeling more than a little stupid as Kit stared at them.  Her pretty green eyes were confused.  Scowling, I shoved them into her hands.  “They’re called flowers.”

“I know that.”  She stroked a finger down the petal of one, her frown fading away.  But she didn’t smile.

I’d wanted to see her smile.

She didn’t do it enough.  Not anymore.  Not since—

Rage was a living, breathing thing in me and I had to wrap a stranglehold around it, shove into a box and smash it down.  Don’t.  If you go there, she’s gonna see.  Calm the fuck down.  “I had to go into Orlando.  There were all these cards and shit.  It’s Valentine’s Day.  I just thought…”

Now she looked up, her gaze meeting mine.

“Valentine’s Day.”  Now she smiled, but it was a weird one.  She took a step toward me.  My heart started to beat faster.  My dick twitched—it’s like a reflex.  Sometimes she just looks at me and it happens.  “You ever hear any of the real history behind it?”

“No.”  I didn’t care.  She’d smiled.  Even if it was over something weird, she’d smiled.  Lifting my hand, I rested it on the curve of her neck.  I felt the ridges hidden under the ink—poisoned flowers, a broken blade.  Stroking my thumb along the hollow of her throat, I waited.  Her faint smile widened into a dark, slightly twisted grin and I wanted to cover that wide, wicked mouth.  Taste her. Strip her.

“Valentine was some kind of priest.”

That had the fantasy I’d been spinning stalling—it didn’t fade.  It just slowed down.  “Valentine—he was a real guy?”

“Yeah.  It’s human stuff so I don’t know much about him, but they threw him in jail.  He was performing marriages or something, if I remember right.  Then they killed him.”  She lowered her head, studied the flowers.  “Trust humans to make up some sort weird holiday over a guy being jailed, then killed.”

She’d gone still, in that way she did when she started to remember.  Fuck.  I’d gone and reminded her.  Not that she needed a reminder.  She lived it.  Bore the scars.  Slowly, I reached down and took the roses.  “Maybe it’s not over him being jailed…but why.  It was for love.  He believed in it, right?”

As I put the flowers down, she looked up at me.  “Wow, Damon.  That’s almost…romantic.  Here you are, giving me flowers, spouting romantic thoughts.”

I tugged her against me.  The feel of her did bad, bad things.  Thought wanted to stop.  I wanted her naked.  Wanted bare skin under my hands.  Wanted her wet and hot as I fucked her.

I cupped her face.  “Maybe I just want you in a good mood.”  I pressed my mouth to hers.  “I probably want something.”

“What?” she asked, her voice wry, although it was going husky. “Let me guess…it involves me naked.”

“I pretty much always want you naked, baby girl.”  I brushed my mouth over hers, felt a growl building in me as she shuddered.

“Maybe we can arrange that.”  She slid her hands down my chest.  My cock jerked like she’d reached inside my pants instead.  She tipped her head, smiling at me once more. “I feel bad.  You bought me a present. I don’t have anything for you.”

“Get naked. That will work.”  I wasn’t about to tell her that all I needed was to see her smile.  Especially not when she was already reaching for the hem of her shirt.   Yeah, I wanted to see her smile…but smiling and naked was even better.

 

Reviewers… wanna review? THE INNOCENT

Kindle

Apparently when I do virgins, I make them ornery and mouthy.  Anyway…Jay has a reason for ‘no touching’ policy.

Sex is kinda difficult, when you’re a psychic who has bad feedback from the simplest touch, right?

 

For a woman he can’t touch, he’ll turn Hell inside out.

An FBI Psychics Novella

There’s only one reason Jay Roberts would set foot in a middle-of-nowhere town like Hell, Georgia. She’s got a bone to pick with her sort-of boyfriend. They only met online, but things got hot and heavy before their cyber link went silent.

She’s here to get in his face for an explanation. But no touching. Her psychic abilities make physical contact…complicated. Yet something about this relationship made her think things would be different. She’s not in Hell twenty minutes before bad vibes have her skin crawling.

Corruption has stained the very fabric of Linc Dawson’s town, and now it’s stolen something very dear to him. The last thing he has time for is nursing Jay’s broken heart.

But Jay isn’t going anywhere. Not only because she’s not giving up on him, because she’s got access to the kind of backup nobody wants on their bad side. And Linc discovers the woman who’s afraid to touch him could actually be his best chance. At salvation, at hope, at life. Maybe even love…

Warning: This book contains a not-so-naive virgin, a pissed-off former cop, lots of frustration, if you know what I mean, and more trouble than either of them know what to do with.

 

 

Excerpt

 

“You shouldn’t have come down here.”

Linc’s voice, pitched low, was barely loud enough for her to hear it. Turning her head, she studied him the dim light. Skyping with him, the pictures, none of it had done him justice.

His skin was a deep, warm gold, the sort of tan that came from many, many hours spent under the sun, and his eyes were a rather amazing shade of blue. They practically glowed against his skin and when he looked at her, her heart all but stopped.

She’d known he was bald, but the word bald brought to mind something a little less appealing that what he was. His naked scalp had her wanting to press her lips to his skin, skim her hands along the lines of his finely molded skull and learn him by touch.

A neatly cropped goatee and mustache set off a mouth that just begged for kisses.

Well, she’d be happy to give him those kisses, except for her little problem with physical contact.

Right now, she really, really hated that problem.

He was massive. Jay hadn’t ever really liked big men, but she definitely liked him. He stood six five, something she’d known beforehand, because he’d told her, but seeing in him person told her just how big he was. He wasn’t just tall, either. His chest was a solid wall, one she’d like to lean against just then. Lean against, while he wrapped his arms around her and she listened to the cadence of his heart.

That was something she longed for. Simple contact. She craved it. And now, with him this close, she craved it that much more.

Maybe…

As though he sensed what she was feeling, he pushed off the wall and came to her, sinking down and sliding his hand through the bars. The jail was old, the cells looking like they’d been done sometime back in the 1800s, complete with iron bars. They might be that old, although they’d updated at some point.

She stared at his hand, longing pulsing through her.

They’d made her take her gloves off. No reason to, other than to be assholes, but they’d made her remove her gloves and that skin-to-skin contact…

Slowly, she reached out, touched her fingers lightly to his. She could do light contact for short periods of time as long as her shields were up. There would be a press against her shields, though. But it shouldn’t be too taxing. She’d learned to handle light touches a long time ago and she could handle this, surely.

Bracing herself, she tucked her hand inside his—

______________________________________

 

This is part of a series, but I write these books to stand alone.  The connecting theme is that one or both characters are psychics.  They are romantic suspense, and they do get kinda dark.  Just an FYI.

If you’re a reviewer interested in reviewing the book, leave your name below and let me know where you plan to post the reviews- your blog, Amazon, BN or GR (or a combination of) on or near the release date in March.

I’ll determine how many ARCs I send out once I see how much interest there is.

Please note, this isn’t a contest.  Review copies are being offered in exchange for an honest review-good or bad, just looking for honest reviews.  I’ll do a contest for the book closer to release date if I remember.

Thank you!

Coastal Magic…and this thing that happened.

Kindle

First… Coastal Magic rocked.

If you can get to Florida to attend this next year, I recommend. The panels are fun, readers, as always, are amazing, it’s really affordable and I met some awesome authors.

I finally got to meet Molly Harper, Ashlyn Chase, Jess Haines, Carrie Ann Ryan and James Tuck (and I know there were others, but I’m a ditz and THE THING THAT HAPPENED has killed my brain). I’ve known these authors a while, but never got to meet them.

Also got to talk with Kristen Painter and Angie Fox again. I’ve had one of Kristen’s books forever and I must read it. Also, I have to figure out how to see these biker guys that Angie knows.

And I have some new authors I’ll be checking out… Selena Blake, I’m sorry I scarred your brain, but hey, it was fun, right? I’m checking out Amber Belldene’s books because she was way, way cool to listen to.

Now.

I have to tell you this story. It started with this.

This was on the display table … Aunt Matilda’s Jewelry Box… the vendor was selling jewelry at Coastal Magic.  This book.  That book?  It has Kit’s necklace.  My brain went into meltdown.  Why?  Because not that long ago?  Lynn was at a steampunk show, handing out books.  My brain imploded.  This woman had met Lynn Viehl.  I just knew it.  I looked at her… ”You met her, didn’t you?”

She smiles at me.  ”Yes, I did.”

“I hate you.”  I couldn’t help it.  It popped out of my mouth.  I looked at the book.  At her.  Then I said it again.  ”She’s one of my two favorite authors.  And I’ll never get to meet her.  I hate you.”

She kinda laughed.  ”It’s a book convention. Who knows, she could show up.”

I snorted.  Then I took a picture of the book, fully intending to email it to Lynn and tell her, “I hate you.”

This is clearly my theme.

Fast forward it to the booksigning.  I’m wandering around, killing time, not setting up my table, because I’m lazy and spastic and if I sit, I’ll spazz more.  But it’s almost time so I go to my table and Jenn, our lovely convention lady, is there.

So is somebody else.  I figured it was a reader, although readers weren’t in yet.

I go behind the table and the woman plunks down a bag.  ”Here’s your damn bag.”

I blinked. Then I looked at the bag.  ”You made this?”  It was a gorgeous bag. (FYI, I’m not ready yet. My table is a mess, I’m not ON yet…but here’s a lady with a bag).

She’s looking at me.  Jenn is looking at me.  Then she looks at Jenn.  ”Let’s see if she figures out who I am.”

I look back at her.  She looks familiar.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked me and she seems to think I should know.

Again, yes, she looks familiar…sorta.  But I’m a ditz. And they keep staring at me.  And my belly is kinda twitching.  Because they are staring at me.  And she does look familiar.

That’s when it started to hit.

“Oh, no.”

She starts to grin.

“No way.”

That grin got wider.

“No. No. NO WAY.”

She started to laugh.

“You can’t be.”

She was laughing and then asked if I wanted to see her driver’s license.

She showed me her driver’s license, because I didn’t believe her.

Lynn fricking Viehl showed up at Coastal Magic.

I grabbed her and I hugged her and I screamed and I am unashamed.

She brought me my damn bag (I emailed her a while back and told her I’m never gonna win a damn bag from you).

She sat with me the whole signing and we went out to dinner.

Guys.  I met Lynn Viehl.

Year. Made.

My damn bag, filled with snacks,
magazines, assorted goodies and a book.

So… Bladed Magic… a Kit Colbana short story

Kindle

This will be out sometime soonish.

It’s a short story, only a short story, only ever intended to be a short story (emphasizing the short bit because I often get comments about… it should be longer) …all about how Kit met Justin.  It’s 65-ish pages, planning on pricing it at .99.

 

The blurb…

 

A Colbana Files Prequel

The events of this short story take place between A STROKE OF DUMB LUCK and BLADE SONG.  It can be read as a stand-alone.

For the first time in her life, Kit Colbana’s life was going just fine.  She had a nice, easy job.  She’d managed to escape the not-so-loving attentions of a family who’d rather see her dead than look at her.  She had a roof over her head and she didn’t have to fight for every little thing she had.

Then she finds herself tangled up with a green-eyed witch by the name of Justin.  He’s looking for somebody and for some bizarre reason, he seems to think she can help.  All she has to do is say no, and she can go back to her safe little existence.  That’s exactly what she needs to do and she knows it.

Too bad she’s not very good at following her own advice.

Snippet… Burn for Me…

Kindle

Due out in April…not much longer

the first book in my Secrets & Shadows series…

Then, because part of him hoped she’d turn her head and look at him, he let his gaze shift back to Ali.

She didn’t look at him and that hollow ache in his chest spread.  If he was smart, he’d walk away.

He didn’t have the strength yet.

Maybe in a few more months.

He’d said that a year ago.

 

Read more

Signing this weekend

KindleHilton Daytona Beach Oceanfront Resort

100 North Atlantic Avenue

Daytona Beach, FL 32118
Ph: 386-254-8200
Fri-Sun

From Coastal Magic’s site…

Saturday, Feb 8th

5pm – 7pm

Our 2014 Charity Author Signing will be benefitting Habitat for Humanity. The participating authors are listed below, they include all Featured Authors, and a few authors who will only be at the signing.

You can let us know you’re coming, and share the information with your friends, by checking out the signing’s FB event page!

The signing is a FREE activity, and is open to the public. Even if you’re unable to attend the weekend long convention, we welcome you to come meet the participating authors. Books will be available to purchase at the signing, and a portion of the proceeds will go to our charity partner. Please limit books brought from home to be signed to 3 total. Thank you.

Heartbreakingly sad

Kindle

This should be a cautionary tale to anybody seeking unnecessary cosmetic procedures…this is far from the first botched cosmetic procedure, but this is one of the most tragic I’ve seen.

She went in for breast surgery and something went wrong, she went into a coma and suffers from brain damage.  She can’t talk to her own son, can’t walk, can’t talk, according to the information online.

From the article I read…

When 18-year-old Linda Perez went in for breast augmentation surgery in Miami, Fla., last August, she was a fun-loving, spirited mother to a little boy.

Today, roughly three months after she woke from a coma, you would hardly recognize her.

“She goes into depression and crying,” her mother, Mariela Diaz, told the Miami Herald of her daughter, who has been left brain damaged, barely able to speak and requiring 24-hour nursing care.

“She sees that she cannot walk, and when she realizes what happened to her she cries,” said added.

Read more via New York Daily News

 

If you know of anybody (of if you have ever contemplated it), please make sure you/they research all parties involved and go to a VERY reputable clinic.  Personally, I have to question whether it’s worth it.  But if it is done, it should be done right, with all parties aware of the risks, and possible outcomes.  And please…don’t use go the ‘discount’ route.  This place offered a ‘discount’ sort of thing.

Discounts are fine on my tires, my pizza, my gym membership, but some things?  You don’t want a cutrate sort of procedure with something that involves people cutting into your body, pumping anesthesia into your body, altering your physical appearance.

The young woman was honestly so physically stunning, I wonder why she felt she needed to change anything.

Any kind of surgery comes with risk and the risk of plastic surgery are many.  This isn’t medical advice-I’m not a doctor, can’t give it, but just think about it. Think about some of the stuff you read online.

It can make your physical appearance worse…

Vicotoria’s Secret Alessandra Ambrosio model required multiple surgeries to fix botched ‘ear pinning’
Tara Reid required plastic surgery to fix a bad plastic surgery

It can endanger your health, as evidenced by what happened to this young woman, Linda Perez.

It can endanger your life.

Former Miss Argentina dies after cosmetic buttock procedure
Unidentified woman dies after cosmetic procedure
Miami woman died ten hours after receiving buttock injection
Woman dies 17 days after procedure
39 year old woman dies after cosmetic procedure

Edged Blade

Kindle

 

It might change a tiny bit.  A quote or something in the corner or a tagline. But that’s pretty much it.  We’re still looking at a January release.  I’ve got other Kit news that I might post later this week.

 

Winners…

Kindle

 

 

Two winners!

 

 

First up…

MK

Ek******@g….

 

Second….

trishalistic

trish.********@g…

 

If you can email me at shilohwalker2011 at gmail.com with Lynn Viehl contest in the subject line, I’d appreciate it.   Let me know what format you prefer, print or e.  If you prefer e, include if you want BN or Amazon.  FYI, if you’re outside the US, you’ll have to take print unless the book is available on Amazon in your country of residence.

If you want print, make sure you send your addy!