Speculative Romance Author Regina Paul

Why I write

2013-01-26T07:00:00.000-08:00

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I often get the question about why I write. Honestly? I write because I have to. It almost sounds like I'm doing something I don't like when I put it that way, doesn't it? But that's not the case at all. The fact is I have always written in one form or another. Granted before age five I couldn't really write but even then I told stories, or drew pictures that told stories. Just because I didn't know how to write words didn't mean I didn't write. I've always written. Words are compelling for me.

Another reason I write is because I have a very vivid imagination. I have always had a movie running in my head. I can easily see scenes from my books and even feel what my characters are feeling. Being able to write down the movie in my head makes it possible for me to share my vivid imagination with others.

I love to tell stories. There is just something so rewarding about telling a story and keeping people on the edge of their seat to find out what is going to happen next that is quite simply addicting. One of my favorite things about writing is figuring out how myself and my characters are going to both fool and engage the reader. I say fool because when you're writing fiction you can't make it too easy. Personally I am not a fan of books where I can figure out who the bad guy is or who the heroine is going to marry or whatever the case may be in the first couple of chapters. I've been known to put those books down and never pick them up again, so I work hard to make sure there are enough surprises to keep my readers interested.

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And I write to educate. As someone of Native American heritage, there is so much information out there about Native Americans that is incorrect that I use my fiction to educate, as well as, to entertain. Stereotypes abound when it comes to Native Americans, all you have to do is watch a movie from the 1950's with Indians in it and you'll see what I mean. The whole idea of Indians being savage, or stoic, or wearing full feather head dresses (not all tribes had these, this is mainly the plains tribes only) and it's not hard to see how easy it is to be misinformed. So, several of my stories have Native Americans and other Indigenous Peoples as main characters, and rather than using stereotypes to explain their actions and their lives, I use my own knowledge of my people to tell their stories. What I don't know I carefully research and whenever possible talk to members of the tribe that my characters come from so I am certain that what I write is accurate.

And finally it's fun! Writing stories and even non-fiction like this article for example is fun for me and relaxing. Weird I suppose for those non-writers out there, but ultimately writing for me is the same as say someone who enjoys skiing wanting to hit the slopes every weekend during the winter.

How to Get More Readers to Your Author's Blog

2013-01-24T07:00:00.000-08:00

As an author this is something I think about pretty often. How do I get readers both new and old to read my author's blog. I've tried a number of different things over the years, and like most authors I've had a lull from time to time with my blog, but I love to write and sooner or later I find myself coming back and writing again. Of course I also write for my own entertainment as crazy as that might sound, there's just something about writing that makes me keep typing words onto the page. So, how do you get more readers to your blog? Here are the things I've found that work best for me.

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1. Schedule Guest Bloggers. That's right, offer your blog up to other authors to guest blog on. But it doesn't just have to be guest bloggers, it can also be other people in the publishing industry such as editors, owners of promotions companies, cover artists, and video book trailer makers. The more fun and interesting posts you have on your blog, the more this will help drive traffic to your blog and get new readers and new fans to both your blog and your books. Because let's face it, the more you blog, the more people are going to come and the more someone is going to be curious about just what it is you write, besides your blog that is! LOL

2. Engage your readers. Ask questions, invite readers to comment, make it worth your reader's while to comment by responding in a timely fashion when they do.

3. Comment on other author and publishing industry blogs. Don't just comment to get traffic, and don't just type some inane comment like "Nice post." and then put your blog address after it. That's too much like spamming to be taken seriously by anyone that is reading the comments including the blog owner. It blatantly screams, "I'm trying to get traffic to my blog, I don't really care about your blog." You don't want that. If you can't type a thoughtful and honest comment then find another blog that you can post an honest and thought comment on.

4. Have regular contests. I love to hold contests! Contests are a great way to bring readers to your blog, plus when you give away something useful and or fun, readers are more likely to remember you and come back for more. Plus once you get them to your blog and they see how entertaining and fun your posts are, they will come back not just for the contests (although those are fun too!) but because they enjoy reading what you and your guest bloggers have written.

5. Post sneak peaks of currently published books and works in progress. One of the things I love most about visiting author's blogs is reading sneak peaks, or excerpts as some call them. If a sneak peak is good enough I'll even buy the book!

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6. Let the world know when you've written a post or when one of your guest bloggers has posted. It always amazes me when authors add a post to their blog and then don't tell anyone. With the number of social media available to authors these days, there are all sorts of ways to get the word out. With a few clicks you can add a link to Twitter, Google+, and Facebook. And if you Tweetdeck you can actually post to both Facebook and Twitter at the same time!

Do you have a tip to help authors get more readers to their author blog? (Hint: You don't have to be an author to post a comment, maybe as a reader you know something to help too!) Post it in the comments and get a chance to win something cool! The best tip wins a $10.00 gift certificate to the Coffee Time Romance E-bookstore! Contest ends on February 14, 2013.

Writing the Virtus

2013-01-07T07:00:00.000-08:00

Writing the Virtus Saga is a real challenge, particularly since I’m still not sure on how to go about creating a series. Mine, believe it or not, built and developed on its own starting from a concept and a recurring image. Simply worded, the concept is:

As part of a vast social experiment, the planet Sendar is controlled by a technologically advanced mechanical device that channels people's aggression into sex, which guarantees their feudal society knows no violence.

As for the recurring image, it was of a lone rider, lost in a place he should have known like the back of his hand, who finds shelter from a coming thunderstorm in a beautiful woman’s run-down shack. Too familiar to be a stranger, she feels like she belongs to him, yet he has no memory of ever having seen her or of knowing her name. And why does she look like his twin, even if he’s sure there’s no blood relation between them?

Makes no sense, right? Well, it didn’t to me either, but I kept writing, hoping things would clear up eventually, and oddly they did. As the plot thickened, details added up, fitting inside a structure I had not thought out beforehand. As incredible as it sounds, it felt like I was reading it, rather than creating it. Yes, like any other reader starting from Book 1, The Sex, I had no idea where I was going or why characters behaved the way they did. Thus came Book 2 The Game, then Book 3 The Festival, Book 4 The Leader, Book 5 The Pledge and Book 6 The Heat, all currently released by eXtasy Books and available at major bookstores including Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Kobo.

Still, Virtus is far from over. All those who read it know The Heat ends with yet another cliff hanger, which requires a Book 7, The Princess, and also a Book 8, The Demon, the final chapter on Prince Duncan Caldwell, his lover Lord Christopher Templeton, and their woman, Lady Ylianor Templeton.

Of course, by now I do have a sharper idea on where my characters are headed, but until I’ve written the words The End, I’m not betting on it LOL. Safe to say, my husband, who has read the entire saga so far, has a greater grasp on my characters, knows them far better than I do, and is also pointing to the ending that is most logical with the premises. When he told me about it, I couldn’t believe it!!! All I had was a concept and an image, while he had the whole story down pat. Go figure!

In a way, though, he’s right. It was the characters themselves who guided each and every twist and turn, so it shouldn’t have surprised me they would point to their own ending. After the first image, they continued to play inside my head until the lone rider turned out to be a handsome, dark-haired prince, his long raven black hair flying wild as he dares nature’s hostile elements on his black horse, until a trembling candlelight draws him to the woman he’s destined to meet again, Ylianor Meyer. And she’s not a sibling, not a twin, not a blood relation at all no matter how similar she looks to him. Still, she is someone he’s grown up with, so why can’t he remember her at all, as though his memory had been wiped clean of her?

Like any other reader, I found the answer to this riddle, as well as to the similarity without blood relation, in Book 4 The Leader and Book 5 The Pledge, which proves how little the characters shared while I was writing, telling me only what they wanted me to know when they wanted me to know it, no earlier. From the first line to the last, I just received pieces of a puzzle that eventually made up a great story that still amazes me for its complexity.

Christopher Templeton is the key to the whole design, although he came to me after Duncan falls for Ylianor. With his blond good looks, erotic elegance and cat-like sensuality, he quickly overshadowed every other character. Being the egotistical narcissist he is, he would have done anything to have the most eligible, powerful and handsome man around—Prince Duncan Caldwell, Leader of the High Council—and kept everyone else, women in particular, away from his beloved prince’s heart. Yes, he’s a tad jealous and has been since the phase, but then his love for the dark-haired heir of the Caldwells is so strong and deep, it overpowers any other feeling, especially since it’s combined with one of the strongest powers or Virts on the planet Sendar.

In time, I’ve come to love how Chris defends his territory, fiercely eliminating competition, doing his dammed best to make sure things stay the way they are. Yet, he’s also the first to anticipate the changes he can’t stop, adapting to them even if they mean having to share the person who is the very reason of life itself with a woman. It’s what makes Lord Templeton so intriguing and attractive in his own demon-like style—unpredictably evil at times, terribly open-hearted at others, capable of a love so all encompassing he’d be willing to sacrifice everything to it, his life included. Such depth of feelings turns the story around, and only after I was writing it for a while, did I understand what the Virtus Saga was really all about.

If you strip off the sex, the fantasy trappings, the Virts and the power, what’s left is the slow, painful and very real making of a trio. Building a successful ménage is no easy task. The three have to overcome their separate resistances. They have to smooth out their rough edges. They have to compromise and silence their egotistical drives. And they have to share in the love and understanding. So their goal is to be one whilst being three, keeping their individual identities while at the same time blending into a single being greater than its parts, not because they have to save the world or any such catastrophic event, rather because they want to become better persons. And that’s a goal we could all have in our ordinary, day-to-day lives here on planet Earth.

Please Welcome Tara Fox Hall!

2012-11-06T07:00:00.000-08:00

A huge thank you to Regina Paul for having me here today as part of my Broken Promise Blog Tour! I’m here today to promote Broken Promise, the second book in the Promise Me series. Most readers of romance—unless you’ve been locked in a crypt for the last few decades—are well aware that there are many vampire romance series with a dashing yet brooding heroic vampire and a strong female lead. Here are my reasons why my Promise Me Series is not just one more.

I spent my youth reading about vampires, being in love with the idea of living forever and staying young, partying all night, every night, and having a strong protector that was not only invincible to attack but would love me with a love that would be just as undying as he was.

When I look back at the novels of my youth, all I can say is “Reality check, please.”

Now let me hurry to put in a disclaimer, lest I be staked by tons of rabid vampire fans; I am not against fantasy worlds, all and any definitions of vampire, or star-crossed lovers with hundreds of years in age difference. Love is not always logical; hell, most times it isn’t! I’m just asking for an authenticity to the world, characters and plot that the writer is offering me. I go into a new book looking for a reason to believe in it, hoping to lose myself in its pages until something in real life forces me grumpily to set the book aside. I want to be captured, nay, enslaved, so that that story becomes as real to me as my own life, an alternate realm that I treasure as much as my own reality, with characters that are so real they feel like old friends. There are some vampire novels out there that accomplish this with aplomb. Yet there are far more that don’t.

Be brutally honest with yourself. If you were a vampire who had lived for centuries and experienced tremendous persecution and suffering, would you really go back to high school, so you could get a little more added on? Would you really be haunting nightclubs for eternity, having rampant sex with people for their blood night in and night out? Would you be calling attention to yourself by brutally killing victims in alleys, or sitting on a throne each night for people to stare at and admire? These suppositions all have two things in common; they have been used over and over again for vampire plots and— for anyone who was actually living them for eternity—they would likely be incredibly tiresome, if not mind-numbingly boring.

So why do we vampirephiles like these unrealistic scenarios? Because we remember being in high school, and the dream that the new pale exchange student really was not only “into” us, but also capable of sweeping us away from the rigors of trigonometry and chemistry lab. We hope down deep every time we enter a nightclub that there will be some creature of the night waiting for us at the bar, baring a hint of fang in a sidelong glance of licentious interest. We want the feeling that our normal, everyday lives—no matter how happy we are—could be swept away into a tumult of passion, romance, and danger, of life and death decisions, and love that lasts forever. We want the fantasy so we can drink down every red, sweet drop with insatiable hunger. In our passion to be lose ourselves, we forget about the feelings of the creature we are lusting for: his hopes, dreams, and passions. As such, the vampire in romance is often cookie cutter in the extreme and full of logical contradictions, doomed to spend his eternity suffering in loneliness, waiting for that special someone to turn his immortal existence on his ear.

I want more than that for my fantasy…I want a vampire that breathes.

So what would a real vampire be like? To go on for centuries would take determination beyond love, greed, lust, or even duty. It would take a sheer act of indomitable will to face wars, rises and falls of culture, shifts in world view, the death of your loved ones from your mortal life, and the constant struggle to support yourself along with the need for sustenance, that no matter how the world changed would never accept a vampire’s nature. Having bitter enemies would be a given with immortal life, but good friends would be likely, also. Having a system of blood donation would be essential, as would security. That the vampire would have loved and lost goes without saying. Personality traits expected would be cynical, opportunistic, and calculating, as well as driven and interested in the world around him. But most crucial to a vampire would be having a purpose, a reason to wake up each night and go out into the darkness.

Enter Danial Racklan, my 400-year-old vampire and male lead from the Promise Me Series. A suave businessman who owns the corporate detective business Solutions, Inc., with his werecougar partner, Theo, Danial is no novice at surviving. Ensconced in his private fortress with a network of personal security and blood donors that make house calls, he is secure from his enemies by day. By night, he commits his life to solving mysteries and murders…and sometimes committing the latter in service to organized crime. It’s been so long since he loved anyone that he doesn’t miss it, choosing to bury his passions in work, a course sure to guarantee his heart won’t be broken again.

When Danial goes out to commit a murder on an overcast fall night, he’s sure nothing will go wrong. Caught unawares by a killer he could not have anticipated, Danial is wounded badly, but escapes. Fighting poison, he collapses at the end of an unknown road. And there he would have perished…but for a royally pissed off country woman named Sar who goes to investigate what she is sure are partyers in her neighbor’s rock quarry. Finding Danial unconscious, Sar hauls Danial back to her house—yes, literally, in a front-end loader—and in the process, discovers he is a vampire. Being a vampirephile herself, Sar gives him her blood. While the experience is not what she bargained for, it has the intended result: Danial wakes up…and Sar’s old life is swept away into a tumult of passion, romance, and danger, of life and death decisions, and love that lasts forever.

What can I say? I want a realistic base…but I want the fantasy, too!

Blurb from Broken Promise:

Shocked at Danial’s betrayal, Sarelle returns to her old home to consider her options. Yet even as Sar plans a reconciliation with Danial, Terian arrives, confessing his desire. When Theo witnesses Terian and Sar kiss, he angrily confronts Sar, leading to startling consequences. Will Sar’s heart choose Danial, Terian,…or Theo?

Excerpt from Broken Promise:

Danial followed me. “Sar,” he said hesitantly.

I turned reluctantly to face him. “Danial, say whatever you have to say and get out,” I said wearily. “I’m exhausted.”

“I love you,” he said, his eyes tearing.

“I know you do,” I said evenly, meeting his gaze with my own, before turning from him to start washing the dishes.

I felt him behind me in an instant, and put down the dish I’d been holding before I dropped it. His hands rested on my shoulders, and then slid down my arms, enfolding me as he pulled me close. His hands were cool, as they had been the first time we embraced.

How many nights had I longed to be back in his arms? How many nights had I wished he would come to me like this, and tell me he loved me? Almost every night since we parted. But it didn’t change anything between us.

“I was wrong, Sar. I was wrong to do what I did.” He leaned his head on my shoulder, holding me. “I want you to know, I didn’t have sex with her. I left her, after talking to you. Please forgive me, for the things I said to you that night,” he whispered into my ear. “Please forgive me, my Oathed One.”

Buy Link: http://www.amazon.com/Broken-Promise-Me-ebook/dp/B009JQRJYQ

Happy Halloween World! By Ciara Lake

2012-10-31T16:00:00.000-07:00

Don’t you love to dress up and pretend? I do. I like to decorate too. I recently attended a costume party at my friend’s house. The theme was “not so nice” Disney characters. My friend’s house was amazingly decorated and the guests dressed up in great outfits. It was so much fun. It was an opportunity for adults to be like children and sometimes we grownups need to regress. I dressed up as Snow White’s evil queen. Pretending to be a naughty character is lots of fun. I practiced my wicked laugh and got pretty good at the cackle. Halloween is a time to allow your imagination to go wild and free. It is a wonderful time to dream up new ideas. Tonight little monsters are coming to my door for goodies. It’s rainy and chilly in Ohio this year but has not seemed to stop the little creatures from begging for candy.

In Angel for Avery, which is coming out in February there is treat or trick scene with a bad monster at their door. But my heroine is protected by her guardian angel. Ah, just got an idea… to have a book start with a modern day masquerade party. Yep, that’s on my list now.

Halloween is the beginning of the fun holidays, at least to me. Soon we will be decorating for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I love the lights and the atmosphere they create. I put lights up for Halloween too. I write a lot over the holiday times. I have time off work and spend days and nights writing up my dreams. I am busy working on the next in the Forsaken series and will use a lot of my time off to get much done. At least this is my hope. I have so many projects in writing to accomplish.

My newest book is coming out in the beginning of November, Forsaken Norse Wind. It is about a troll and his beautiful mate. My spin on the troll is a bit different from usual tales. He is ugly only when he wants to be and gorgeous all other times.

Writing has been a blessing in that I have connected with wonderful people, like my series co-writer, Elise Whyles and my publishers. Writing has also been a learning experience and I feel blessed with this opportunity.

Thanks for reading and Happy Holidays!

Ciara Lake

www.ciaralakeromancebooks.com/

THIS IS A WONDER “Fall” TIME OF THE YEAR by Ciara Lake

2012-10-06T16:01:00.000-07:00

Many things in my world inspire my writing. I feel blessed when inspiration hits me. Anything can start a string of thoughts, which can manifest into a new tale. The daily news, music, people I meet and or watch when people watching, television, movies, and general life experiences. I love to sit outside or take walks. During these times, I come up with new dreams to write about. I love spending time outside when it is fall. The autumn weather and the beauty of Ohio stimulate my mind. Ohio has a lovely fall season. I also love fall because my birthday is in October. We go to the state parks to see the autumn foliage on or around my birthday. This time of year has always been enjoyable. Fall is also the beginning of the big holiday seasons we celebrate. It is all very exciting to think about and plan for our family events.

When I started writing Tallusian Nights it was fall of 2011, the leaves changing in the woods at my father’s farm gave me the idea for the Tallusian Forest. In Tallusian Nights, the lovers share sensual moments under a canopy of beautiful reddish and amber trees. On the planet of Tallusia, the forest is always the colors of Ohio’s fall. This vision came to my imagination from admiring the woods out the windows of my father’s house. It was like I painted the scene in my mind and put it on paper to be read. I added the people to create the complete story. In fact, I was pleased the artist for the book’s cover used the amber and reddish colors too.

Now I am working on another book for the Forsaken series and the weather is helping my imagination. The cool breeze blowing through my hair is great motivator for imagination. I just step outside when having a block. Or just looking out the windows at the pretty colors seems to make my mind work better. The book I’m working on now features Mermaids. Unfortunately, Ohio has no ocean views. So, I look on the web or pictures of my past vacations. I lived on Guam for several years so I think of the days I played in the sea. I learned to scuba dive and became a PADI rescue diver while living there. Guam is surrounded by glorious blue water. It is a gorgeous island. The water is so clear and full of life. It is great to reminisce of playing in the warm sea. Of course, the Mer don’t need special equipment to frolic and play. They swim free as masters of the sea in my story. They have magical powers under the sea and on land. It is so much fun to dream up these places and people. As of today, I am only 15K into the Mermaid story. I have named it, Forsaken Waves of Time. I am still dreaming it all up. I like to dream as I go along. I start with an outline, but I often change it until it falls just into place.

Just remember when starting to write stories, poems, and or music, allow yourself the time to look at your environment. Enjoy the people around you too. A mere word can get an idea flowing into a great work of art. Enjoy your imagination.

Happy reading and enjoy the fall season,

Ciara Lake

This is Guam… one of my favorite views.

This is how it looks around where my father’s farm is located. It is very similar. See how beautiful Ohio is. Wouldn’t these views stimulate your mind?

My Favorite Rogue: Rhett Butler by Libby Mercer

2012-05-26T07:00:00.000-07:00

I’m probably going to be stoned to death for admitting to this, but… Mr. Darcy bores me to tears. That’s a strong statement, I know, and I can definitely appreciate his good qualities, but as a romantic ideal, I really don’t get the universal appeal. Captain Butler, on the other hand, well… he’s a different story.

A scoundrel. A scamp. A scalawag.

Any reader with even the slightest case of Bad Boy Fever (whether in real life or in fiction only) will warm to Rhett right from the start. His confidence, and yes even his cockiness draws the reader (or the filmgoer, if you prefer) to his side almost immediately. I think it’s a combination of courage and perhaps a bit of the devil-may-care that leads him to question aloud the wisdom of going to war in the presence of so many bloodthirsty gentlemen, desperate to fight in the name of honor.

And we can’t overlook the fact that the man is smart. Unlike all the other men in Gone With the Wind, who are swept up in the hullabaloo of impending war, Rhett is able to understand and articulate the foolishness of engaging in battle with the North. His later roles as blockade-runner and war profiteer don’t endear him much to his contemporaries. Granted, Rhett’s sense of community is questionable at this point in the story, but his business sense is admirable. It’s not mentioned in the film, but in the novel, we learn that Rhett, estranged from his family and kicked out of West Point, made his fortune in the California gold rush. Intelligence and business savvy are, I believe, two of the most universally appealing aspects in a man, whether real or fictional, and Rhett Butler has them in abundance.

One thing that sets Rhett apart from the other men in the Gone With the Wind is his frank sexuality, which is particularly notable when we compare him to the very non-sexual Ashley Wilkes. He makes no secret of his frequent visits to Belle Watling’s house of ill repute, and long before he asked Scarlett to marry him, he asked her to be his mistress. Although this was overlooked in the film version, in the novel, we learn that Rhett is the guardian of a young boy who’s away at boarding school. It’s never confirmed, but the implication is that the child is Rhett’s illegitimate son.

And then of course there’s the manner in which he handles Miss Scarlett. Scarlett is a top class manipulator, skilled in using her charms to bend people (well… men, anyway) to her will. She’s unable to do this with Rhett. Not that he doesn’t have it bad for her. Obviously, he does. But he’s fully aware of the motivation behind her coquettish behavior, and the fact that he has this knowledge takes her down a few pegs. Rhett is the only one who truly understands Scarlett and this is why they’re so perfectly matched. Too bad she doesn’t realize this until it’s too late.

So there you have it. Rhett Butler, my all-time favorite rogue. Just as a disclaimer, John Harrington, the hero of my new romance novel, Fashioning a Romance, is nothing like Rhett. He’s not the least bit rogue-ish. I have yet to write a Rhett-inspired hero, but I definitely plan to do so in the not-so-distant future. So be sure to stay tuned!

Libby Mercer lives in San Francisco, CA. She enjoys crafts, knitting and sewing in particular and traveling. She also likes long walks on the beach, and a cup of hot chocolate in front of a roaring fire. Visit her website today to find out more about Libby and her books, including a lovely free read!

Spaced Out by Mary S. Palmer

2012-05-25T07:00:00.000-07:00

Making revisions to my science-fiction book TIME WILL TELL gave me new thoughts about values. Since the outer-space beings in it have a lot of free time, I began to wonder how that would feel.

Since I have a type "A" personality, I need to be busy. My philosophy is that people who have all day to perform a task, any task, take all day to do it. Perhaps without realizing it, they drag it out. A four hour chore can usually be accomplished in that amount of time.

It's good for retirees to keep occupied, but it bothers me when they say, "I don't know how I ever had time to work." It seems to me they've just reset their priorities.

The same would apply for people who say, "I don't have time to write." Honestly, though, don't we make time for the things we really want to do--especially fun activities? Oh, but writing is work. Right. But if you really love it, it's a blend of work and pleasure; sometimes, a catharsis. It can be much more entertaining to put down your own thoughts than it is to sit passively and watch a boring TV show with a plot line that tells you the outcome up front. Or one filled with so much sex, violence and offensive language that you can't even determine what the plot is.

That's a waste of time to me. I'd rather be creating characters and learning to love or hate them. In addition, I like to see where, when and how those characters are going to lead the plot forward. More importantly, I like to let them reveal why they act as they do. If I can feel what they feel, maybe readers can, too. In interacting with my characters, by extension, I am interacting with my audience.

If I learned anything by editing my book, it is that outer-space creatures in novels often aren't too different from earthlings. Even though we may say we'd like to have time to do different things, most people become discontented and bored if they don't feel productive, except the couch potatoes, maybe. But I wonder if even they feel useless some of the time. Isn't it human nature to have a purpose in life? Perhaps TIME WILL TELL.

Mary S. Palmer teaches English at Faulkner State Community College and Faulkner University. She enjoys collecting beanie babies, and plates from the states and countries that she has visited. She writes stories in a variety of genres. Visit her website to find out more about Mary and her books.

Interview with Clayne MacDagon, Curse of A Dragon’s Claim, Forsaken series book 2 by Ciara Lake

2012-05-05T07:00:00.000-07:00

Ciara Lake was asked to do Regina Paul’s blog. She’s been really busy with other work. So, she asked me to participate in this interview.

1. What about you is heroic?

This is hard for me to answer this question. I guess I am heroic in the love for my family. I would do anything for my mate, Arianna and or my entire family. I would sacrifice myself in their protection. Also, I will protect my friends, my people as well. I am a warrior and have fought many battles with the vampires and or anyone else who desires to pick a fight with us. I hate to enter into conflict but I will not hesitate to defend my home.

2. Do you have a nickname? What is it, and where did you get it?

Over the years my mate has started calling me Clay…instead of Clayne. She just shortens my name. She calls me this mostly when we are alone and in our intimate moments.

3. What's the worst thing one of your siblings ever did to you? What's the worst thing you've done to one of your siblings?

The worse thing my only sibling did to me was to die. I know this sounds harsh, but this is the truth. My heart breaks at the thought of her passing away from us. She was beautiful and sweet. Clarrisa was my twin sister. We were so close from our beginnings. My heart ached forever when we lost her. The worse thing I did to her is to fail her, to not protect her as I should have. I should have been there to fight off her attackers. I have lamented over this fact for centuries. I had failed to be her hero or even a good brother. Sorry I get carried away. Arianna scolds me for harboring these feelings.

Arianna has helped me to escape my pain. Our children have helped as well. I see Clarrisa in my children’s eyes and it brings joy to my heart. Despite the years that have passed I miss her so very much. You know immortals aren’t supposed to die, so we are less equipped to handle such losses. Clarrisa was murdered right in our home by the vampires. This betrayal of the vampires from those who were supposed to be allies has caused me years of anger and hatred against them. It almost stood in the way of me meeting Arianna. My beautiful wife and mate, is a Dracvipen, a mix between vampire and dragon. When I met her she was living as a Forsaken among the mortals. She is my lovely soul mate, who has saved my heart from eternal loneliness. She has not replaced Clarrisa, she has healed me with her love. So you see sometimes hate can cripple a person. I thank the gods I found my true love. She has eased my pain and brought me renewed joy.

4. What is something you had to learn that you hated?

I think I answered this question above. The answer is the vampires. I hate their blood thirsty need for war. Their dishonesty and betrayal to other immortals. I also hate Amuliana’s for what I think her part was in all of this. I cannot speak too loudly against her as she is a goddess. However, the deep down feeling I have about her wickedness causes my feelings to erupt. Trust me when a dragon’s feelings erupt, the room gets really hot.

5. What annoys you more than anything else?

It annoys me when my children don’t listen to me as they should. My oldest daughter has waywardness about her. She wants to experience adventure. Too much adventure. She has a hard head.

She wants to travel to New York City in the year 2013. She wants to live and work among these modern day mortals. She says they are interesting and curious. She also has made friends with some vampires. Can you believe that? They are young vampires born long after the conflict between us began. But still, it worries me.

I have warned her about modern cities too and mortal men with their more sophisticated ways. Mortal men have changed a lot over the centuries. They have the magic of technology now. They are not the simpletons they once were. They are powerful in their ways. Many are now in tune with the supernatural and we are more easily detected. This has benefits and disadvantages to us. Anyway, it annoys me she and my other children do not listen as I would prefer. I always listen to my parents. Ouch! Arianna just slapped on arm. Okay, I guess not always…. Okay… not much. Arianna keeps me honest. J

6. What was the wildest thing you've ever done, sexually? Who was it with and when did it happen?

This answer better involve my mate. Huh? She is sitting here next to me as I do this interview. I’m smiling and so is she.

Of course, I have been faithful to my lovely wife and mate and I cannot remember anyone else. I refuse to think of others, ever. A dragon always is always loyal to their mates. She is my heart, my soul.

So, the most exciting or wild moments have been with Arianna. We have had romantic and wild moments while in the Enchanted Forest. I love the time in that enchanted wood. Making love beneath the branches of those charmed trees is like nothing else. You can read about our sexually charged moments in Ciara’s book, Curse of A Dragon’s Claim, Forsaken Series book 2

7. Is there any sexual activity that you enjoy and/or practice regularly that can be considered non-standard? (Bondage, Fantasy Play, etc.) Why do you like it?
Arianna likes me to chase her. We play this game a lot. I play the big bad dragon after her and she acts like she is running. She giggles a lot while running from my fierceness. When I catch her I get to do all sorts of things to my lovely victim. She likes that too. She begs me for mercy and agrees to satisfy me in all I desire.

She started this game. I love it now. LOL. It is all done playfully. Arianna, who once lived as a mortal, gets a really big thrill out of me roaring at her and flames coming out of my nose. Then she soothes my beast, I transform to my human form to make love to my captive. You may laugh, but we have fun. J

That’s all I can say about my Lady wife, the rest is really too hot for this interview. Just know Arianna is hot blooded as I am. We really enjoy being together as much as possible. It never gets old for us.

Thank you for allowing me to do this interview. I hope you enjoy our story, Curse of a Dragon’s Claim, Forsaken Series book 2. Remember, immortals and Forsaken are among you.

If you have any further questions for me, please contact Ciara Lake at CiaraLakeromanceauthor@gmail.com

Check out http://www.BeachwalkPress.com to purchase our story.

Good day,

Clayne MacDagon

A Chocoholic Confesses by Lynn Hones

2012-04-30T23:17:00.001-07:00

My newest release, A Titanic Tale, went on sale April 15^th, exactly 100 years to the day of that tragic maritime disaster. On this blog tour I planned on talking about the Titanic, and I still will, but today something else has been on my mind.

Easter was a while ago, but my kids still have their baskets hidden away. Why are they hidden away, you ask? It’s because I’m a candy fiend and they’re not. They’ll eat a piece here and there, leisurely enjoying the bounty of chocolate bunnies and those delicious jelly beans. Not me. I’ve already sniffed out their hiding places and unbeknownst to them, because I’m crafty, I’ve eaten most of it. Usually, in the middle of the night, I start my commando mission. I wake up and tell myself, “Not tonight. No, you’re stronger than this.” Two minutes later I’m tiptoeing into their rooms and silently rifling through the plastic green grass for those little pieces of paradise.

I wake in the morning surrounded by the brightly colored foils of Ghiradelli Chocolate eggs and feel remorse, shame and guilt wash over me as swiftly as Willie Wonka’s wonderful waterfall washes over the rock candy in his factory of caloric hell.

I’m an older woman—fifty-two-years-old, when will this insanity stop? I know admitting I’m a candyholic is the first step, but I guess if lying to, and stealing from my own innocent children is not my bottom, I’m destined to wallow in the chocolate river of aforementioned movie as a bottom-feeder, forever.

When they were small, I’d hide the box of Ho-Ho’s I bought at the grocery store, lest they see them. When the craving for chocolate came on, I’d grab one, (or God help me, two or three,) from the box and slowly retreat to the bathroom and close the door. Unwrapping, as quietly as I could, I’d hear breathing on the other side and see the shadow of pint-sized feet under the crack.

“Mommy, what are you doing?” I’d hear.

“Nothing,” I’d mumble back with a mouth full of chocolate goodness.

“Can we come in?”

“No, I’m almost done.” Swallowing, I’d wipe my mouth on a towel, shove the wrappers deep in the wastebasket, flush the toilet for effect and walk out.

“I smell chocolate,” one of them would say in childlike innocence.

“I took a laxative.”

“Oh,” they’d answer in unison, a look of confusion washing over their faces, and walk away.

Not too long ago my youngest was talking to me while standing next to my bed. Her hand inadvertently found its way between my mattress and box spring and she pulled out wrapper after wrapper of damning evidence. I’d been found out. My adrenaline rose, our eyes locked and she screamed for her sister like a banshee on a mission. My oldest came running in and they both glared at me as if I were Arthur Slugworth, the villain hired by Mr. Wonka to fool the children into selling the gobstopper as a morality test. And I felt like him, too. Or, should I say, I felt like one who’d failed his said test of integrity.

How low will I go? When will it stop? What am I doing to my family, my children, my home? I wish it would all come to a brilliant cinematic end. Me, finally admitting I can’t take it anymore as I renounce my love of candy. In the multi-directional glass elevator, I’d take flight out of that chocolate river of guilt infested waters for the fresh blue skies of healthy living. I’d renounce my candy and sweets binging, cravings of green vegetables and ripe fruits my new normal. What an ending…what an ending. Nope…not going to happen.

Blurb:

Beautiful Cornelia Bainesworth cared only about herself and her own life the night the Titanic went down. A curse brought on by a woman who witnessed her selfish behavior that evening destroys her, but it doesn’t stop there.

One hundred years later, the curse rears its ugly head in the life of small-town teenager Callie. As if the tragedy of her boyfriend’s death wasn’t enough, strange occurrences bring her to the brink of insanity. Callie’s search for answers is unsuccessful until a nerdy schoolmate takes up her cause and together they experience frightening apparitions, unexplained phenomena and chilling truths. These truths turn Callie’s life upside down and reveal a shocking ending to a story that began on the deck of a ship doomed the moment it saw light.

Excerpt:

Callie went to her window and stared out at the streetlight in front of their house. Lost in thought, she caught a quick movement, but ignored it. When she saw a small child peek out from behind a telephone pole and looking up into her window, however, she grew concerned.

“What the hell?” She watched the little figure’s head dart from behind the pole, look up at her and quickly retreat back. It seemed to either be playing games with her, or trying to hide.

“Hey, you? What are you doing up so late?”

The child gave no reply. She walked out of her room, down the stairs and opened the front door. I bet some neighbor kid walked out of their home and can’t find how to get back.

Stepping out on the porch, she wrapped her arms around herself. The air was still hot and muggy, but it was worry, not chill that had her hugging her body.

“Hey? Where are you? Come here.”

No movement, but she saw an arm still visible from around the pole. Gathering some bravado, she stepped off the porch and walked toward it.

“Hello. Don’t be afraid. Are you lost?”

The person stepped out from behind the pole.

Callie’s eyes had adjusted enough to see a boy with light hair and fair skin. His clothes, if that’s what they could be called, were rags. A gray suit, that had to be several years old, hung off his skeletal frame.

“Hi, honey. What are you doing out here so late?” Callie squatted and held out her arms for the boy, hoping to show him she meant no harm. His dirty, drawn face held the soul of an adult, although he couldn’t be older than three or four years.

“Tis late?”

“Yes, it’s two-thirty in the morning. Where do you live? Where are your mommy and daddy?”

“I don’t know,” he said shyly.

She caught the distinct brogue of the Irish in his speech. “You don’t know? Well, where do you think you live?”

He pointed down the road.

“Is it close by?”

He shook his sad little head. “No.”

“Okay, look, come with me. I’ll get my car and drive you home. Do you think you can find it if we drive and look for it?”

The waif nodded, yes.

Once in the car, she drove for about a mile. Every so often, she glanced at the boy to see if he recognized anything.

“Nothing looks familiar, huh?”

he child shivered.

“Are you cold, honey? Here, I’ll put the windows up.”

“Thank you kindly, ma’am.” He sat up, straightened his legs and looked out the window, obviously searching for something familiar. His thin hands were folded neatly in his lap, but rose occasionally to point the way. Callie realized he was leading them to the neighborhood where the Coopers lived, Bainesworth Manor. It butted up against a large field that turned into woods further back. On the other side of the street were miles of barren farmland, waiting patiently for the inevitable McMansion to be built. However, they drove past Bainesworth Manor and about a half mile down the road he spoke.

“Here it is,” he said timidly.

She pulled into a dark, park-like area barren of any homes. Her blood ran cold when, upon closer inspection, she noticed it was no park, but a cemetery. Not just any cemetery either, this was the kind of cemetery where skeletons wandered and witches made their brew. The kind where werewolves hid behind gravestones and hands reached up from the netherworld, searching around for the ankles of unsuspecting mortals stupid enough to be in a graveyard after dark. She pressed the gas pedal, but instead of moving, the car died.

“What?” Frantically, she turned the key and the engine turned over once and stopped. After several more tries she realized if she continued she’d simply flood the engine. She reached into her purse for her cell phone. In her panic, she’d forgotten her passenger and looked across at him.

“Sweetie, this is a graveyard. It’s not your home.” Unable to find her phone, she dumped the contents of her purse between the driver and the passenger seat.

“Dammit. This is not happening.” Without even glancing his way, she apologized for her use of foul language.

Resigned, she sat back in the seat and stared ahead. “Great, I guess we can walk to the Coopers.” She put all the items back into her purse. Slinging it over her shoulder, she grabbed a flashlight out of the glove box and stepped out of the car.

“Come on, honey. I know some people who live a bit down the road. We can wake them up and hope they won’t be too pissed off.” She glanced at the squirt. “I’m sorry, again. I mean angry.”

This cemetery was unknown to her, but from the looks of the dates she spotted as they walked, it had filled up long ago. The new one, where Blake was buried, was on the other side of town.

She glanced up at the full moon. “Queue the howling.”

Attempting a bravado she didn’t possess, she closed the door and moved away from the car. The moon cast enough light to see perfectly.

“I’m fine walkin’. My home is right there.”

“I don’t see any houses.”

He pointed into the cemetery.

“You live past the graveyard? Are you sure you don’t want me to walk with you?”

“If you be a wishin’ to.”

She smiled at him. “Come on, let’s get you home to your mother.” She put her hand reassuringly on his shoulder.

“Me mother is dead.”

“Who do you live with? Your daddy?”

“Never been knowin’ me dad.”

“Well, you must live with someone.”

“All the kind people. They don’t know me, but when I get to cryin’ someone will rise up and come to me.”

Large prickly gooseflesh covered her body from head to toe at that comment. Something wasn’t right. She’d suspected it the first time she’d laid eyes on the boy, but now, she knew for sure.

He began to walk. In the middle of the graves in a noticeably older area, he stopped and turned toward her. He seemed to grow paler, thinner, and sadder. He took a couple more steps, stopped and stared down.

“I be home now, mum.” His expression was heartrending, his large eyes rose and met hers.

“What?” She looked at him. “There’s nothing here but weeds.”

“I’m home. Tis my home ‘til the curse be lifted.”

Stunned at his words, Callie backed away. “What are you talking about?”

“The curse, ma’am. It’s stickin’ good.”

A wind picked up and, before her eyes, he metamorphosed into a mist, which swirled about for a moment before sinking into the ground.

A cold sweat broke out on her skin and a crippling fear stabbed roughly at her chest. An ugly, wintry fright came close to bringing her to her knees and impaled her to the spot. Paralyzed, she willed herself to breathe.

“How…why?” She gathered her courage and backed away, clutching her stomach, forcing the urge to vomit away.

“Dear, God, what just happened?”

Please visit my website: Lynn Hones

My Transition from Contemporary Romance to Paranormal By Natalie-Nicole Bates

2012-04-20T11:09:00.001-07:00

I haven’t always been a writer. From childhood, I was a voracious reader. As an adult, I segued into book reviewing. It has only been in the last year or so when I made the transition into writing. If you had asked me six months ago what genre I wrote, I would have responded, contemporary romance.

Indeed, my first novel is a contemporary romance called Change of Address, was released by Secret Cravings Publishing this January.

I have always been a fan of the paranormal genre. But as a book reviewer, I have seen it all—vampires, werewolves, shape-shifters, even zombies. The paranormal genre has always been popular, but has exploded over the last few years. Writers are writing it well, too. I felt an inclination towards the genre, but I knew that if I wanted to writing paranormal, I was going to have to find a fresh idea.

The inspiration found me. I am an avid collector of Victorian and Edwardian-era photographs. To me, there is much beauty in these black and white stills. This past spring, I found a photograph from an online seller that completely captivated me. The size of a postcard, but printed on a much thicker stock was the image of a funeral home (I come from a long line of folks in the funeral care business). Outside, a very handsome man stands proudly with his hands clasped in front of him, most likely one of the owners at the time. Although the photo is slightly faded, you can still clearly make out the reflection in the glass of a black funeral carriage tied with elaborate ribbons. The back of the photo reads in very elegant script, Week of Oct-11-1896.

Although the photo was pricy, I splurged and bought it for myself.

When I finally held it in my hands, I was in love. It was then that an idea occurred to me. What if a very lovely lady who is just starting out in the funeral business buys this particular funeral home, determined to restore it to its former glory. And what would happen if one night this woman was visited by the very handsome man in the photo who claims to still own the funeral home?

To me, the idea seemed like a good one. He wasn’t a ghost or a vampire. The closest I could describe him is as a dybbuk. In Jewish folklore, the wandering soul of a dead person that enters the body of a living person and controls his or her behavior.

This is how Antique Charming came to be. I get frequently asked why this story is so short. My reason is because Antique Charming was never meant to be a full-length novel, but more a delightful bite to be enjoyed by the reader. Perhaps at some future time I will speak with my publisher about turning it into a full novel. But for right now, my photographs are inspiring a few more paranormal spins. Look out for the release of See Me, from Leap of Faith Publishing.

Blurb for Antique Charming:

The night he came home…forever.

Third-generation funeral director Lizzie Morton is about to have her dream realized. She has purchased the long abandoned Nichols Funeral Home and its upstairs flat, determined to restore the funeral home to its once former glory. But a late night visitor, Adam Nichols, claims the funeral home still belongs to his family. Lizzie scoffs at his odd behaviour and outlandish claims, but when a vintage photograph appears, she soon realizes, to her horror, that Adam Nichols did once own the funeral home—more than one hundred years ago—and now she has allowed this entity to pass into her home.

Excerpt:

She heard it again.

The same time as last Friday night.

Three taps at her front door.

Lizzie muted the television, tossed the blanket off of her body and scurried out of bed. She slipped her robe over her shoulders and tied it securely, determined to find out who in the world would knock at her door at three in the morning. By the time she had reached the door the week previous, no one was there. The street had been dark and still.

It had to be a mistake. She had only recently closed sale on the long abandoned funeral home, determined to restore it to its once former glory. She had only been living in the upstairs flat for a few weeks.

As she hurried down the staircase, each step beneath her feet creaked in protest. There was no one visible through the peephole. She unchained the door and opened it just enough to peek around it.

No one was there, just like the previous week.

The street was dark and quiet. Not even the whisper of a wind could be detected. Only the cold dampness of the October night raised a chill on her skin.

Who was playing this weekly joke on her? Could it be the ghosts of some departed soul who had passed through the halls of Nichols Funeral Home sometime during the past century? A small smile crossed her lips as she prepared to close and lock the door. She was a third generation Funeral Director. Did she now believe in ghosts?

Before the door could close, a hand poked into the slight space and seized her wrist. A cry rose in her throat and she jerked backward, but the hand held tight and the door flung open.

The man emerged, shrouded in darkness. He was an ethereal creature, tall, and dressed in anonymous black. Only a streetlight glowed behind him.

“I’m home,” he announced.

Bio:

Natalie-Nicole Bates is a book reviewer and author.

Her passions in life include books and hockey along with Victorian and Edwardian era photography. Natalie contributes her uncharacteristic love of hockey to being born in Russia.

She currently resides in the UK where she is working on her next book and adding to her collection of 19^th century post-mortem photos.

Visit Natalie-Nicole online at www.natalienicolebates.com

WALK LIKE A MAN: How a Woman Writer Captures a Man’s POV by Donna Del Oro

2012-04-19T12:04:00.000-07:00

How does “She tipped up her chin at the stranger, resisting the man’s attempt at intimidation” become “He shot the stranger a don’t-fuck-with-me look”?

In order for a female fiction writer to avoid caricature and instead capture the sensibilities of a male, her mindset must change. As we all know, POV is vital in accurately portraying a male character (or any character, for that matter) and thus creating and sustaining verisimilitude. A story hinges on how believably the POV portrays/expresses the character in question, and that believability extends to gender. Even if you jump POVs from hero to heroine, the male POV scenes MUST BE MASCULINE, and therefore DIFFERENT in VOICE, ATTITUDE, and LANGUAGE.

The two sexes are different. We have different world views, mindsets, expectations and preoccupations. For example, one psychologist’s study showed that men think about sex at least sixteen times per day; assuming sixteen hours of wakefulness, that’s a minimum of once per hour. Conversely, women contemplate sex one-third as often. Isn’t it a marvel how men find time to start and fight wars, when so much of their conscious mind is preoccupied with sex? Or find the time to fill a weekend as an armchair quarterback? Are sex, sports and war games their main preoccupations?

Another preoccupation is their sense of “manhood”, their need to prove themselves “manly”. Watch a fence-enclosed playground of children some time. Little girls will reasonably enter and exit via the open gate. Not little boys. The five-foot high cyclone fence becomes a test of physical strength and agility—a challenge of manhood, if you will, and a string of little boys will dare each other to climb over. The little girls look on, some puzzled by the boys’ illogical behavior, others openly admiring the little daredevils who need to resist the lure of logic.

Read the novels of male authors to learn the male mindset. From the cerebral, artistic but nonetheless lethal Mossad assassin, Gabriel, of Daniel Silva, to the military action heroes of Brad Thor; from the political thrillers of Vince Flynn to the police procedurals of Michael Connelly and John Lescroat, to the scientific adventurers of James Rollins and Steve Berry—the male gender has his own distinct Point of View. And that includes, of course, his VOICE, ATTITUDE and LANGUAGE.

So, how to capture a man’s worldview, or—as the German philosophers call it—“weltanschauung”? Sparingly. A male fiction hero uses action more than speech to convey his worldview. A female writer not only has to reflect his POV in inner dialogue and reflection (or narration), but also in his actions and his spoken words. Or lack of them. For a male character, long silences are common. Daniel Silva’s Gabriel, the Mossad agent whose cover is Renaissance art restorer, spends days silently restoring his canvasses while simultaneously plotting his next mission. When a male author writes men’s dialogue, he does so sparingly. When a female author writes men’s dialogue, there is almost no difference between the male and female characters. We don’t realize how little men really speak.

Dialogue, of course, has to reflect the character. Men don’t talk as much as women. This is not stereotype or cliche. The same applies to little girls and boys. Several psychological studies have rated female speech as four to five times more frequent and denser than male speech. There’s more profanity, too, in male speech and many more sports metaphors. How many times have you heard a man say, “Time to get the ball and run with it”? Or “The ball’s in your court”, “I’m going for broke”, and—one from the military—“It’s all FUBAR, man”.

When FBI analyst, Jake Bernstein, in my sexy spy-thriller, A BODYGUARD OF LIES, gazes at the medieval-era Iron Maiden torture chamber in the dungeon at Cardiff Castle, he reflects on man’s inhumanity to man, and then thinks immediately of his German-Jewish grandfather’s survival guilt. He thinks outloud and, in a moment of spontaneous candor, shares his grandfather’s suffering with Meg, the grand-daughter of the woman he’s investigating. In the next moment, he covers his embarrassment by seizing and kissing her. A moment of vulnerability takes a more aggressive, sexual turn. Men’s rule: Never show your weaknesses.

In another scene, by-the-book Bernstein crosses the line and risks his career by becoming sexually involved with Meg, but only after confirming in his own mind Meg’s innocence. He rationalizes his involvement with the needs of his investigation, but soon assumes the role of protector for both the target—the grandmother—and the target’s grand-daughter. Jake shows, not by words of affection, but by action alone his feelings for Meg. That his investigation has been compromised creates a moral and practical dilemma for Jake, which he deals with in his own inimitable way. His lonely search for love supercedes the need for justice, but only temporarily. Ultimately, Jake turns things around. Justice does prevail in the end, but not in the way some might expect or hope.

Surliness, cynicism and sarcasm are all accepted male attributes, especially in tough “alpha” males. From the lone gunslinger to the “Mission Impossible” stoical action hero, the alpha male feels, suffers, but never complains. Especially not to females. He might be flawed, drink or smoke too much, pick the wrong woman, or put himself in life-threatening situations, but HE NEVER COMPLAINS and NEVER CRIES. Remember an incredulous Tom Hanks exhorting his female baseball players, “There’s no crying in baseball!”? There are unspoken mottos of machismo among men: NO CRYING EVER. TAKE IT LIKE A MAN. WALK LIKE A MAN. TOUGHEN UP AND STAND TALL. Those attitudes are deep-seated and intrinsic to a male’s psyche. My seven year-old grandson already has incorporated those mottos into his outlook and behavior, and the male role models in his life are sensitive, educated, verbally gifted men. Somehow, through osmosis of cultural mores, little boys learn what is necessary to WALK LIKE A MAN.

“Defending the Caveman”, a one-man comedy show, reminded me recently of the male mindset and male speech. Men tend to get confused when women are verbose. Like their canine counterparts, they look for tone of voice and body language because they know that women don’t always say what they mean or mean what they say. Look at classic passive-aggressive power struggles between men and women. Men have difficulty arguing back, so they are more inclined to switch to passive-aggressive mode. They don’t like taking orders from a woman, and so if a woman nags a man to be home by five o’clock sharp, you can bet he’ll find something to do until five-thirty. Passive-aggression is a man’s stock in trade. Or he’ll take the opposite stance and just tell you to “fuck off”.

As a rule, however, men tend to clean up their language when in mixed-gender company, and that’s one of the main appeals of men-only clubs and teams. In such an environment, they can blow off steam, scratch themselves, belch outloud, insult each other with “dickhead” and “butt-wipe” and laugh. And still remain good buddies. Imagine women going up to their girlfriends with a greeting like “Hi, fatty” or “Still wearing that old, ratty shirt?” That’d be the end of that friendship. With men, such insults are just friendly talk, a sign of good-humored male-aggression and tolerance. Listen in on a men-only poker game. Or go see the musical, “Jersey Boys”. There’s a reason why men loved that musical but hated “Mama Mia”.

Listen to men when they don’t realize a woman is around. Very hard to do because their sexual antennae always lets them know when a female is nearby or within earshot. But if you can avoid being detected, just tune in to them and listen with an open mind to their speech. It’s hilarious and, for a woman writer, quite an education. Go ahead. Do it. You’ll see what I mean.

Men of Character Inspiration by Maya DeLeina

2012-04-17T06:46:00.000-07:00

Of all the things I do on Facebook, there is one type of post I make that will set my laptop or Iphone on fire with likes and comments.

And it all has to do with simply adding a photo to an album cleverly labeled “Men of Character Inspiration.”

When Facebook updated some of their features, the page prompted me to add a location for all of the delectable photos I have collected in the album. What did I choose? I aptly named my location “In a land called Yummy.”

Currently, I have 27 photos in this album of 9 men. This is exactly appropriate for the title of the album, character inspiration. I guess if I named the album Eye Candy, I would have more like 707 photos or something within that range. 9 men and 27 photos— this tells me that I am very particular about the look of the men I develop in my stories.

There is one distinct detail in common with all of my men I use for inspiration— soul piercing eyes. Yes, rippled abs and succulent muscular arms are delicious, but it is a man’s eyes that can literally cripple every neurological receptor process that makes me form a single thought or body movement. Spellbinding, captive and telling, his eyes can freeze me in a moment of pure bliss. His eyes make the tiniest of hairs on my skin stand on end. His eyes can make Goosebumps parade up and down my spine. His eyes can make me….

Sorry, I had to get a drink of water.

Okay, you get the picture. I love a man’s eyes.

But lately readers and friends have been pointing out another distinct characteristic in my men that I didn’t notice.

They are all hairy!

It seems that a man that is a bit fury is sexy to me. Seeing that I don’t write about werewolves, this was a pretty surprising revelation for me.

Now, I feel I must clarify the fury part of this story.

I love a man that can sport a thick and rough five o’clock shadow. The deep scruff line against a strong jaw line is simply divine and….

Sorry, I had to get another glass of water.

I also love a man with a light draping of chest hair, something to get your fingertips lost in. I am talking Gerard Butler chest hair- not Magnum PI. That is like a rug. I mean, the point is to get your fingertips lost….not your entire hand.

And then there’s the ever present treasure trail. *Sigh*…let’s not go there or else I’ll just have to sit by the water faucet this time!

Now when it comes to a fury man, there is a tricky balance to be had. There are but two absolute areas in which no man should have a hair. Okay, more like three, but for the sake of keeping this article somewhat refined, let’s say two: inside the ears and on the back.

I have a “manscaper” friend that admitted that while he stays clear of the “nether regions” he gets his back waxed monthly. “Good on ya!” I said joyously as I patted his nicely bare back. I guess us women are the stronger of the sexes as we immediately go for waxing in the “nether regions” without a blink of an eye!

Friend or not, my Facebook page is open. Take a look and my album and you’ll see exactly the type of vampires you’ll run into in my series, Ambrose Heights Vampires.

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.154531474635210.40258.100002350757956&type=3

And be sure to check out my vampires brought to life: http://www.mayadeleina.net/mayas-vampires.html

If only Stephenie Meyer had a similar man craving; Edward would rival the fur on Jacob!

Flesh Fantasy – Ambrose Heights Vampires 1

Blurb: [Siren Allure: Erotic Paranormal Romance, vampires, bondage, orgies]

Tonight, Rain Calisto searches for her man, and Rhys Matthews comes into focus. He is well-built and sinisterly sexy. In the same Denver nightclub, Armand Anastasio searches for his woman—Rain. But the men are more than gorgeous. They are vampires, and they are unmated.
A chance encounter lands Rhys and Rain together. Their attraction remains undeniably powerful and they fall prey to lust. With each passionate tryst, Rhys senses a connection that goes beyond the flesh. Unbeknownst to Rhys, Rain is a diabetic. Her insulin alters her biological makeup, disguising a revelation he isn’t quite prepared for.
Rain is Rhys's fated mate.
As they struggle with this knowledge, another bombshell is dropped. Rain’s insulin-laced tissue creates a rare vampiric blood that can fetch a hefty profit, and Armand has always known this. Is his attraction to Rain genuine, or is he just out for her blood?
This is the diary of Rain and Rhys. Recorded here is their transformation from a flesh fantasy to eternal love.
Buy: http://www.amazon.com/Fantasy-Ambrose-Heights-Vampires-Publishing/dp/1619261499/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_2

Veil of Seduction –Ambrose Height Vampires 1

Blurb: [Siren Classic: Erotic Paranormal Romance, vampires, HEA]

A newborn vampire. A powerful leader. An inconsolable woman. The shaping of their eternity all lies within the eyes.
Steffan Matthews is the devastatingly handsome vampire leader of Ambrose Heights. He cultivates social order and invents concoctions that allow vampires to feel human once again.
But Steffan also has a devouring obsession that brings him to his knees. Her name is Anya. Steffan sets out to claim Anya, a mortal ripe for the taking, as his mate. But the blackness in the eyes of his newborn should’ve served as a warning. Anya is off-limits according to the vampire creed.
It will take the strength of the kinship, the purity of love, a hint of magic, and a subterranean guardian to shield Steffan against the wrath of Ryan Evans, protect him from the fate of the Nemesis, and bridge a passage to his rightful destiny.

Buy :http://www.amazon.com/Seduction-Ambrose-Vampires-Publishing-ebook/dp/B007FTNAVU/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_1

Texas Has A Lotta Bull and other things. . . . By Sable Hunter (Guest Blogger)

2012-04-15T08:00:00.000-07:00

Texas is my home. Louisiana is close to my heart and where I was born, but Texas is in my blood. You can drive up to my house and there are big wrought iron signs on my front porch proclaiming the superiority of the Lone Star State and the Longhorn football team. Texas has a lot to brag about. And today, I’m going to share with you some of the things that make the state more than a geographical location to me – like the commercial says – Texas is a state of mind.

First off – Texas is big. Now, I know it’s not the biggest state in the union – but its still a wide expanse of property. You can fit 220 Rhode Islands in Texas, in fast the King Ranch in Texas is bigger than the state of Rhode Island. There is an old saying about driving across Texas – of course now in the days of fast cars, it might not be strictly true – but its not far off, it depicts a poor couple in a car driving into the sunset and goes something like this: ‘The sun has riz and the sun has set and here we is in Texas, yet.’

I can understand that sentiment. I sing semi-professionally and had an engagement in El Paso where I was to sing the National Anthem and a couple of other songs at this event. Well, at the time – I was staying at our lake house and I took off for El Paso in plenty of time. And I made it – in 12 hours and 12 minutes, but by the time I got there I couldn’t remember the words to the national anthem and although I made it through the song, by the time I got through with it - it wasn’t our national anthem. I was so tired from my journey, I just made up words. The crowd was a bit confused. Anyway, - Texas stretches 800 miles from side to side – both ways – and that’s a fer piece, in anybody’s book.

Second – Texas has some strange laws. It’s illegal to carry wire-cutters in your pick-up truck. This goes back to the Range Wars when cattle roamed free and their owners protested those who were audacious enough to fence up their property. I carry a pair in my car just for meanness. Another strange law in Texas is that it’s illegal to draw graffiti on someone else’s cow. I wish they had told me this! I just recently snuck into my neighbor’s pasture and painted the letters ALOTA on their big Angus bull.

Third – Texas is full of bull – in more ways than one: no, seriously - I raise bulls. Big bulls. I sell them for breeding purposes. They are full-blood registered Beefmasters – some weigh a ton or more. They’re my babies. I begin working with them at birth and by the time they are grown, I can lay underneath them and they wouldn’t step on me. I brush them. They eat out of my hand and when I walk out to the pasture they come running at me like a freight train. Now most people would hightail it and run. But I know he’s gonna stop – sometimes nose to nose – but what he’s come after is a nugget or a scratch between the ears.

I’ve had some strange bulls in my time. I had one who would play hide and seek with me. He had a bad habit of standing at the fence and bellowing at another bull across the street. I don’t know what he was bellowing about, maybe he thought the other fellow’s cows were better looking. Who knows? But he even broke out a couple of times and sauntered over to fight the other bull. I would come along and find him standing at the fence saying dirty things to the fellow in the neighboring pasture and I would fuss at him. Now – his name was Mr. T and he didn’t like for me to fuss at him. So, he would hide from me when he saw me coming - now get this – he would stand behind a tree. The problem was that the tree in question was a good size pine but it was only about a foot wide. When Mr. T would stand behind it, the only thing he was hiding was his eyes – the rest of him stuck out about a foot on each side of the tree. Alotta bull.

I had another bull one time that had his preference of pastures. We rotate the cattle around to various locations to take advantage of grass plantings and water availability – but Red Warrior didn’t like to move. He would get homesick, lay on the fence till he pushed it over and walk home. Now, he never did this during the day and I would have given anything to see that two ton bull walking down the highway in the middle of the night on his way back to his favorite stomping grounds. I’m just glad he didn’t get flattened by a semi-truck.

My favorite bull story concerns Hannibal. Hannibal was blessed with extra long male parts. In fact, once or twice Hannibal stepped on his own good time. I think about this every time I hear a man say that he wished he was hung like a bull - - they don’t know what they’re asking for.

I’ve always loved animals. When my mother married my step-dad we left Louisiana and moved to his ranch in Texas. He raised cattle for slaughter and I couldn’t stand that. I worried him and worried him – incessantly. He would tell me every tale in the world to convince me that my friends weren’t being made into hamburger, but I was nobody’s fool. So, he changed to registered cattle and now nobody gets eaten. In fact we have cattle sales where the buyers arrive in helicopters and are met at the gate by a wet bar so they can have sustenance to make the long drive to the sale barn (a half mile) and when the cattle come into the auction barn, they walk on a red carpet – no kidding. I have often wondered about that because I was always the official pooper scooper and that is a bad job when you have poop as big as those rascals do. So our world changed.

But I had good memories of my dad and his cattle. When I was a little scamp, he would go out to help calves be born and he wouldn’t let me go with him. I guess he didn’t want to have to explain the birds and the bees so early in my childhood and watching a cow birth a calf would certainly have dispelled some of the mystery. Anyway, when he would start out, I would ask him where he was going and he said he was going to ‘dig up’ a calf. This fascinated me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I imagined calves being out in the pasture like buried treasure. So one day, I took my trusty little shovel and headed out. After a while, they began looking for me. My Pop found me in the pasture digging holes. He fussed and fussed, said the horses would step in them and break their legs. He asked me what in all-fired tarnation did I think I was doing? I told him the simple truth – I was digging up a calf. He didn’t know what to say.

Another thing about Texas is that men have different priorities here. It’s hard to be a woman who loves a Texas man because you have to complete with so many other things for his affection. Let me name a few of the things you have to compete with so you’ll know where I’m coming from: his mama, his pick-up truck, his tractor, his dog, his gun and his hat. Now, that’s a lot of competition. And if you can get by all of those things – there is one more huge obstacle – hunting season. Hunting season is sacred in Texas – its right up there with Christmas. Deer hunting is the main attraction – and it’s not a simple sport. Men have to have hunting gear. A lot of gear. They have to have special clothes and heated socks and deer pee to make them smell right and they have to have places to hunt. I’ve seen some deer stands in Texas that could be classified as man-caves. They have recliners and refrigerators and all the comforts of home. And the deer camps are equipped with cabins that rival the homes they build for their wives. My husband’s deer camp had granite countertops and recessed ceiling with track lighting. There was a wet bar and a satellite - - oh well, if you ever read Trouble – you’d get a glimpse of Ky’s place and I patterned it after ours. In “My Aliyah” - Ty and Aliyah made love in their deer stand – so deer stands see a lot of action in Texas. – But I want to share something funny with you. It’s an excerpt from BADASS – and the funny thing about it – its true – all of it happened to me – just the names have been changed to protect the innocent.

BADASS is a book full of everything Texas has to offer and a lotta sex – hot lovin – and hunky men to boot.

Here’s the blurb – followed by the excerpt

Isaac McCoy is every woman’s dream. He’s a cowboy, one of the Texas McCoy’s of Tebow Ranch – tall, dark, handsome and sexy as hell. To add to the mystery, he’s a biker – clad in black leather, riding a big Harley – he makes the girls swoon. To put it simply, Isaac is the black sheep of the family. And what his family doesn’t know is that he’s also a Dom. Always a little different from his brothers –Isaac has been into fast cars, fast women – and the kinkier side of sex. Until Avery. That’s right’s the Texas Badass has fallen for the angel of Kerrville County – the Baptist Preacher’s daughter – Miss Prim and Proper. And that will never do. As much as he wants her, Isaac pushes her away – sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind.

Avery has been in love with Isaac for years and she’s ready to make her move. But Isaac makes it clear that they come from different worlds, there’s no way she can fit in to his life. She’s not the kind of woman he needs. So, Avery decides to take matters into her own hands. What she intends to do is take lessons in how to be a bad girl. Avery is determined to learn what it takes to please Isaac in every way. She’s seriously after her Badass – and soon, he’s not going to know what hit him

EXCERPT –

“I can’t believe you’re gonna try and pull that old trick on Skye.” Noah shook his head at Isaac’s tomfoolery.

“Loosen up, little brother. She’s a city-girl. It’ll be fun.” It was deer season and all of the McCoy brothers had taken time in the past week for a hunting trip. Archery-only season began in early October and the tradition merited a festival-like atmosphere. The brothers hunted from horseback and harvested enough deer meat to keep the kitchen in sausage and venison for the next twelve months. This year their foreman, Lance, had invited his sister down from Oklahoma City for a few weeks. “Watch this. I pulled it on Jessie when she first got here and I thought she was going to deliver that baby right then and there.”

“Yea, and Jacob almost de-balled you for doing it, too.” Noah watched as Isaac took a pair of buck-eyes out of his pocket and tossed them in the air. “Skye sure is a beautiful woman – are you interested in her?”

Isaac stopped for a moment and looked at his brother. “She’s beautiful, but I’m not interested. So if you are, go for it, man. What about Harper?” Isaac knew Noah had had his heart set on Harper for years. But something had happened – something that Noah refused to talk about. Isaac knew what it was, and he hoped to high heaven that knowledge didn’t blow up in his face.

A funny look passed over Noah’s countenance, “Harper and I just aren’t meant to be.” That was the truth if Isaac ever heard it – Harper was nothing but trouble.

“You’ll find someone else, Noah. Someone that will make you smile. I have no doubt about that.”

Noah wasn’t arguing with him. “Skye is something else, Isaac. Hell, she’s just about fuckin’ perfect. I don’t know if it’s that Indian blood or what – but she makes my heart beat like a war drum.”

“So – paleface – is it okay if I tease your little Indian princess?” He was enjoying this, probably, too much, But, that was one of the perks of being the big brother.

“I’ll be watching you,” Noah joked with his brother, but Isaac could tell he was half-way serious. Figures. He was damn sure gonna quit drinking the water at Tebow. There were weddings and babies popping up all over the place. He’d be rich if he had bought stock in garter belts and diapers.

Isaac held the door for Noah and they walked in right as Aron threw a full beer can at Jacob. It whizzed right by Isaac and he caught it, neatly. “Thanks, I needed that. What are ya ‘ll throwing cold ones around for?”

The eldest McCoy sat in his big leather chair, feet propped upon the ottoman. His boots were dusty and his black Stetson was pushed back on his head. “Because we’re hot, tired and dusty, Hotrod. Hand your brother that beer, he’s spent the day trying to convince Mrs. Trahan that Red Warrior wasn’t trying to run her down and gore her to death.”

Isaac handed the can of Shiner beer to Jacob, who was sitting on the couch opposite the big screen TV watching a reality show featuring shooting competitions. “Thanks, bud. Have you seen this program? These guys have all kinds of target practice – wild stuff. I think we ought to have war-games like that at our next party. What do you think?”

“Well, since the next two parties we have are Joseph’s engagement party this weekend and your and Aron’s weddings the next - I don’t think that idea will fly very high with the womenfolk.” Noah answered with his usual logical thought process.

“He’s right.” Aron took a swig of beer. “I can’t see the girls going for target practice at their love festivals. We’ll have our gun shooting competition for Isaac’s birthday at Halloween. That’ll reward up for all the tedious romantic celebrations we’ve got to get through this month.” Isaac could see over Aron’s shoulder and what he saw made him want to snort. Aron hadn’t meant anything anti-wedding by his comment; after all he was desperately in love with Libby. But at the moment - Libby was right behind him, and she didn’t look happy. Isaac started to stop him from putting his foot any deeper in his mouth, but it was just too much fun. Aron started talking again, and he just made it worse. “I mean how much lovey-dovey stuff are we supposed to endure before we get to do some manly shit. Life at Tebow has become like one of them chick flicks on Lifetime Movie network. All we need is to hook you two up with a woman each, get Nathan a little girlfriend – bring Kane and Lilibet into the fold - and we could be the cast of that stupid Seven Brides for Seven Brothers movie from the fifties. Next thing you know, all us men will be lined up like chorus girls singing them corny songs like ‘Goin Courtin’ or ‘Lonesome Polecat’.”

At Libby’s face, the brothers who could see her – drew back as far as they could. She was about to let it fly. And here it came, “I don’t think you need to worry about going courtin, Mr. Aron McCoy - but ‘lonesome polecat’ will definitely describe your sleeping arrangements for the foreseeable future.” Libby was beautiful, pregnant and not amused. And the expression on Aron’s face when he realized she had overheard his joking diatribe was priceless. Isaac had never seen his brother crawfish so fast before.

He got up quickly and even though he was a foot taller and over a hundred pounds heavier than his fiance’ – she clearly had the upper hand. Isaac could tell she wasn’t really mad – peeved maybe. But she wanted Aron to think she was mad. In fact, when Aron looked around for moral support from his brothers, Libby gave them all a soft wink to diffuse the situation. It wasn’t often they got the best of Aron, and when they did – the family needed to take advantage. “Now Libilicious, you know I want to marry you more than anything else in the world.” He was reaching for her, but she kept backing up – staying just out of reach.

“That’s not what I just heard, Aron.” She pooched her little mouth out sexily, and Isaac realized that he and the others were getting a first hand look at feminine wiles in action. “You dread our wedding don’t you?”

“No, no – hell no,” Aron was stalking her, slowly. “You know that making you mine is my highest priority.”

“Are you sure? I mean, we could postpone it, and the ceremony won’t even go to waste. Jacob can’t wait to marry Jessie.” Libby looked over at Jacob for confirmation. “Isn’t that right, Jacob?”

Jacob jumped right in. “Sure can’t– the sooner I get my ring on her finger, the better. I intend to tie the knot before little Bowie Travis makes an appearance.”

Libby moved around Aron to talk to Jacob. “All we would have to do is cancel one of the cakes and order a few less flowers. The guest list wouldn’t even have to be changed. We’ll call the Reverend . . . . .” She didn’t get to finish the sentence before Aron had swept her off her feet and up into his arms in the traditional ‘over the threshold’ position.

“Now wait a goldarn minute – both of you.” He stared at his brothers like it was all their fault, then he looked back at the woman in his arms. “It doesn’t matter how frou-frou the ceremony or how many monkey-suits I have to wear, I wouldn’t trade marrying you for the deed to the whole damn universe.” And he kissed her hard in front of God and everybody and marched out of the room with his precious burden.

The other three sat there and then looked at one another – Jacob laughed first. “Maybe the ole polecat won’t be as lonesome as we first feared.”

“No, I think he made amends for his macho carry-on,” Isaac couldn’t help but be jealous of what Aron and Libby shared. He needed his brand of sex, but it kept him from having the woman of his heart – and that reality was eating him alive. He would change if he could, but he didn’t know if that was possible. Frankly, he was sick and tired of trying to be something other than what he was.

“Where’s Skye?” Noah asked out of the blue.

“She’s upstairs with Jessie, they’ll be down in a minute. Jessie’s showing her the nursery you put together for her.” Isaac watched Noah’s face and knew he was remembering the trouble he had caused Jessie and Jacob. His interference had almost cost Jessie her life and the nursery had been his way to try and make amends.

“What was Aron talking about when he said Ms. Trahan was afraid of the Warrior?” Isaac knew the big bull was as gentle as a lamb.

Jacob sat up, drained his beer bottle and smiled. “It was funny. Now – ya’ll know that bull. We’ve hand-fed and brushed him since he was knee-high to a grasshopper.”

“He loves to be brushed with a curry comb. We’ve spoiled that old monster, but he sure does sire damn fine calves. As far as Beefmaster bulls go, he’s top-notch.” Noah commented, but Isaac was amused to see that he kept one eye on the staircase. The boy was besotted!

“I love to watch him when he sees Jessie or Libby come to the gate with some nuggets in their hand. He runs at them like a freight train. When we have visitors, they can’t be still when he comes a runnin, they dance in their shoes, thinking that big ole’ bull is gonna run ‘em down. But he always skids to a stop – nose to nose – with those sweet little girls. Why, I’d trust him to let Jessie ride on his back, if she was a mind to.” Jacob took the remote and turned the sound down on the TV.

“So where does Ms. Trahan come into play?” Isaac knew Jacob could spend hours telling a story if you didn’t aim him in the right direction.

“She came to buy a few straws of War’s semen and she wanted to take a look at him. So I took her over to his pasture, and told her to walk down to the pond where he was standing underneath one of the big oaks. He looked like a king surveying his domain. She was impressed, but decided to get up close and personal with him.”

Isaac started laughing; he could see where this was going. “What did he do, decide to come and meet her and give her a proper escort?”

“Yea, I guess she was expecting him to just stand there like some statue, but he’s polite – he didn’t want to make her walk all that way by herself. Besides, she might be packing a few nuggets for all he knew. He was willing to give her a chance.”

“Lord, what happened next? Are we in jeopardy of a lawsuit?”

Isaac slapped Noah on the back of the head. “Down Donald Trump, this is just a funny story. Nobody’s suing anybody.”

Jacob snorted – “Actually, we’re lucky Ms. Mabel didn’t have a heart attack. She loves to play the rancher’s wife, but she don’t know a hill-a-beans about animals. Anyway, when she saw Red Warrior begin to mosey toward her – she got nervous and turned to come back to the gate. She picked up her pace a little and so did War, after all – he thought they might be playing a game.”

“I just love the way you read this bull’s mind. But, then again, you are the Bull Whisperer of central Texas. When do you think Skye and Jessie are gonna come down? Do you think I ought to go up and check on them?”

“Why don’t you do that, Romeo?” Isaac watched Noah struggle with staying or going – he decided to stay. “Do you want to play the ‘ball’ game with Skye?” He held the buckeyes out to tempt him.”

“Hell no,” Noah groused. “I can’t lie with a straight face like you can.”

“Can I get back to my story?” Jacob patiently waiting, and when they settled down he resumed. “Anyway, when little Ms. Trahan realized that War was moving toward her, she panicked and started to run. Well, War figured if she was running – maybe something was after them both – so he might oughta run too. So the faster she ran, the faster the bull ran and when I heard her screaming, she was tearing across the pasture waving her arms in the air, saying “Save me! Save me!” Jacob was waving his arms mimicking Ms. Trahan and Noah and Isaac were cracking up.

“What happened next, or should I guess?” Isaac could just see War running with that big dick of his swaying in the breeze.

“I wish I had had a camera, it would have won us a million dollars on one of them funny video shows. War never caught up with her, plus he kept looking back over his shoulder to see what booger-man was after him. And by the time Ms Trahan had reached the safety of the gate – and Lord, in heaven – don’t repeat this at the bar. But she had tinkled on herself, I looked down and there were drops of pee falling in the dirt and running down her leg.” They were all laughing, Jacob hardest of all. “And do you know what War did? He let it fly, too. I guess you could say they scared the piss out of each other.”

“What did you do?” Isaac couldn’t begin to imagine – Jacob had more couth than he did.

“What do you think I did? I pretended not to see a thing.” There was movement on the stairs, so Jacob winded his tale up. “I finally got her to pet him and see that he’s just a big old baby and she bought twenty thousand dollars’ worth of little swimmers.”

“Here they come,” Noah announced his mind clearly not on War’s pee party.

Jessie came first and Jacob lit up like a Christmas tree. Isaac felt a tug at his heart, seeing his brothers so happy meant a lot. Jessie was gorgeous and her tummy was as round as a basketball. His older brother pulled her down in his lap and started rubbing the place where their baby lay. The child wasn’t Jacob’s biological child – but neither he nor any of the family cared one iota. She had come to Jacob – pregnant, thinking that the surrogate baby she carried was his. A mix-up at the sperm bank had been the best thing that ever happened to Jacob. But the baby would be a McCoy – a well loved McCoy – through and through.

Then Isaac saw Skye, and he saw Noah watching Skye, and it was a sight to behold. She was slender and elegant with long dark hair and the biggest doe eyes he had ever seen. He didn’t really blame his brother, Skye was beautiful. It was a good thing he didn’t have feelings for her or a new family feud might be in the offing. All right, show-time. “Sky, you sure did get a good deer yesterday. That buck dressed out at a hundred and a quarter. I saved the antlers for you – and I saved something else, if you want them.” He held his hand out – palm up – with those two round buck-eyes lying in the center.

She looked at him, suspiciously, her bright black eyes shining with banked amusement. Perhaps, Miss Skye wasn’t a typical city girl. She held out her hand. “May I hold them?” He gave them to her and she rolled them between thumb and forefingers. “These are very nice, but they don’t belong to my deer. I dressed him myself and put the aforementioned delicacy in the stew I’m preparing for your supper. These balls are a little small for my deer. Have you felt between your legs to see if you’re missing anything?”

Well, hell. Noah and Jacob literally bellowed their laughter and Isaac bowed his head, hiding his own smirk. Skye was nobody’s fool. Jessie jumped up and took Skye by the hand and they began planning dessert for the evening meal. All of a sudden, Isaac didn’t feel that hungry for stew.

“I’m in love,” Noah whispered under his breath. “Yep, I’m in love.” Isaac was glad, because the farther Noah stayed away from Harper – the better they all would be.

THANKS FOR READING

SABLE

Interview with Romance Cover Model Jason Aaron Baca

2012-04-03T21:57:00.000-07:00

Hey Readers,

Today I've got romance cover model Jason Aaron Baca visiting my blog. I had the pleasure of interviewing Jason for this post and learned a lot about him, and a bit about how this whole cover model thing works as well. So, if you ever wanted to know something about the guys that pose for romance novel covers, this interview will most likely be an eye opener!

Psssttt..... Jason will be giving away a signed photograph to one lucky commenter, so comment today! I'll pick a winner using Random.org on Monday April 8, 2012. :-)

1. Please tell readers a bit about yourself.

Sure, well I am a Bay Area Native.. Grew up in a town called Los Gatos, CA. I played baseball in high school and college. I later became a double in movies which is where I got my first modeling gig while on location for the movie I Know What You Did Last Summer. After 10 or so years of modeling I found out about romance novels and how I fit perfectly into the mold. Currently there are more then 84 covers out there.

2. Please share with readers some of the things you like to do when not modeling.

I love to travel to calm, quiet places. Places where there won't be any disturbances or trouble. Places include Hawaii,Bahamas, and any Tropical place that has bright blue waters that I can dip my feet into without freezing them off. Besides the traveling, I do enjoy fitness a great deal and can often be found in a health club.

3. How did you get your start as a model?

As a romance novel model it took a lot of determination and follow ups on my part to get these guys to want to use me. I went an entire year where I'd just promoted myself to the publishers offering them select photos of me from past shoots that they could use for cover art. Then after that promotional period came the shoots. I was contacted short after by a Graphic artist that needed a specific type of pose of me.. She wasn't too far off from where I lived either so she shot me at her studio.

4. What made you decide that you wanted to model for romance book covers?

I get this question a lot.. It was fitting for me. It was something that I found out about as I was in a Barnes & Noble one day. I had looked at one of the romance novels and saw one of the cover guys. I felt I had him beat. I wanted to be him and was anxious to find out how to become one of them.

5. What is your favorite romance cover so far that has been done with you?

I would have to say "The Legend Of Michael" by Lisa Renee Jones.

6. If someone wanted to use one of your photos for a romance book cover, where would they go to purchase a photo?

What they'd do is go to this site where it has my stock (or photos that didn't get used for a cover.) They can purchase them from the site directly - http://www.theauthorsredroom.com/cover-model-jason-baca-bares-it-all/

7. What do you like the best about posing for shots that will be used on romance book covers?

I enjoy every aspect about it. It is the greatest feeling in the world knowing that when I go pump up at the gym, I am doing it for a romance novel. I love working out in the gym, so can you believe how much I am in heaven? I get the satisfaction of working out, then I get the feeling of going to the studio and posing for you guys. It's very rewarding to my ego that is for sure.

8. What do you least like about posing for these shots?

I can't say I don't like a particular part of this. Sure it can be difficult to say no to certain foods that taste and smell just right but then I imagine how much more delicious to my palet it will be once I land that big cover so I don't mind saying no to tasty things. BUT I feel compelled to mention, when I do take my time off (which I sometimes do) I will reach for a Mr.Goodbar or Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I can't help myself and if the companies that made those knew of my cravings for them, they bring them to my house by the truck load.. Why I'd be in debt to them for life!

9. If you could change one thing about your journey to being a model, what would it be, and why that one thing?

I would have figured all of this out earlier in life! I look back often and say "Why didn't I get going on this stuff before?" I confused myself with ordinary ideas. I'd listen to unsuccessful models ideas on how to be a top model. I should have only listened to the best in the business or just my own ideas.

10. Do you have any advice for aspiring cover models?

Yes I do. If you are really serious about this then do one thing every day toward your goal. It could be as little as sending out an email or as big as arranging 5 photo shoots for next week. Whatever it is, stay in your tunnel vision and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.. There will be low moments when you are down and feel nothing will ever go your way then there are those other moments you love.. the moment you see yourself on the cover of a big novel displayed when you first enter a bookstore.

11. If a publisher wanted to book you to do a shoot for them, how would they go about it?

All they'd do is contact my management and organize it with them. Here is the link to do so -

http://www.hmmodels.com/model.asp?modelID=395

Thanks for visiting with us today, Jason. :-)

Excerpt #1 for No Place to Run by Regina Paul

2012-03-17T12:41:00.003-07:00

Chapter One

Lin Chen stared out at the ever-increasing blizzard wondering where she could possibly find shelter in this flat, treeless land. Snow was almost unheard of in her native Taiwan, although she could remember seeing a snow flurry or two when visiting her relatives in the mountains, but that was years ago, and nothing like what she was seeing now.

Everything around her was covered in a white blanket, and strong winds were catching what was falling from the sky and blowing it at an angle, giving the appearance of a curtain at an open window being blown to the side to give the occasional glimpse of what was outside it.

I have to find shelter. Ancestors, I need shelter. Please help me find some. The words were whispered only in the quiet of her mind, but she knew from past experience once she thought the words, help would come.

Lin slowed her car to a crawl trying to see through the blowing snow if there was a house, a business, anywhere that she might ask for shelter. Suddenly the wheel wrenched sharply to the right, causing the car’s back end to fishtail for a second on the icy road before she again regained control. Were those lights?

Creeping forward, her foot barely touching the gas pedal, not even knowing if she was on a road, although it seemed to be one, Lin moved closer and closer to what she was now convinced were lights.

Finally a sign with rotating, round lights came into view. “Prairie Knights Casino and Resort,” Lin read out loud to herself and sighed with relief. She had seen a sign advertising this casino earlier, and she knew from what it said that it was run by one of the local American Indian tribes.

Lin pushed strands of long inky black hair out of the way and carefully pulled into the parking lot. Visibility was still just about nil, but because of the storm, the lot wasn't that full, and she was able to find a parking space near the front door once she located it.

She switched off the ignition and shivered. I’m thousands of miles from home. There is no way he can find me, she thought to herself, but she was well aware that her ex-husband was looking for her. Her cousin had left a voice mail on her cell phone telling her he had visited their small village looking for her. But I was already long gone by that time.

Lin tightened the belt on her stylish coat and pulled the collar up so that it curled around her lower face. She dropped the keys into her purse and reached for the door handle, turning it, then shoving the door open.

A blast of icy wind hit her square in the face, and she pulled the collar tighter around her face, shut the door, and set the alarm before heading for the glass doors she could see several feet ahead of her. The heels of her boots slid on the slick surface of the snow-covered asphalt, and she would have fallen down if a strong hand hadn’t gripped her elbow.

“Easy there,” a mellow voice murmured.

Lin startled, nearly knocking them both off balance again when she heard a male voice speaking to her. Fear coated the blood that ran through her veins. Although she knew that not all men were violent, five years with an abuser, a man she had thought she could trust, had changed her. It took everything she had not to jerk away from the gentle grasp.

As though sensing her fear, the man let go and moved back. “Are you all right, miss?” he asked, and Lin realized she’d been standing there trembling in his grasp for a moment longer than she had realized.

“I am fine. Thank you for your assistance.” Her voice wobbled with the stilted words as she bowed her head slightly in his direction. English had never been easy for her, but she was glad now that her grandfather had insisted that she learn it. She could not even imagine the nightmare of trying to traverse America with no understanding of the language. Most Americans, while they seemed pleasant enough, sometimes didn’t have any patience for those who did not speak or understand their language.

“You’re welcome,” the man replied easily.

When Lin finally looked up at her rescuer, all she could see were two eyes, as black as onyx, framed by silky black lashes, staring out from the hood of his dark blue ski parka. He had a scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face, and he’d tucked his hands into his pockets.

“Let’s go inside where it’s warm,” he finally said after letting her look her fill.

Lin nodded and began heading in the direction of the lights again, the man shortening the strides of his long legs to match hers. He just wants to make sure I don’t fall, she told herself nervously.

The man was tall and big-boned, she could tell. Her head wouldn’t even reach his shoulder were she to stand close to him. A cold chill raced down her spine as she thought of how easy it would be for such a large man to hurt a woman. She would have no chance against him if he were to decide he wanted something from her she was unwilling to give. Unconsciously she began walking faster, putting as much distance between them as she could. Before she could even reach the door, waves of heat flashed through her body, and her chest tightened to the point that it felt as though she couldn’t breathe. Her thoughts became a jumble, and she realized belatedly that the meeting with the stranger had triggered a panic attack. Seeing a bench, Lin sat down and closed her eyes and began breathing deeply and slowly, in and out. Bai is not here. The man that helped me is not Bai. In all likelihood he is a good man. Bai was sick, insane, and he’s not here now. Just keep breathing, and you’ll be fine.

The man’s scent tickled her nose, and she lifted her head to find those black eyes level with hers. The man had crouched down in front of her. “You’re safe here. The one you’re running from won’t find you, I promise.”

Lin felt her eyes widen at the man’s words. “How . . . ?” she started to say before shutting her mouth so hard, her teeth clacked loudly.

“Your grandfather is a tall, slender man with gray hair that he wears longer than most people, other than your own, are comfortable with. He has blue eyes that are the color of lapis, and he’s missing a tooth on the far left front side. You can see the hole where it was when he smiles.”

Lin’s breath caught at the accurate description. There was only one way this man could know what her grandfather looked like.

“You are like him,” she whispered, astounded at her seemingly good luck.

The man simply shrugged, then tugged the scarf down so that she could see his whole face. Brown lips with a tinge of pink stretched wide over even white teeth in a gentle smile. “Ready to go inside now?”

“Yes. It is cold out here.” Lin shivered and then stood up quickly as the man lifted to his tall height and stepped back from her as though understanding that if he crowded her, he could trigger another attack.

Even as the words left her lips, suspicion crowded her brain. What if Bai has already been here and talked to this man? What if it’s a trick? What if he told him what Grandfather looks like?

The only thing that kept her moving was concentrating on her breathing. If she could remember to breathe, she could think her way out of this dilemma she found herself in.

The man held the door for her, waiting patiently, and Lin nervously stepped past him. It’s a public place. He won’t try anything here. The casino was nearly empty. Only a few hardcore gamblers sat at some of the slot machines, feeding coins in and hoping for that big win. Most of them were Indians, but there were a few fair-skinned people sitting at machines. The card tables were deserted, as was the roulette wheel.

“Hey, Kyle! Good to see you, man!” someone called out to her rescuer, and Lin flinched at the loud voice, belatedly coming back to reality.

“Hey, Bobby. How’s it going?” The two men bumped fists, and at the gesture, Lin began carefully sidling away, their exuberance making her nervous. Dread began to coat her belly like spoiled food. Though their talk and body language suggested they were friends, she had seen her ex-husband behave in such ways with his friends as well. Their jovial behavior did not mean they would not turn on her at any second.

Lin took two more steps backwards and was beginning to turn, completely prepared to get lost in what little crowd there was, her eyes instinctively seeking the exit signs and overlooking the restroom signs, knowing from past experience they would not stop someone bent on harming her.

She heard the whispered words, “Who’s the babe, Kyle?” Her eyes widened in terror, and her breath came hard and fast. Just as she would have turned to run, Kyle’s next words stopped her.

“Knock it off, Bobby. Can’t you see she’s terrified?” At the harsh words, some semblance of sanity returned, and Lin struggled to calm her breathing again. She pulled the tatters of her dignity around her like a shroud and asked quietly, “Is there a restaurant or some other place that I can wait for the storm to end?”

“Sure, just go through there.” Kyle pointed at a hallway. “It’s on your left. They have wonderful tea,” he added quietly.

Lin nodded. “Thank you, Kyle,” she said in softly accented English before turning to go. She could really use a cup of tea about now.

New Newsletter!

2012-01-01T22:39:00.001-08:00

I just sent out a new newsletter! It's been several months since I've been able to do this, so I'm really stoked about finally having done so. I hated not being able to really interact with my readers over the last months and so it felt really good to have something fun to offer them. If you've enjoyed my free reads then you're in for a real treat! I've decided to make The Keepers of Eternity, the first book in my series The Keepers a free read. Just add your e-mail address into the Regina's Universe newsletter subscriber box to the right and then go and look in the The Keepers of Eternity folder in the Files section of my group; you'll find the first installment there. Enjoy! :-)

Just Checking In...

2011-10-29T22:05:00.000-07:00

I've been out of the loop for a while now, even my newsletter has gone fallow for several few months. I'm sure many of my fans have wondered about that. I've been quiet as to all the reasons for these things for the most part. Some of it is I'm trying to do more writing so I have more to offer in 2012, but there have been a whole host of other reasons as well. In 2010 I had to go back to working a day job because my husband lost his job and the unemployment finally ran out. It was just not enough to support two people, couple that with several of my freelance writing clients going under in the bad economy, getting booted from e-how when they decided to start booting writers, and you get the picture pretty quickly. Couple all that with two deaths recently, and my getting another cold, and it seems like sometimes it rains when it pours, and that's the way I've been feeling lately. Going back to a day job was a bit of a shock to my system as well, and while I've adjusted I don't have as much time as I'd like to write and promote. Hopefully, this trend of mine will change in 2012 with more new books, and getting back to having my newsletter be monthly again. I'd even like to have a few free stories for fans! That's the goal anyway.

So, that's what's been up with me and my life. Because I've been feeling overwhelmed with trying to have time to write and still manage my life and my day job I'm working on fitting in small blocks of writing time. Hopefully that will help me to get Doomed to Be Charmed done and available sometime in early 2012. Then I can start tackling the other WIP's in the same fashion. That's the plan anyway.

I still love hearing from readers and if you've read Alien Deceptions, Homecoming, A Gift From Home or any of my other stories, I'd love to hear what you thought. E-mail me anytime at tiwatz@yahoo.com or feel free to post a comment.

5 Stars from Joyfully Reviewed for Alien Deceptions!

2011-08-29T13:27:00.000-07:00

Imagine my delighted surprise last week when I was surfing Amazon and discovered a new review from Joyfully Reviewed! As you all can imagine I'm doing the happy dance like nobody's business. LOL
Anyway, thought I would share since I felt like this reviewer totally got the story line and everything I was trying to convey with this story. As an author I really strive to make sure my story lines are clear, and easy to understand, so when someone obviously gets it, that really makes me happy!

Here's the review for Alien Deceptions from Joyfully Reviewed Thanks Miranda!:

Angel Whitedove had been abducted by aliens. She has been a victim continually since she was three years old. Angel differs from other abductees' because she can remember every little thing the alien's subjected her to. As a teenager, she was abducted with her family, but that time they kept her parents and returned her alone. Now, she runs across the country never staying in one place too long, fearing they are going to find her again. Along the way she helps other abduction victims any way she can.

Darek is from the planet Larindon. He has traveled to Earth to find Laren, a criminal from his planet. In his search, Darek finds more than anticipated. It seems Laren created a family on Earth, breaking their non-interference laws, an unforgivable transgression. All half-breeds are to be put to death immediately by Larindon laws. There's only one problem, Darek can't seem to bring himself to kill the stunning Angel Whitedove.

Darek decides to use Angel to find her father but in doing so finds himself drawn to Angel. Angel provokes every protective instinct in his body, and when he discovers she has been a victim of the evil aliens that terrorized his planet for years, he is determined to protect her. Angel may not be so eager to accept his help when she discovers he is also an alien. However, she may not have a choice when they are attacked. These two will go on an interplanetary journey, incite a civil war, and race to save what they hold dear.

Alien Deceptions is an exciting thrill a minute adventure. Everything is very intense; you can feel the tension in the characters. It brings the seriousness to the forefront immediately. Angel and Darek have plenty of sexual chemistry, but they also have depth. Their two worlds are so very different and everything is life and death, yet these two wade through the complications to discover something beautiful between them. Angel is such a strong character; this is one of the many things I love about her, she is determined to kick butt even though horrific things keep happening. Angel is a fighter who never gives up. Darek's struggle with the societal laws that have been bred into him since birth is palpable.

Alien Deceptions features tons of cool gadgets for the geek inside us all. Regina Paul has created an impressive world in Alien Deceptions. I loved how the story started on Earth and then shifted to Larindon. The characters were all unique and exciting. Angel and Darek's love may be the center of Alien Deceptions but the societies are mesmerizing. I hope that Ms. Paul has a sequel planned because I would love to hear more about Angel, Darek and friends.

Miranda
Reviewed for Joyfully Reviewed

The Amazing Difference Between Two Reviewers...

2011-08-07T13:17:00.000-07:00

I got a bad review for A Gift From Home today, and while that sometimes makes me feel bad, this time is of course no exception, it also just cemented something for me. I knew this of course being a reviewer myself, but this particular review kind of drove it home; Reviews are personal opinions. A bad review doesn't mean you're a terrible writer, or that you wrote a bad book, it just means that someone else had an opinion about your book that was less than stellar. Incidentally I decided I could either get mad, or I could treat the reviewer much better than she treated me and my poor book. I wrote her a thank you note and posted it on Amazon in the comments so she would be sure to see it. What I wrote is the truth, all reviews whether good or bad help me to grow as a writer. Did it hurt to read her review, sure it did, but I refuse to return the favor and treat her the same way. After all she doesn't know me, and unlike another reviewer who gave my book a stellar review she didn't get the point of the story. And that's okay.

A Gift From Home is my first f/f romance, and I'm coming to realize something else. There are some in mainstream society that seem to consider f/f romance and sexual practices as pornography. I'm relatively certain that if this story had been about a man and a woman or maybe even two men that the review would have come out completely differently. There seems to something in the mainstream psyche that says, "Oh, two girls getting it on=porn!" Never mind that said two girls are in love, never mind that there are bad guys and a mystery to be solved, there are 4 love scenes and those make the book just dirty porn according to the reviewer on Amazon, with no plot to speak of. I suspect that some of the problem stems from some men's fascination with watching two women together. Obviously something tripped in this reviewer's mind, and I hit a nerve, which makes me wonder why she purchased the book, if f/f gay sex was offensive to her.

Here's what two different reviewers say about A Gift From Home:

Kathryn Walters (Rev. K)said:

Girl gets on bus, picked up by old school friend she doesn't recognize. Friend takes her home, declares her love, asks to have "her cherry popped" and suddenly becomes a sex machine. Meanwhile mother is arranging a forced marriage of her lesbian daughter to her employers son in exchange for a half share in his business... seriously??? Poorly written, no story line, nothing more than crude sex romp with no finese - no I'm not a prude and love a good sex scene when written well and has some context - this has none of that. Don't waste your money.

Now here's what Cherokee said at Coffee Time Romance:

Melanie never felt wanted or loved growing up. Her mother used verbal abuse every chance to make Melanie feel she was inadequate in every way, until Melanie could take no more.

Loraleigh is a PI hired to locate Melanie. She had no idea the sinister plans that lay ahead for Melanie, nor the deep emotion the two women would grow to care for each other.

It has been two years since Melanie’s mother, Magnolia, practically sent her packing, never wanting her back home again. Melanie is surprised to receive a bus ticket with a note saying, I’m sorry,’ just before Thanksgiving. Reluctantly, she returns home, hoping that her mother is ready to make amends and accept her for her lifestyle. Melanie never expected to meet Loraleigh, a girl from her past. The girls immediately hit it off, but Magnolia is still determined to change Melanie and make her find love with a man instead of a woman. When Magnolia puts her plan into action, will Melanie be able to stand up to her mother this time, or has her mother finally gotten her wish?

A Gift From Home is a page-turner. Magnolia’s actions were intense and definitely portrayed her character to the hilt. I found Melanie to have a secret strength inside that was dying to come out. With Loraleigh’s help, I believe she was able to conquer the challenges set before her. Ms. Paul instills a dynamite story about finding the right love, while forging through all the obstacles that life throws in our way. With incredible compelling characters, and canvassing Melanie, with a depth of emotions, and expressions to shower every page, this story power punches. There is a tenderness to the storyline that could really reach out and grab the heart.

Cherokee
Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance & More

See the difference? One reviewer got the point of the story, and the actual story line, and the other didn't. Like I mentioned before, it's merely a matter of personal opinion. Incidentally, I've actually bought books that have gotten bad reviews, they always make me wonder if they're as bad as the reviewer said, about 90% of the time they're not.

My main reason for posting this was that I read on another writer's blog about how upset she was that she got a bad review and I think as someone who has 14 books published it helps for another author to kind of show that it's not all bad. I wish I could remember the author, but hopefully she'll see this post.

And all you authors out there, feel free to post comments about your own experiences with reviewers.

Have You Ever Been Accused of Writing Porn?

2011-07-25T11:10:00.000-07:00

I write erotic romance, and quite frankly I don't make any bones about the fact. I'm not ashamed of it. I don't necessarily advertise it at work, but if someone asks me, I have no problem telling them what I write.

Now that being said, I occasionally run into people, co-workers, beta-readers, and others who have accused me of just writing "porn" or "smut." Sometimes trying to explain that there is a difference between writing erotic romance which has a plot, and dialogue, as well as, relationships, and porn which usually has none of the above is difficult.

I had a difficult experience not long ago where I had sent one of my beta-readers a copy of A Gift From Home, which was my first F/F romance, so I was already nervous about how it would be received. I don't believe this person read more than a chapter or two before they wrote me saying they couldn't finish it because it was porn and just nothing but sex. Since there are only four sex scenes in an almost 100 page story, you can imagine my surprise at having it labeled, "porn." To say I was upset, and even a bit angry would be the truth. I now have a clause in my beta-reader's contract saying they must read the entire book before giving any feedback. There is also a clause saying that the reader accepts that there will be different kinds of books including ones with m/m, f/f and menage scenes, or scenarios. This is so potential beta-readers know what they are getting themselves into and so I don't have this happen again.

Have you ever been accused of writing porn? What did you do? I ended up simply responding kindly to the beta-reader but deciding that I needed to re-write my beta-reader contract. Honestly, I'm reluctant to send this person any other books, because quite frankly it stung having something I worked so hard on described this way.

I'd love to hear from other authors about how they've handled it when someone called what they write pornography.

Website Update

2011-07-19T11:56:00.000-07:00

I recently discovered that my website host 110mb has not been making my author's website available most of the time. It was down a sum total of 7 times last week, and today I can't even log into my account, and while the website opens, most of the pages are not accessible. This used to be a good website host, but since they were purchased by new owners about a year ago they have steadily gone downhill in service.

That being said, I have moved my author's website and combined it with my blog. Please bear with me as I move all the information from there to here. I promise it will be worth the wait!

Destiny's Decisions Chapter Three...

2010-08-07T12:56:00.000-07:00

Chapter Three
Dawn was talking on the phone, smiling with a mouth full of perfect white teeth and winding one blue black curl around the index finger of her right hand when they walked in. Tiana resisted the urge to roll her eyes when the teen started giggling, and said, “David, stop being naughty, my boss just walked in!”
James stood looking sternly at the young woman. “Dawn.” He said, warning in his voice.
Another giggle, then, “Gotta go, see you tonight!” Then Dawn hung up the phone and batted long false eyelashes at James.
“What did I say about personal calls during working hours?” James reminded her. Unlike her father, brothers and every other red-blooded male who came into contact with her, James didn’t give in just because Dawn used her wiles on him.
“Sorry boss.” Dawn shrugged apologetically. “My boyfriend called me, I didn’t call him. I’ll tell him not call during office hours anymore.”
“See that you do. What if a client had called? And what about those contracts I gave you yesterday that needed to be typed?”
“We have call waiting.” Dawn said smugly. “And I finished typing the contracts last night, they’re in your inbox.”
“That’s beside the point.” James said, pointing a stern finger.
“Ah, c’mon Uncle James, can’t you cut me a break?”
When James raised an one eyebrow without answering, Dawn turned to Tiana, “Aunt Tiana?” She said beseechingly.
“Hey don’t look at me,” Tiana held up both hands, “I went to bat for you when you wanted this job, and you agreed to the conditions.”
“We women have to stick together though, right, Aunt Tiana?”
Resisting the eye roll was getting really hard. She liked Dawn, okay to be honest, she adored Dawn. The title of Uncle and Aunt were honorary rather than because of any blood ties either of them had to the girl, and Tiana really hadn’t known much about her until she and James had become engaged since she was the daughter of a friend of James’. And adoring the girl, and letting the girl know she was adored, which would be akin to waving a hunk of bloody meat at a shark, were two very different things. “Sorry kiddo, you’re on your own on this one.”
Dawn gave her look suggesting Tiana had somehow betrayed her and then huffed and starting pouting.
Tiana sidled up to James and gave him a toothy grin, “Still sure you want to have kids?” She asked. “They might turn out like Dawn.” She whispered too low for the sixteen year old to hear.
Tiana felt James shudder for just a second before he mumbled, “That’s dirty pool.”
“Yeah, well, just thought I’d remind you, they don’t stay babies forever. And you’ve seen how Michael has to darned near literally beat the boys off with a stick.”
“I’ve got just the stick for you, baby. Want me to beat you with it?” James said wickedly.
Black lashes lowered, and Tiana’s breath flowed out in a rush as heat seeped from deep within. “You’ve got a one track mind, and I repeat, I am not having sex with you in your office!” She hissed louder than she meant to.
“Oooooooohhhhh! Kinky!” Dawn commented.
Tiana turned three shades of red before she got her embarrassment under control. “And that young lady was not meant for your ears.” Tiana pointed out, using the same “magic finger” that James had to make his point earlier.
Dawn had the grace to look ashamed, “Sorry Aunt Tiana.”
Doe brown eyes peeked from beneath sooty lashes before she cooed, “Sorry about before Uncle James.”
Tiana felt more than heard James sigh. “Just don’t let it happen again, Dawn. I’d rather have you manning the front desk than some stranger, but there are plenty of young women who would kill to have a cushy job where all they had to do was answer phones, type the occasional contract and surf the net for five or six hours a day and make more than minimum wage.”
“So, Aunt Tiana is your gallery okay?” Dawn quickly changed the subject.
With the mention of the destroyed gallery Tiana’s spirits plummeted once again and her shoulders slumped.
“The gallery was vandalized last night or early this morning, Dawn. There’s not much left but pottery dust, broken glass and loose seed beads.” James answered for her.
Dawn’s jaw dropped. “Really? That’s awful. I’m sorry Aunt Tiana, is there anything I can do to help? I could come over after work and help you clean up?”
And therein was why Tiana adored the teenager, even if she did often make her crazy with the vapid, blonde act, and open flirting with James. Underneath it all was very caring young woman.
“Thanks, but they probably won’t let me near the place until tomorrow. Let’s wait and see. If I need help with the cleanup you’ll be the first to know.” Tiana tried to smile, but it wobbled and turned upside down instead.
“Okay. I really am sorry Aunt Tiana, I know how much you love your gallery.”
“Yes, but they’re just things, thank God no one got hurt this time.” She choked on the word “hurt” as she remembered that someone had more than gotten “hurt” the last time; they’d gotten dead.
***
James watched concerned as Tiana tried to deal with the emotional fallout of realizing that there was still someone out there who could do her and her loved ones harm. Just watching her made his chest feel tight and his heart hurt. He had to protect her and those around them from whoever this was before someone else died.
He squeezed Tiana’s shoulders and turned them towards an empty office before shutting the door and pulling her close to his body as though his heat could somehow chase the memories away. “Why don’t you make those calls we were talking about? We do have a wedding to plan after all.” He murmured in her ear, hoping to take her mind of the unpleasantness of both the past and the present.
“Yeah, good idea. Not like there’s anything else I can do right now is there.” Tiana muttered sourly, her mood still dark.
“I thought you were excited about planning the wedding?”
Tiana turned, causing James to drop his hands from her shoulders and looked up at him with big brown eyes. “I didn’t mean it that way.” She said softly.
“Didn’t you?” He laid his hands back on her shoulders. “Tiana, I don’t expect you to hide your darker emotions from me, I want you to share them with me, that’s what I’m here for. Just don’t expect me to allow you to wallow in them, that’s not healthy for you or our relationship.”
“I know.” Tiana sighed, dropping her chin until it rested on her chest. “It was just seeing the gallery destroyed, it reminded me of when grandmother died. I was really hoping that all of it was over and that we could have our wedding and work on being happy; regain what we lost.”
James lifted her chin and found a tear winding down her face. Leaning down he sipped it from her cheekbone. “It’ll be all right babe, we’ll figure this out, get your gallery back up and running and have our wedding. I don’t intend that this bozo whoever he or she is is going to get the chance to ruin our lives for a second a time.”
He felt Tiana lean into him, her arms going around his waist and he held her tightly in return resting his head against hers. “We’ll figure it out, babe.” He repeated, hoping like hell that they could before someone else was hurt or died. He didn’t want the memory of a day that should be the happiest of their lives shrouded in grief as their reunion had been.
Then in typical Tiana fashion she pulled away from him and straightened her shoulders. “Okay, I’m going to make those calls. We still need to work out the flowers, the location, and I still have to work on convincing your mother that I want to make my own wedding dress.” James smiled as she ended the last part on a groan.
“She just wants to help you pick out one of those white fluffy confections with a gorgeous long veil.”
“I know. But I don’t want some Soyap version of a wedding, I’m willing to let her have her way on some things, but not the dress, and not having a traditional Nez Perce ceremony once we have the legal one she wants. You’d think she would understand, she is Nez Perce after all isn’t she?” Tiana yanked on her own hair pulling hard, and James couldn’t help laughing.
Once he’d gotten his mirth under control, he answered. “Yes, but you have to remember that when she was a child it was back before The Indian Child Welfare Act and she was taken from her family and put into foster care with white families away from the reservation. She finally returned when she was eighteen, but by the then she’d been very influenced by the dominant culture. She respects Nez Perce culture and traditions and she’s proud to be Nez Perce, but…” James shrugged. “sometimes she can’t help wanting to do things the way she was taught. And she was taught that weddings entailed a long white dress with a veil and in front of a minister in a church.”
“Yeah, I get that, but I just wish she wouldn’t stop trying to change my mind. I’m making my own wedding dress and it’s going to be yellow as is traditional!” James could hear the determination in her voice and couldn’t help smiling.
“I never thought otherwise, babe. And for what it’s worth I agree with you and so does Dad.”
“Good then the next time she tries to show me another dress that she put on hold for me to look at, you and Dad can help me tell her no.” James held up his hands in surrender when he saw the evil glint in Tiana’s eyes.
“Now babe, I didn’t say anything about Dad and I getting involved, I was just saying that we agreed with you.”
“Chicken!”
“Yes, you’re absolutely right, we are chicken! Have you ever seen my mother when she gets an idea in her head?” James threw up his hands, no way was he going to get into the middle of this one! “There’s no stopping her!”
“So…you and Dad agree with me, but you expect me to handle your mother when she’s being stubborn?” James turned at the sickeningly sweet tone. Uh oh.
Better start back pedaling, otherwise he was going to get himself into a world of trouble. Me and my big mouth! Dad is not going to appreciate me for this one. “Uh, not exactly…she’s just…well hell, you’ve seen her!”
“Yes, I have. And that’s exactly why when she brings this up again, you are going to be right there with me back me up, right?” James stared down at Tiana as she poked one short-nailed index finger into his chest to punctuate each word.
“Uh…” Ah, hell! How did I get myself into this?
“Right?” The feral smile did not bode well for him if he didn’t agree.
James let a defeated sigh leave him, “Right.” Behind his back he crossed his fingers. I’ll just have to make sure I’m nowhere around when Mom brings it up again.
“Don’t think I don’t know you have fingers crossed behind your back.” When Tiana’s eyes narrowed with the words, James felt his own round wide in astonishment. How the hell does she do that?
Time for a distraction! James grabbed her, pulled her close and slanted his mouth over hers. He knew his ploy had worked when her lips softened beneath his and parted allowing her breath to flow into his mouth. He deepened the kiss allowing his tongue to stroke hers causing his cock to begin to harden. It never did take much to get his motor going where she was concerned.
James heard the doorknob turn. Crap! That kid has terrible timing.
He lifted his head without turning towards Dawn. “What is it, Dawn?”
“Oopss..sorry Uncle James, but there’s a client on the phone and she’s insisting that she will only talk to you.”
“I’ll be right there. Please close the door behind you.” He fought to keep his voice even, but the teenager must’ve realized she should have called the phone in the office and withdrew without another word.
He lifted his hands and stroked Tiana’s cheekbones with his thumbs helping to bring her back to the here and now.
“One of these days, I’m going to really lose my temper with that girl; her timing sucks!” Tiana growled words that were identical to what he himself was thinking.
“I know. Shall we pick this up later tonight, seeing as how you won’t have sex with me in my office?” He teased, and then listened to Tiana growl before she shoved him away from her.
“One lousy time, just one and now you’re never going to let me live it down are you?” A Tiana with her hands propped on her hips was very attractive. James couldn’t help smiling down at her, teasing her was such fun!
“Nope, besides, I might just convince you to do it again at some point!” He ended on a seductive whisper.
“Not a chance, hot shot!”
James just grinned and pointing at the telephone said, “Make your calls babe, I have to go and talk to a client.”

Copyright (c) 2010 by Regina Paul. All Rights Reserved.

Destiny's Decisions Chapter Two...

2010-08-02T22:42:00.000-07:00

James smiled a bit when Tiana pulled away. She still wasn’t completely comfortable with public romantic displays. She seemed to have some idea that their tribe might think less of her and her abilities to do her spiritual work if they saw her being affectionate with her fiancé in public.
“Good lord, what the hell happened here?” Ken said, coming to stand next to James.
“Looks like someone still has it in for Tiana.”
“Yes, I’d say so from the look of things here. Damn. Well, let’s go inside and take a look.” He turned to Tiana. “We’ll need you to come inside and help us catalog everything, tell us what’s missing and so on. Think you can do that?” Ken asked eyeing her with sympathy.
“Yes.” James heard Tiana sigh and then watched as she made a sweeping motion with one hand. “After you. You guys are the experts after all. I wouldn’t want to mess up any evidence by accident.” She said shooting a sour look at James.
James grinned before following Ken into the gallery. He noted that the inside actually looked worse than the outside if that was possible. When something gritted beneath his feet he looked down and found an off white powder. He pulled the latex gloves out of his back pocket and put them back on. He reached down and fingered some of the powder. He brought it up to his nose, except for a slight earthy odor, it had little smell.
“It’s pottery dust.” Tiana’s voice whispered from in front of him, and he looked where she was pointing to a small piece of broken pottery with rust and black coloring on its pale surface.
“Jesus, the perp left just enough small pieces of broken pottery so we would know what we were looking at.” Ken commented.
Mixed in with the pottery powder and shards on the floor were slivers and shards of broken glass from Tiana’s display cases.
James dusted off his hands and followed Tiana over to one of the destroyed display cases. Inside lay what had been intricate pieces of beadwork, five belts and what looked like some peyote stitched chokers, and earrings as well. Someone had pulled or cut the beadwork from the leather and destroyed most of the patterns on the belts and the chokers leaving small glass seed beads to litter the bottom of the display case. Nothing was left of the earrings but their hooks and loose beads.
“All that beautiful work destroyed.” Tiana murmured her voice tight with grief.
“This has personal vendetta written all over it.” Ken said, coming to stand next to them, holding what was left of a piece of blue and green quillwork. “The perp had a harder time with the quillwork, some of it like this piece still has parts attached to the leather.” He gestured to the piece he was holding.
“Quillwork is harder to destroy because it is sewn on very tightly and the quills are longer than seed beads.” Tiana said dully.
“All right Tiana, I’m assuming you have a listing and pictures of what was here?” Ken asked a minute later.
“Yes, I keep both on me at all times after what happened last year. I didn’t want to take a chance if another incident happened of the proof of what was here also getting destroyed or stolen.” Tiana went to pull it from her purse and realized she didn’t have it with her. “Hang on a sec, I’ve got to go and get my purse out of the truck.” She turned and walked back through the doorway where her front door was hanging.
Glass crunched beneath her boots as she walked back to her truck. The door on the driver’s side was exactly as she had left it, and she pulled it open and relief poured through her when she saw her purse and cell phone sitting on the seat where she had left them. Reaching in she grabbed both and then locked the truck. She might live on the rez and, in a rural area but that didn’t mean that thefts didn’t happen. It was always better to err on the side of caution and keep things locked up. She had friends that thought nothing of leaving their front doors and vehicle doors unlocked at night, but she had never been one to push her luck.
As she walked back into the gallery she pulled the listing for her gallery and the small photo album that she kept there at all times and handed both to Ken. “Here you go.”
“So do you think anything is missing?”
Tiana shook her head taking another look around the room and its destruction. “I honestly don’t know.” She finally answered. “So much is destroyed beyond recognition that there’s no way to know for certain.”
Ken nodded. “That’s what I figured, but I was kind of hoping you had it all in your head and would be able to tell.”
“Nope, whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. They did such a good job of destroying everything I’ll probably never know for sure if anything was actually taken.”
“Okay. We’ll you’ve reported it and I’m going to take some photographs and if you don’t mind I’ll keep this list and the pictures until I can copy them and we’ll go from there.” Ken said, still shaking his head.
“How long do you think you’ll need them? I’m sure my insurance company is going to want to see them.” Tiana said wearily.
“Just a day or so. As soon as I can get back to the office I’ll have one of our clerical staff copy everything and get it all back to you.”
“That’ll work.” Tiana circled her head a few times trying to dispel the stiffness in her neck.
She watched blindly as Ken went to his car and got a digital camera and began snapping pictures of what was left of her gallery. Strong brown hands landed on her shoulders pulling her back against James’ larger body. “It’ll be okay.” He whispered in her ear.
The old Tiana would have just shrugged him off and walked away, but the new Tiana leaned into his heat and allowed it to support her. “I hope you’re right, because I am really really getting tired of this.”
“I know sweetie. Believe me I’m not exactly enamored of having to deal with this again. I was hoping that with Starla in jail the rest would just go away.” He sighed. “Logically though I knew it couldn’t be over there were too many loose ends. We both knew there were others involved and that there was the chance that at some point something else was going to happen.”
“I know, but I was really hoping. I mean after a year with nothing happening I just kept hoping whoever the others were had left the rez and took their violence elsewhere. Not very healer-like of me was it?” Tiana ended on a whisper.
James rubbed her shoulders giving comfort where he could. “You’re only human Tiana, being a healer doesn’t make you any less so. It doesn’t make those thoughts or feelings go away, it just makes you more aware of the right and wrong of such feelings and thoughts, more so than the rest of us.”
“Yeah, I guess.” She turned and rubbed her cheek against his chest before pulling away and squaring her shoulders.
“Hey Ken, when can I start cleaning this mess up?” She asked turning towards the man who was still snapping pictures.
“As soon as I can get a team in here to see if we can find anything I suppose. Once the techs have gotten what they can then you can come in and clean up. I don’t really think we’re going to find much, but…” Ken shrugged. “we’ll see if we can find something.”
James reached inside his pocket and withdrew the plastic bag with the earring. “Tiana found this outside on the sidewalk. It might be nothing, but who knews it could belong to the perp.”
Ken took the bag and held it up to the light. “Pretty.” He commented before tucking it into his own pocket. “Okay, I think I have enough photographs. Tiana you should just go home and relax, work on the wedding or something. It’s going to be a while before you or your insurance adjuster can do anything. I’ll call you as soon as the coast is clear.”
“Call me too.” James called as Ken waved in acknowledgement before getting into his patrol car.
“I think you should come to the office with me.” James stated. “I don’t like the idea of you being at the house all day brooding about this. At least there you can sit in one of the empty offices and work on our wedding and I’ll be there if you need me.” He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows at her.
“I am not having sex with you in your office.” Tiana said baldly. “Besides what the hell am I supposed to after I make the oh, let’s see two or three phone calls I need to make that are wedding related, chat with Dawn of the little brain?” She smiled vacuously with blank bright eyes, imitating the teenager’s bubbly but airhead personality, and always happy but blank expression. “Besides she’s got a thing for you.” She ended sourly, “And I really do not enjoy listening to a conversation where the universe is run by James Waters who do anything and everything including walking on water.”
James tried not to laugh and was unsuccessful. “Now that’s just mean.” He croaked out. “She’s a great receptionist and very bright and positive which is what we need to help get new clients.”
“I don’t care if she is one of us, I swear there’s a blonde in there somewhere!” Tiana muttered, before she burst out laughing with James. “Sorry, but you should have heard her the last time we had a conversation.” Tiana rolled her eyes. “I swear the way she went on, you’d have thought your mother was the virgin, and you were Christ reincarnated.”
“Well I have to say it’s nice to be a God.” James said with a straight face and twinkling eyes.
Tiana shoved his shoulder hard and then pointed one finger at him. “Don’t you start!”
“So you coming to the office with me?”
“Yeah, I can make my calls from there. I don’t really want to be at the house alone right now anyway I’ll just keep thinking about this mess.” She gestured towards the destroyed gallery.
“Good then we can have sex in my office!” James whispered in her ear.
Tiana smacked his shoulder hard. “Will you stop it? I am not, I repeat I am not having sex in your office with Dawn just outside the door!”
“Well that certainly didn’t stop you two weeks ago.” James reminded her with a wide grin.
“Oh, shut up!”

Copyright (c) 2010 by Regina Paul. All Rights Reserved.

Destiny's Decisions Chapter One...

2010-07-17T21:45:00.000-07:00

Chapter One

“Tiana pulled her new truck up to the front of her gallery, and just sat there as she felt herself get first hot and then cold. After a few seconds she leaned her head against the steering wheel. Damn.
She sat there for several minutes just controlling her breathing and then pulled her cell phone out of her purse. It rang once before being picked up.
“Waters Investigative Agency.” A perky voice answered. Tiana nearly rolled her eyes, she liked the teenager that James had hired to be the receptionist for his Kamiah office, but still it was eight o’clock in the morning and she’d only had one cup of coffee so far.
“Hi Dawn, this is Tiana. Can I speak to James, please.”
“Oh, hi Tiana. Sure, he just walked in a few minutes ago, I’ll transfer you.”
Powwow music played on the line briefly and then the reassuring sound of her intended’s voice came across the line.
“Hi babe, what’s up?”
“Honestly, I wish I wasn’t.” Tiana knew her voice sounded odd, but with seeing the terrible vision in front of her she just couldn’t work anything else into it.
“What’s wrong?”What isn’t?”
“Honey, what’s happened? You sound like you did when your grandmother was in the hospital.”
“Yeah, well this is almost as bad.”
“Where are you?”
“My gallery.” Tiana sighed and then rubbed her eyes tiredly with her other hand. “It’s toast, James.”
She heard a thump, and then James’ breath accelerated. “Someone burned it down?”
“No, but they might as well have. The front window is busted out, the door is hanging on one hinge, and from what I can see through the window, any and all stock I had is completely destroyed. Anything that was breakable is smashed. I can’t see the glass case that I locked the beadwork in but it’s probably been destroyed as well.”
“Stay right there. Don’t get out of your truck, you are in your truck right?”
“Of course.”
“Stay there, and lock yourself in. Whoever did this could still be around, and I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“I know that James, I’m not a complete idiot.” Tiana growled.
“Sorry babe, can’t help it. I just found you again, and I have no intention of losing you the way we did Grandmother. Have you called the police yet?”
At the mention of her grandmother’s death the year before, Tiana’s heart clenched tightly before she took a deep breath and released the tension.
“You’re kidding right? After what happened last year, I think it’s going to be a long time before I trust a tribal cop again.” Tiana’s voice turned sour.
Tiana heard James take a deep breath. “Tiana, you can’t blame what happened with Starla on the entire tribal police force. Most of them are good people, she was just one bad apple in the barrel.”
“Want to bet?” Tiana muttered beneath her breath. No way was she trusting anyone but James from now on. He might not be a cop, but she would trust him with her life. He would never betray her, she knew that with complete certainty.
“Tiana.” James’ voice wasn’t scolding precisely, but it got his point across none the less.
“Yeah, yeah. I know, one bad apple in the barrel. I still trust you more than I’ll ever trust a tribal cop again. Call them if you want to, but I’m not going to.”
“Well now, if that’s not a declaration of love, I don’t know what is. Be still my beating heart.” James teased, a mechanism he frequently applied when worried.
“Yeah, well it might be another year before you hear it again, babe.” Tiana emphasized the last word, teasing him right back.
“Is that a challenge?”
“Nah, just stating a fact.” She replied nonchalantly.
Tiana heard an engine start up. “I’m on my way, just stay put. I’m going to hang up for a minute so I can call the tribal police, but then I’m calling you right back.”
“Thanks.” Tiana smiled. James was getting into what she called, his “fed mode.” It was cute really, unless it was annoying, which unfortunately most of the time it was.
“Love you.” Tiana’s heart melted.
“Love you too. Hurry up!”
Tiana closed her flip phone and set it on the seat within easy reach while she studied the destroyed remains of her gallery. Thank God they didn’t torch it or something. At least this appears to just be a clean up job.
Still she knew it was going to be one hell of a clean up job. Her insurance company would handle the destruction of the stock, and probably the building itself, but the gallery would be out of commission for a month at least from the look of it. She was going to have to have the front windows, and door replaced. She couldn’t see the back of the shop but she new in all likelihood the perpetrator had got to the service entrance door as well.
Glass littered the sidewalk in front of the gallery. The sunlight caught something in the glass and flashed gold. What could that be?
The temptation to get out of the truck and go dig through the glass was strong. It’s probably nothing.
But what if it was something? What if it was a clue? There wasn’t much foot traffic this time of morning, but it was possible someone could come along and pick it up, or step on it and crush it.
Tiana put her hand on the door handle. James is going to kill me. Twisted the handle and pushed the door open. She carefully shut the door not closing it all the way in case she needed to get back in the truck in a hurry.
She stepped up on the sidewalk and when she felt shards of glass crunch under her feet, she inwardly sighed with relief that she was wearing the boots James had bought her for her birthday. Their soles were tough enough that the glass wouldn’t tear them up, and also wouldn’t poke through to her tender feet.
Tiana bent over trying to get a closer look at the object when she heard a throat clear. She winced. She would know that sound anywhere.
“I thought I told you to stay in the truck, Tiana.”
“Yeah, well I saw something in the glass here.” She pointed to the item and the sunlight caught it again.
“I see it. Here.” James handed her a small plastic baggie and gave her a chiding look. “You know better than to tamper with evidence.” He scolded.
Tiana rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t going to pick it up, James.”
“Okay, but you know that even you walking in the glass here could destroy a clue to who did this, right?” James pulled on a pair of latex gloves and then bent down and carefully picked up the item, holding it up so Tiana could see it.
Tiana stepped closer to James. “It’s a gold earring.” She said, disappointed. “I thought maybe it was a clue, but someone probably just dropped it before the gallery was vandalized.”
James tsked. “Not necessarily, the perpetrator could have been wearing this earring and it fell out when he or she was doing the vandalizing.”
“I suppose so, but what are the chances of us finding the owner of this earring. It’s not like a woman is going to walk around with one earring in.”
“It could also be a guy. You know it’s not that uncommon, even here on the rez for a guy to have an earring.”
“Maybe, but that one looks more like something a woman would wear.”
“Perhaps, but look at this.”
Tiana bent closer to see what James was pointing at without touching the earring. “What is that?”
“It looks like a small eagle feather engraved in a circle to me.” James replied.
“Yeah, I think you’re right. But all that really proves is that it probably belongs to an Indian. But even that’s not certain, there are non-Indians that follow our ways.”
“True. Okay, open up that baggie for me, and I’ll drop this in so we don’t contaminate any evidence.”
“Did you call the tribal police?”
“Yes. Ken is on his way.”
“Good. I’m relatively certain he wasn’t in on what happened last year with Starla. Do you suppose this is connected to that? I mean could they still be after, you know?” Tiana glanced around to make sure no one was around. She still felt skittish after Starla’s betrayal.
James stripped off the latex gloves and stuffed them into his back pocket before grasping Tiana’s shoulders and pulling her close.
“I don’t know sweetheart. Maybe. Starla refused to talk after she went to jail for her attempt on your life even when she was offered a lighter sentence if she would talk, so we never did find out what was really going on with her or anyone who was working with her. Plus we were never able to nail her on grandmother, there just wasn’t enough evidence.”
Tiana held onto James. “I know I’m not supposed to, but…I hate her!” She declared vehemently.
James stroked her back, and pressed a kiss into her hair. “You’re only human babe, she probably had something to do with your grandmother’s death, she may have even murdered her. You have every right to hate her.”
“But I’m a healer, and a pipe carrier. I’m supposed to be above such things. I’m supposed to be able to forgive her, but I just can’t.” She ended, her voice tearful.
“It may come in time, honey. But even if it doesn’t, I doubt the Spirits are going to blame you for your feelings.”
A horn honked and Tiana stepped away surreptitiously wiping a tear away. She knew she had a right to her feelings, but she still sometimes felt less than worthy to be a pipe carrier and healer, and worried that her feelings might somehow affect her ability to perform her spiritual work.

Copyright (c) 2010 by Regina Paul. All Rights Reserved.