It’s amazing….
Sometimes, out of nowhere, a beautiful thing can happen. And even while so much around you is distressing, this ray of hope reminds you that things will be ok.
The goal of every writer is to be published. But I’ve been working on some of the same books for so long, I got lost in the writing of it. I wanted to perfect it, I wanted it to resonate. A few contests later and I kind of forgot what I was trying to do, almost losing the joy of it all. But, with planning carefully in place, a seed I planted long ago has borne fruit. (just goes to show to be nice and have a good presence. It works in both real life and on the web.)
I have excellent news coming my way, and my careful and sporadic ways are definitely going to prove valid.
Stay tuned!
Romance Writers’ Conference, at home. Diva-style.
Not forking out the dough for the RWA Conference this year, with evening wear, suits, high heels and whatever “business casual” means?
Not to worry! Romance Divas is hosting the
Not Going to Conference Conference…
The Conference You Don’t Have to Get Out of Bed For!
From July 28-31, come hang out with some terrific, savvy authors — and you don’t even have to brush your teeth (although, seriously, good dental hygiene gets you extra points.)
We’ll be hosting panels on:
The Power of Three: A crit group tell-all (Paranormal)
The Lolitas of STEAMED! Present Writing the Steampunk Romance -more than leather corsets and brass goggles!
Whips, Chains, Slings, Oh My: It Really Isn’t About the Toys (BDSM Erotica)
The Great Big YA Panel
Register for free at Romance Divas, then come join us on the forums for the discussions, as well as some terrific prizes:
Eden Bradley/Eve Berlin:
1) erotic e-books, THE SEEKING KISS and TEMPT ME TWICE.
2) a synopsis critique in any sub-genre of erotica/erotic romance.
Jax Cassidy:
1) erotic e-books, DEVIL’S HEART and BRUSH STROKES.
2) book cover design or banner ad
Kristen Painter:
copy of her e-book, ALL FIRED UP
Rhonda Stapleton:
1) STUPID CUPID YA Book trilogy
2) a proposal critique (1st 3 chapters and synopsis) for any genre of book, romance or not
K.B. Alan:
1) The choice of one of her e-books: PERFECT FORMATION, ALPHA TURNED or BOUND BY SUNLIGHT.
2) A $25 Barnes and Noble gift card.
Robin L. Rotham: Signed copies of BIG TEMPTATION, ALIEN OVERNIGHT, and ENEMY OVERNIGHT
AJ Chase: copies of e-book CAT AND MOUSE
Inez Kelley:
1) e-book package of both MYLA BY MOONLIGHT and SALOME AT SUNRISE
2) The complete Dirty Laundry Series (3 e-novellas) co-written by Ginny Glass aka Wordsugar and Inez Kelley
Kate Pearce:
1) a three chapter ~and~ synopsis critique-any erotic romance, paranormal romance or historical romance.
2) Winners choice, in either print or e-book format (if available), of a set of the Simply series (there are 5) ~or~ a set of the Cowboys (there are 3) ~or~ a copy of KISS OF THE ROSE-readers choice.
R.G. Alexander:
Winners choice of any two e-books from her Samhain or Ellora’s Cave back list
Nadia Lee:
Critique of 1st chapter & synopsis-paranormal or contemporary romance
Shelley Munro: Winners choice of any one her backlist books from Ellora’s Cave or Cerridwen Press
Ciar Cullen: Winner’s choice of any one e-book on her website.
Voirey Linger: A copy of her e-book RISKING ETERNITY
RF Long:
1) a submission package critique (letter, synopsis and 3 chapters)
2) e-books! (details TBA)
Crystal Jordan:
1) 1st chapter and synopsis critique
2) One copy of any e-book off her Samhain backlist (http://samhainpublis…/crystal-jordan)
3) One copy of IN THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT (print or electronic, winner’s choice)
Jeannie Lin:
1) a first chapter critique, any genre
2) an official BUTTERFLY SWORDS souvenir charm
Elise Logan: Winner’s choice of any e-book from her backlist
Marguerite Labbe:
1) A critique of an m/m story
2) Signed copies of her m/m vampire trilogy MY HEART IS WITHIN YOU, HAUNTED BY YOUR SOUL and OUR SACRED BALANCE
Seeley DeBorn:
One jar of home made body or face scrub, customized to the winner’s preferences and skin type.
For example: Orange Spice Oatmeal, Coffee-Cocoa, Citrus Salt, Lavender Mint, Honey and Flax
Sela Carsen: a copy of her e-book CAROLINA WOLF
Hailey Edwards:
1) a copy of her sweet fantasy romance ebook, EVERLONG.
2) two five dollar MBaM gift cards
Charlotte McClain:
Copy of her two e-books, LOVE TO DECLARE and ROCK STAR’S RETREAT
Cynthia Justlin: (Golden Heart Finalist!) Proposal Critique (3 Chapters and synopsis)-any genre other than erotic
Lainey Bancroft:
1) signed copies of her contemporary romance, THE TROUBLE WITH TESSA and her chick lit romance COZUMEL KARMA
2) Proposal critique (3 chapters and a synopsis) any genre except Steampunk
Tina Burns-Publisher-Liquid Silver Books:
1) a critique of 1st 3 chapters & synopsis
2) 3 be-book prizes for 3 different winners! Winners choice of any one e-book download from LSB library.
Mima:
Winner’s choice of one e-book from her backlist-see her website for booklist.
Taneasha: handmade jewelry by our own Taneasha-details to come!
Barbara Sheridan:
1) Winners choice of one e-book from her backlist-see her website for booklist.
2) Critique of up to 20 pages of either M/M, or M/F romance or erotic romance in various subgenres (contemporary, historical, paranormal or suspense/mystery)
David Bridger:
A copy of his ebook BEAUTY AND THE BASTARD
Victoria Janssen:
3 print books TBA (whatever she finds at the RWA Conference)
Gemma Halliday:
Signed copy of SCANDAL SHEET
Jennifer Leeland/Jennifer McKenzie:
1) copy of her e-book MARKED FOR PLEASURE (Kindle version available upon request)
2) copy of her e-book MARKED FOR DESIRE (Releasing June 29th) (Kindle version available upon request)
3) copy of her e-books The Command Series (Trilogy)
4)copy of her BDSM e-book series (3 from TWRP and 1 from Samhain)
Emily Ryan-Davis:
1) Critique of novella-length (up to 30k) manuscript; any time period, m/f, menage, f/f (m/m not her area of expertise)
2) signed print copies of her anthology: MATING CALL, DRAGON DANCE and DRAGON BOUND
3) e-book copy of CHANGING THUMBELINA
Sabrina Darby:
1) Signed copy of her erotic historical novel, ON THESE SILKEN SHEETS
2) Critique of first thirty pages of any Regency (erotic or non erotic fine, but m/m outside my area of expertise)
Alina Morgan:
1) copy of her e-book The Twilight Deception
2) copy of her e-book The Shadow Unveiled
Debbie Mumford:
1) Critique of a synopsis
2) Winner’s choice of any e-book from her back list.
Kimberly Troutte:
1) copy of her e-book SOUL STEALER
2) copy of her e-book CATCH ME IN CASTILE
Sasha Devlin:
1 pair of hand made writing mitts or gloves-style and color TBD by the winner
Julia Knight
Winner’s choice of one copy of any of her books available in e-book format
The incomparable David Bridger
BEAUTY AND THE BASTARD by David Bridger releases today from Liquid Silver Books!
Dangerous love in dangerous times…
Saul the Bastard is a fallen angel who works as a bounty hunter for powerful urban demon families. Rebecca Drake, a modern day demon princess, is being hunted by dangerous desert demons. When Rebecca’s family hires Saul to protect her, they are both unhappy with the arrangement, but before long sparks fly as they try to resist their strong mutual attraction. For the first time in living memory, Saul has someone to love; someone he is scared of losing; someone the desert demons have marked to be their next sacrifice.
Beauty and the Bastard
from David Bridger and Liquid Silver Books
More good company
This lady is so dear to my heart. In my circle of friends she’s tops. And within that circle is the author ring of people to whom I look for advice and grounding. She is a very special friend and I am honored to be one of her first fans. Seriously!
I have at least three (maybe four?) of her books, and I could not put them down. She is so clever and witty and smart. (Yeah, I’m being redundant, but these all fit her.)
Folks: I give you, Inez Kelley. Before I give you the blurb, let’s get inside her mind. Now, don’t be scared. I kind of know my way around. Just in case, I will leave some breadcrumbs.
I feel like I’ll be redundant in some of these, I’ll just ask a bunch, you answer what you wish and we’ll go from there.
1. You bring such a depth to your characters with clever wit and charm. Do you save all of this for your writing or is this how you always are?
What you read is what you get. I could possibly be described as a wee bit melodramatic. Or Juvenile, depending on your take. Whatever, I am fun at parties.
2. Compare the stress of your former occupation to the stress of writing. What do you miss most? (didn’t want to mention 911 unless you wanted to…) What could you do without most right now?
I used to say answering life threatening emergencies was nothing compared to raising children. I still stand by that. Writing has pressures and stresses of a different nature. They are more drawn out, longer lasting and I guess gnawing would be the word. There is no quick fix. I can’t hit a button, drop some fire tones and know the good guys are on the way to save the day. Where the heart pounding adrenalin rush of hearing someone plead for help is gone, now I get to craft that and hopefully inspire that reaction in my readers.
3. I had the honor of being among your first readers. That was a tremendous leap of faith. Do you still have that first never-to-be-read manuscript that all writer have hidden somewhere? Any chance of reviving or rewriting it? (note to blog readers, that was not what I first read: Jinxed, and it is awesome! check it out too.)
Oh God. The absolute first, no. But I still remember it well. I do however have the second, third, fourth, etc. And yeah, I may revive a few of those one day. Strangely when I go back and read them, I cringe in many places and am astounded in others. At 12, 13 and 14, there are things captured in those words that show how wide-eyed I was but there is a depth that surprises me. I only wish I had been taken seriously and encouraged when I said I wanted to be a writer.
BTW, JINXED was a rewrite of one of those stories from way back when, not from age 12, but young. It got completely revamped to where it is not recognizable now.
4. Where do you see yourself as a writer in 3 years? 10?
3 years- Churning out stories, sizable backlist, people who crave my books
10 years- Churning out stories, a hell of a backlist, people who crave my books and one kook who got a tattoo based on my work.
5. All writers have to start somewhere. This question is cliche, but has to be asked. What would you tell them? (besides to just BICHOK, or Butt in chair, hands on keyboard.) Because, yeah, you give me swift kicks often. I haven’t forgotten my promise. Just postponed it’s completion….
There is a voice inside that shows you a path. Everybody will try to divert you from it, be it saying “You can’t say it like that”, “that is too far a reach”, “you must follow these steps and pay these dues”, etc. Shut them out. Listen only to the voice inside. Blinders on and barrel forward.
SALOME AT SUNRISE by releases today from Carina Press!
It’s not nice to piss off Mother Nature…
Bryton Haruk sets out on a suicide mission to stop the bloodthirsty Skullmen from terrorizing the war-weary Land of Eldwyn. Consumed by guilt over the death of his wife, Bryton seeks revenge and reunion in the afterlife with his lost love. His purpose is determined, his bravery unmatched, until the queen casts a spell to save Bryton from himself.
Salome is that spell. A bird-shifter, she can harness the earth’s breeze and take the form of a beautiful, innocent woman. Her challenge is to harness Bryton’s pain and guide him to peace. She entrances and irritates him, tempting Bryton from his mission. Even as he gives in to the passion between them, Bryton insists on mounting a solo attack on the brigands’ compound, and Salome fears her love won’t be enough to save him…
Salome at Sunrise from Inez Kelley and Carina Press.
Seize the day.
I’m in good company
One of the perks and pleasures of being an author is getting to know other authors. I’ve had so much support and advice and kinship in this lovely circle of friends. I’ve also become a fan of many of these friends. Of course, before I am an author, I’m a reader. And I’d love this book. Take a gander at my author friend’s book. I’m so thrilled for her.
The inimitable Annie Nicholas:
BLURB:
Someone is about to get some Spice in his life.
Spice has nothing but the clothes on her back when she returns to Chicago. She’s looking for a better life, and that means reuniting with her estranged twin sister, Sugar. She isn’t thrilled to find out Sugar’s boyfriend is a vampire. But then she meets Eric, once the bottle-cap-glasses wearing nerd next door – now grown into the kind of man she’d love to snuggle with on this cold winter night…and he’s offered her his room in Sugar’s house.
Eric can’t believe Spice has returned. He’d given up hope of ever seeing her again, let alone having her stare at him as if he’s sex on a stick. But now that all of his fantasies for them are coming true, reality rears her ugly head and Eric must tell Spice his intimate secret; he’s actually an Alpha werewolf looking for his mate and he thinks he’s found her.
Excerpt:
Sugar had everything Spice wanted; a loving man, friends, and a home.
“Daedalus let you cut your hair?” A short man built like a bodybuilder approached her.
The awe in his voice snapped Spice out of her self-pity and the protector inside reared its head. This was the second reference to someone allowing her little sister to do something. “What do you mean ‘let me’?”
What kind of relationship did Sugar have? She needed permission to cut her hair? Maybe destiny brought her back to Chicago to save her little sister from some monster. Again. All those bad things happening to drive her here couldn’t be coincidental.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Where is my sister, and what are you doing in her house?”
They glanced at each other, confusion apparent on their faces. “What?”
The man in the kitchen stuck his head out of the door, chocolate brown eyes wide as he stared at her. “Spice?” The smile he’d given to her when he thought she was Sugar returned but wider.
Her heart skipped a beat. In the light his face seemed familiar as well. “I know you.”
“You should, we were only neighbors forever as kids.”
“Eric!” He had grown. Stupid, of course he’s changed. But she never expected that the skinny, lanky bottle-cap-glasses-wearing nerd would develop into a charming, handsome I-wanna-snuggle-you-on-a-cold-night kind of man. “Hi.” The jobs as a hostess, a bartender, and the most recent, a stripper taught her how to talk to men the way they liked. But with him grinning at her like a happy puppy, her mind went blank.
He swept her into his arms in a bone-cracking hug.
“Wow, I’d forgotten Sugar had a twin.” The redhead scratched his chin. “You look exactly alike, except your hair is short.”
Eric set her back on her feet. “Let me take your coat.” He tugged on the belt and untied it. To her surprise, the small action sparked warmth between her thighs. Not like he took off her clothes but she began to wonder what it would feel like if he did.
Their eyes met. His pupils dilated, the chocolate brown faded to amber, and something feral peeked at her.
She gasped and stepped back.
The pretty oriental girl took her arm and dragged her into the living room. She chattered about making tea, but Spice’s attention riveted on Eric as he stood with the men surrounding him.
What the heck? She’d seen need in men’s eyes before but this was darker, deeper, and so much more alluring.
The redhead tried to take Eric’s arm, but he shook it off and stomped out of sight.
Spice sat on the overstuffed couch. “What did you say your name was?”
“Katrina.”
A dainty, petite girl with long black hair to her knees, yet she gave Spice the impression of great strength. Life in Vegas taught her to be an excellent judge of character. Too bad it had taken her so long to learn.
“I’ll be back in a minute. You stay while I make tea.” Katrina slipped away to the kitchen.
Every flat surface in the living room held a book. Soft cover, hard cover, tattered, or new, Sugar loved her books. The walls were lined with shelves filled with them. Spice picked up the closest one and smelled it. The scent of paper always reminded her of her twin.
The large, square coffee table in front of her held the game Risk. Different colored pieces lay scattered on the thick blue carpet.
Game night at Sugar’s house. She glanced at the hallway. With Eric. Many questions formulated in her head. What happened to her reclusive sister over the past two years? When did she get friends? Probably when her only one, me, left town. Did she hook up with Eric?
Hope sprung in Spice’s heart. Her attraction to him was out of character. She usually loved them tough and bad. Maybe he could be the new beginning she’d come home for.
Annie Nicholas
I haven’t fallen off the face of the earth
I know my posting is irregular at best, but I wanted to assure any who wondered, that I am doing fine. I have now joined the company of women who are without their uterus. Yeah, this is a personal topic, but I wanted to make fun of my body and how the anatomy can fail you.
Since there were no Ute’s-r-us, and I was finished with it, the decision to have it removed was made much easier. It had to come out. I want to iterate that elective hysterectomy shouldn’t be taken lightly. To have it removed only because having your cycle is annoying is not reason enough to undergo a serious procedure.
Signs you should have a hysterectomy: (facetious)
Your cervix is now an outtie, not an innie.
Your cramps are severe enough to make your toes ache
Your thought regarding intercourse is not do I have time, but do I have time to recover from it?
Your cycle is more unpredictable than the weather channel.
The drugstore cashier no longer raises her eyebrows as you stock up on the weekly supplies of tampons, liners, ibuprofen and chocolate. (BTW, I have tons of supplies I no longer need woohoo!)
I’m sure there are more great lines out there. Give me yours!
The Rocket’s Red Glare
I was so excited to be asked, ok, arm twisted, to participate in the Summer Reading Trail. I hesitated. But, I’m a giver, so for your reading pleasure I would like to give you a taste of my first book of the series. You’ve seen teasers (yeah, so what, I’m a tease. ) But the excerpts I’ve shared before were the chaff. Here’s the wheat. This is what will be kept in the book. That is, until I get an agent/editor who suggest it be changed. Sharing this is so very thrilling for me. Giving of myself in this manner makes me feel vulnerable, yet at the same time, it invigorates me and spurs me on to complete the ambitious and monumental task I have given myself.
“Get back!” The warning sounded just as a cannonball whistled over their heads. The percussion knocked Connor Reid back. A boulder stopped his momentum with painful clarity. Strong spasms racked his chest as each inhalation constricted like a vise around his ribs. Tears pricked his eyes. Connor choked on the already thick swamp air, now filled sulfuric smoke. He held his breath and heard…nothing. He snapped his fingers by his ears but silence resounded.
Chaos surrounded him as he watched fellow militia men clamor to find cover and take aim. A flash of light followed a plume of smoke, soaring towards them. The team’s soundless mouths contorted in fear.
With tentative fingers he probed his scalp. Finding a large knot, he winced. He looked at his hands expecting blood but there was none. I am a sitting duck in this pluff mud. Must…move.
He tried to sit but blackness tunneled his vision. Can’t let the Yankees get me.
He rolled on his side, pushing with his feet and moved along, crawling, half on his belly. He soon found himself behind the boulder. He squeezed his eyes shut, picturing Arthur Delaney. Would he understand? Would he forgive?
A low buzz sounded, muffled shouts resuming. His battle mates retreated. He was alone. His eyes watered from the shifting smoke. Or was it tears? Through the haze, a figure approached. Closer. Was it friend or foe? Connor reached for his musket, but, of course, it was gone. He inched his hand slowly to his boot, hoping the knife hadn’t been lost as well. Just as he reached the handle, the figure loomed over him.
“Boy, stand up.”
Connor, stunned, just shook his head. The man bent forward and large hands hauled him to his feet. The blackness threatened again, his stomach rolled. If you vomit, you’ll look weak. Keep yourself together, Con.
“Aye, you are a lighter lad than I thought. You surely are aged only 15 years, at the most.” Connor could only stare back. The disdain in the man’s voice hardened Connor’s resolve.
“Well, can you speak?”
“I’m nineteen, Redcoat.”
“Sure you are. Silas, John. Take the boy with the other prisoners.”
Connor realized he was captured, but fire stirred within. One of the captor’s hands was within sight, restraining him. He bit, hard. As he was released, he lost his balance but spun around to the right, evading recapture. He brought up his foot, against the other man’s shin.
“Willem, we’ve got a feisty one here.” Their comments about him as if he were not there only heightened his ire.
“Nevermind that. He’s a boy. How much fight can a boy have against two men?” Oh, if they only knew.
Connor’s eyes met the man called Willem and saw a will as strong as his own. The dulled glaze of his men showed nothing.
“I’ll do it myself.” He’ll do what?
Willem bent towards him. Connor reached down for the knife but a sudden hard pressure in his wrist doubled him over in pain. His arm was held in Willem’s firm hand.
“Now you come quietly. We intend no harm.”
Connor struggled to break free, but was no match for Willem’s strength.
“Be still, or suffer the consequences–”
Connor stilled with the threat. It wasn’t just a reprimand. This was war.
“Bring me some rope–”
Connor thrashed, fear spurring him to break away.
“I’m not going to hang you. Come with me.”
Realizing he’d not escape, Connor clenched his jaw. Clarity dawned and he decided to face this like a man. Ha! Like a man.
#
Willem McCotry knew war. He understood the fervor. Not necessarily the cause. They trod out of the swamps. Willem trailed the boy behind him, hands bound, tethered to his waist. He said a silent prayer for whomever the young man was fighting, and leaving behind. Those were the ones hurt the most.
What would make a boy take up arms? Surely he was too naïve to understand the implications of what the colonists called a rebellion. He chanced a look back at the boy. Something else flitted across his young face. Too young. But he also saw the passion still in his eyes. The bright hazel stare became glassy. He looked as if he were about to cry. He wouldn’t harm the child. But he didn’t trust him, either.
At the edge of the King’s Tree, Willem found his horse and tossed his captive into the saddle. There was no room in the wagon where the still forms lay. Before mounting the horse, Willem followed the gaze of the prisoner to the wagon.
Silence. Only the clopping of hooves in the dirt rattled in Willem’s ears. It gave him time to think. About war. About prisoners. About his prisoner. The lad was so unyielding sitting in front of him. Had not slumped even once. Probably trying to be brave. There’s nothing heroic in fighting a losing battle.
Willem trailed the horse behind the cart. The better to instill fear and obedience from the site of the wounded. At least, he hoped they were only wounded. They were still and silent.
Conner stared straight ahead. Why he was on the horse with the one they called Willem, he’d never know. It was a precarious position and not the least bit comfortable. He dared not turn around and face him.
As it was, the heat from him reached through the thin shirt and bindings. Sitting rigid on a moving animal did not lend to comfort. Connor’s tender rump was surely red. He felt every jolt in each vertebra.
But he didn’t dare moan, whine or complain. Wouldn’t give this Redcoat the satisfaction. This redcoat didn’t wear a redcoat. In fact, he was dressed similarly to a farmer.
Hours later, the smell of salt water was a sweet tang in Connor’s nose. That scent was a part of his childhood left behind. He’d know it anywhere. Would he see shopkeepers he’s known? What if they recognized him? The clothing would surely hide his identity. He’d come here often enough with Papa selling rice, but not like this. If only he could keep the secret from his captors. He’d worry about the town later.
“We’re almost there. Son, you are much too young for the prison ship. I am inclined to find your Mama, and pack you up home.”
Connor felt the breath tickle his neck and suppressed a shudder.
“Don’t call me ‘Son,’ and I have no mother.” He silently cursed himself for returning dialog.
“Sorry to hear that, young sir. What shall I call you, then?”
He craned his neck around to look Willem in the eye but all he saw was shoulder. Damned horse.
“Are we becoming acquainted, Whig? I’ll not give you my name.”
“Don’t have to know your name to hang ya, boy.” A gruff voice grumbled from in front of the horse.
Connor turned his head back. The other prisoners looked warily back. Not dead after all. He couldn’t tell who said the hurtful remark.
“No one’s going to the gallows. You may call me Mr. McCotrey.” The squared shoulders stiffened. “Or Willem if you’d like.” Connor sniffed.
“Boy, you are going to talk at some point.” Being called boy in such a manner was galling. Indignation rose in Connor‘s chest. He couldn’t stop himself. He whipped his head around again, surprising Willem, if his widened eyes and fast tug on the reins were any indication. But recomposing himself, all Connor spat out was,
“We’ll see about that.”
Connor slapped his hands over his mouth, he’d been baited. Willem just chuckled. Connor fought the twitch to punch him for laughing. Control yourself, Con.
“Silas, take the others to the ship. I’m going into town for supplies. After that, you two are done for the night.” Connor held his breath listening as Willem instructed his subordinates.
“Where’ll you be, sir?” John or Silas answered. He couldn’t care who was whom.
“The Hangman’s Noose.” Did he hear right? He was growing weary. But Willem seemed to read his mind because the next sensation was like a spider crawling by his ear as Willem whispered, “It’s a tavern, Son.”
The wagon continued to the docks. Connor watched as his friends-well, acquaintances-faded in the distance. None really knew him. He’d made sure of that, being alone as much as possible. Didn’t want to give anyone a chance to find out what he’d done.
“If I take these bindings from your wrists, will you behave?”
Connor only nodded. Behave. Mr. McCotrey really did think he was a child. Hmph.
Willem dismounted, leaving a hand on Connor’s knee. The change in support was both a relief and startling. Connor let out the pent up breath he’d been holding. Then he looked the long way down from the horse and felt dizzy. With little to hold, he began to sway. The knock to his head was harder than he thought.
“Steady there,” then “oomph” as Connor’s momentum propelled him earthward. His back landed with a solid thwack on Willem’s chest.
“Let go of me, you big oaf” Connor squirmed and made an awkward attempt at standing with bound wrists. Willem stood up and pulled his knife from his belt.
“You‘re going to gut me for landing on you? It was an accident, and I am your prisoner. I have rights.”
“Quiet, boy, I’m going to unbind you.” His barking words chafed Connor’s raw nerves.
As Willem removed the coarse rope, Connor tried to still his trembling but the harder the fight to maintain composure, the more tremulous he became.
“Let’s go inside, I’ll make a man of you yet.” Connor mutely followed Willem in.
The change in light made Connor squint. He looked up at his captor. Willem was scanning the room. Seats were available near the back door.
The back door. He dared not breath. Should he even try? A plan formed and Connor knew he might not get another chance.
“The privy?” His voice cracked and he looked down, quickly.
“Aye. I’ll order you a pint. Hurry up.” Connor watched Willem find a seat. With rapid steps Connor moved towards the rear. As he reached the door, he gave one last glance toward McCotrey. Still seated and enjoying his rum.
The air was cool on his face as he reached the privacy of the stall. The door creaked as it opened but it was light. He closed the door and locked it. A latrine never felt so lovely. Could he escape? He took his hat off and hung it on the hook, surprised there was one. Strands of chestnut hair of varying lengths fell to his shoulders. It was uneven and unkempt. Connor swatted at the pieces floating in his eyes.
Not wanting to miss an opportunity, he let down his pants and sat. Then winced. That was a long ride. As he stood to finish his ministrations the door ripped open. Connor rushed to cover himself, but too late.
Connor read the surprise in Willem’s wide eyes. Heat flooded Connor’s face, but covering it would mean removing hands from a more delicate site. Shock froze him in place, so turning to hide was no option.
Willem just stood there. When he didn’t speak Connor finally breathed. The plan had failed. A rational person would have run.
Willem gaped at the boy. Strands of hair framed the young face. Out of its queue, it softened the features. His eyes followed down where slender hands tried to hide the soft curls. What he didn’t see was…well.
This was no boy.
I hope you enjoyed this, please feel free to let me know. And don’t forget to check out the other stories by clicking the link in the first line or this link to the UK Trail Head
To a wonderful woman:
You met a man and fell in love
Two hapless girls in tow
One with stringy hair and too big clothes
The other was too little to know
What a family was or what it’s not
But that you had made it whole.
You filled a space so hard to fill
But within me made it grow
That wasn’t without sacrifice or will
But a heart of gold you bestowed.
This gift of love you gave to him
You more than gave to us
So much of that life is instilled in me
I like who I’ve become.
And none of it would be as such
If you hadn’t been as one
Despite men’s faults and changes of heart
You’re indelibly of my life
I’m better for it as a woman, mother, wife.
Who I am and who I’ll be is
A reflection of who you are
That cannot be taken from me
Nor reduced from your bright star.
I ache for you, I’ll always need you
And miss you with all my heart.
I thank God for you and
His leading you in your path
May He guide us still as we walk this life
And may we honor Him with each pass.
Thank you, Mom, for being you
Better words I cannot express.
Crazy is as crazy does
Remember when it was accepted that homeless who ranted or talked to themselves were probably unstable and that anyone who was suspected of hearing voices would be better left to themselves?
Thank goodness that behavior isn’t as unusual anymore. With the advent of blue tooth (teeth?) People are conversing with entities unseen, but are perfectly sane. (relatively speaking.) Any eccentric can hold both ends of a conversation and just be admired. Well, maybe not admired, but at least looked at with awe. (That could be good or not.)
So it goes for the writers. I hear fake people. Only they’re not fake. They really do exist. Just in my head until I can put them on paper. For example, I was given a major breakthrough with sparkling clarity with the insight of a new character. My Hero has a sister I didn’t know about. Or had. And all that encompassed that relationship introduced a layer to this guy I didn’t see coming. Oh, it was about time, too. I couldn’t understand why he was acting the way he is.
I know I’m not alone in this writers’ world. To prove it, I want to get a shirt that tells everyone so. I’ve picked it from a wonderful selection from Romance Yardsale. This cute little store is of course for writers, by writers. Two of whom I adore.
Bria Quinlan and MG are some of the sweetest, smartest writers I know. They write young adult romance with witty insight and uncanny understanding.
Share your craziness with them. (psst, and help them get to nationals, k?)
Changes
I have titled this entry based on an idea I had as I went to sleep.
I get a lot of ideas at that time. Inconveniently so, as I no longer have room on my bedside table for the necessary pen and notepad. *note to self, reorganize nightstand.*
But, I have only a glimmer of what that idea exactly meant. I do know that currently, I have several things in life going through transitions. Mostly, stressfully.
But I feel good about them. Boss throws me a curve ball, I hit it out of the park. It does make me wonder what she’s gonna throw at me next. Bring it on, baby.
The changes her dictate caused affected not only me, but my family and their routines. I’m still resentful of it, but I plan to make the most of it and use it to my advantage. It’s really more taxing and stressful on my mother in law now, and because of her sacrifice, we’ll be less sturdy financially, but I’m hoping I can supplement the difference in other ways… I digress.
Among the new things in my life is a much needed treatment. I am sort of anxious about it, but in a positive, hurry-up-and-wait kind of thing. A benefit of this, besides improved health, is I hope some quality catch up writing time.
As it is, I’m motivated to move quickly on this book because more books are popping up in my head. I’ve saved the ideas in other files to return to at a later date, but the fact that this is happening is golden! My creativity has been dulled and an alternative choice created the change necessary to rewaken the muse.
So, change is good. It has to be. Otherwise, I’m just lost.