The sounds of an out-of-tune piano drifted from a saloon as Brandon’s men rode down Main Street. A spinster dressed in a prim blue suit saw them coming and rushed into a nearby dry goods store. Safely inside, she peeked out the window.
The cowboys reined in their mounts as a stranger, wearing a star, strolled toward them. “Afternoon, Cody.” Brandon tossed a leg over his horse and slid to the ground. “It’s been awhile,” he said, extending his hand.
“Not long enough, Bran,” the peace officer answered dryly, shaking Brandon’s hand. “You and your boys will be returning to camp tonight won’t you?” Cody Morgan gave Brandon a pointed look.
Their eyes locked.
The foreman laughed. “Now come on, Cody, my boys are better mannered than most. But if that’s the way you want it, that’s the way it will be.”
“That’s the way I want it,” Cody replied coolly.
Brandon raised his voice. “You heard the sheriff. Be back in camp by ten o’clock.” He turned to Cody, ignoring his grumbling crew. “That okay with you?”
Cody nodded absently, his eyes ranging over the men. His gaze sharpened as it came to rest on Alexandria. The sheriff’s eyes traveled slowly from the top of Alexandria’s black Stetson to the tips of her worn boots and then back again and finally rested on her face.
Alexandria felt a flush rise from her throat and travel to her hairline. She was certain Cody Morgan had seen it too. It was almost as if the sheriff could see past the dirt and hat that shadowed half her face to the delicate bone structure hidden below.
The sheriff studied Alexandria’s high cheekbones, startling amber eyes and full mouth. He looked speculatively from Alexandria to Brandon then back again.
He turned to Brandon, his eyes still on Alexandria. “Who’s…” he began, but before he could finish the swinging doors of the Golden Nugget flew wide, bouncing back against the building. Screeching at the top of her lungs, a scantily-dressed blonde threw herself into Brandon’s arms. While the boys watched, she drew his head down and kissed him.
Alexandria hastily averted her eyes. She took a deep breath and relaxed her clenched fists. Why the hell should she care if the boss made a flaming jackass of himself?
Silverhills is a wonderful western that draws a reader into the story with its exciting action, touching romance and spirited characters.
I work at a magazine, and the way these things go, I get a whole lot of junk mail, both email and snail mail. It was the snail mail kind that grabbed my attention a few days ago.
The magazine itself had a title that caught my eye: "EContent," the magazine for "creating, distributing, and managing digital content." The lead feature was about "The True Price of Privacy: What users are willing to exchange for (free) content."
But there was something in the small type that got me. "Today's Vibrant Ebook Market," I read.
Huh. As an ebook author, I had to check it out. Generally, it was an interesting article, with a lot of information I already knew--that ebooks have been around for quite a while, but technology had to catch up. The article goes into how ebooks are available 24 hours a day, no more waiting around for bookstores to open, etc. And what a boon it was for academia, because students didn't have to deal with large, cumbersome tomes, the professors could direct the students to the ebook versions. Yadda yadda yadda.
I know, this is all stuff we know. Ebooks, we are told, with each passing year, are getting to be more and more the thing. "People are expecting more things to be available in digital form. However, as it is when there is anything new, people need to take time to get used to it," the article concludes.
Okay, here's my complaint. WHEN?! WHEN ARE PEOPLE GOING TO GET USED TO IT?!
The April issue of RT magazine gave What's in a Name? a 4 Star review.
an excellent page- turner that will keep readers up into the night. The plot twists are excellently done and keep the suspense at a high level ...Cindy Himler
What they didn't say is that it's available in print as well as e-book. Details on my website.
“Speaking of pretty,” Cody said smoothly, cupping the youth’s chin with one hand and sliding his other arm across Alexandria’s shoulders.
Taken by surprise, Alexandria went rigid. “Don’t…” Alexandria started to say, before Cody’s lips made speech impossible. The kiss seemed to last forever, as Alexandria fought ineffectually to free herself. Reluctantly, Cody released her.
“Why you…you…wolf in sheriff’s clothes,” she sputtered. Drawing back, she doubled her fingers into her palm and swung. “Ouch,” she said, as her fist made contact with Cody’s hard jaw.
“You could have just said no,” Cody said mildly, rubbing his cheek.
“You never gave me a chance,” she said, her teeth clenched.
Cody gave her a wary look. “You are a girl, aren’t you?”
“You’d feel pretty silly if I weren’t,” she shot back.
“So what’s the problem?” He grinned at her lazily.
Alexandria scooted away from him. “The problem is I’m not that kind of girl.”
“You mean you and Wade aren’t…” Cody’s voice trailed off. A squirrel chattered from a few feet away and ran up a tree.
“How many times do I have to tell you?”
“And he really thinks you are a boy?” Cody persisted. Alexandria nodded from a few feet away.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said softly.
“Probably,” Alexandria muttered.
“You did fool Wyatt. I guess a person sees what he expects to see. The perfect illusion,” Cody mused aloud.
“Why didn’t I fool you?” Alex demanded.
“What will you give me if I tell you?” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.
Alexandria glared at him.
Cody raised his hands in mock surrender. “You win. Never let it be said that I forced my attentions on an unwilling cowpuncher,” and laughed out loud at his own humor.
“What gave me away?” Alexandria breathed in his scent of soap and aftershave as he leaned toward her.
“A couple of things. You have a woman’s face,” he said, and with a touch as light as a butterfly’s he ran his index finger down her cheek.
Well, it's been a LONG time coming but I finally updated my entire website! The only thing left to do it take a new picture! LOL Finding the time for that should be a lot of fun! But since my hair is halfway down my back now and back to it's natural dark auburn color instead of that flaming red in the picture, it's time to update that too!
I've changed things around, have a new contest going on and well - just lots of fun things happening. Where should you start? First - check out this new video that I did for Talgorian Prophecy (under my sig line below) and then vote in the poll on my website or on my blog - I'd love to know what you think of it! I've added a book video page so that you can see all of the videos for my titles in one place. The site is finally organized again!
I also have excerpts of all of my books live on the site now. Check them out on the Book Shelf page. The excerpt for Talgorian Prophecy has been called "very intense". I hope you like it!
The next thing to check out is my contest page. A bunch of the Cerridwen Press authors have gotten together to bring readers a HUGE contest. You could win an ebook reader loaded with our titles! I've also decided to get back to blogging. This is going to be a fun blog that lets readers get to know me on a personal and professional basis. I'm going to have guest bloggers so if you'd like to blog on my site just contact me and we'll get it set up. Do you have an article you'd like for me to include on my site? We can arrange that too. I'm also setting up a new author link exchange to bring more traffic to our sites if you want to participate in that too.
I also have a couple of other things in the works that I can't discuss right now because they're not finalized. Keep checking my news page and blog for all the latest details. My home page will be updated but not as frequently as the news page and blog.
So, have a look around. I appreciate your stopping by today. Don't forget that if you join my mailing list you'll get a free download of Briar Mountain, which was previously published in the Writers.net Anthology of prose.
I wrote the essay below a couple of years ago, but this month has been hectic, flying by at breakneck speed, and so filled with hills and valleys that I could quite easily be suffering from whiplash. I started thinking about living life, and how crazy things get at times for not only us as writers, but for many, many people. So, naturally my thoughts drifted back to this article and I suddenly recalled that it's okay to step off the merry-go-round every now and again, to stop the spinning and to take a deep breath...
What is demanded of man is not, as some existential philosophers teach, to endure the meaninglessness of life; but rather to bear his incapacity to grasp its unconditional meaningfulness in rational terms.-Viktor Frankl
Sometimes we all need refuge from the storm life can become. When the dance becomes too much, too strong, or too painful we need a place to hide, lick our wounds and re-group. Somewhere only we know. A sanctuary. An asylum. Webster’s dictionary defines asylum as: an inviolable place of refuge and protection…
That’s what I need sometimes. A place of refuge. Somewhere I feel safe and at peace.
That place can be found in many different forms. It can be found within oneself. Finding that inner peace, that place of refuge within ourselves can be difficult, but it is possible. And once that tool is developed, it’s priceless because no matter where a person is, what they’re doing or the circumstances they’re faced with, they can find that inner sanctuary. It can be found in a wonderful place. A location somewhere that calms and soothes me. A spot that brings the world to a stop. If only for a little while. Just a little while. Long enough to end the twisting and spinning, and let me get my bearings. Long enough for me to remember who I am and what I want and need in this sometimes crazy rollercoaster ride called life. Lastly, asylum can be found with someone else. It can sometimes be found in the arms of another. That sense of coming home, welcome and peace can be discovered through someone else. If only for a little while. Just a little while. It’s wonderful when one finds that. A partner, friend, or lover who is “possible” in the hectic life we all live. A person who keeps the hounds at bay. Who helps you catch your breath. A person you can feel safe with. If only for a little while. Just a little while. Because we all know that asylum isn’t permanent. It’s just a temporary place or state of mind that helps us get through and emerge safely on the other side. It is a stepping stone, albeit also a learning experience, that will one day lead to something else, something better. Asylum is wondrous and magical while it lasts. And it is necessary for our survival and well being. Those who acknowledge and accept that fact will often find their path easier to make. Our life is a journey filled with hills and valleys, good and bad. It’s important to remember that when the road gets a little too rough and bumpy, it’s okay to pull over to the side now and again and reclaim our sanity, our direction, and our heart. If only for a little while. Just a little while.
Until we meet again on March 4 and 18th I hope your days and weeks bring you everything you need.
Best, Eden
Eden Robins Dark, Dangerous and Decadent Happily-Ever-Afters www.edenrobins.com
My new paranormal romantic suspense, Talgorian Prophecy, releases today so I thought I’d share an excerpt with you. But first, here’s the blurb:
Megan Cassidy, a world-renowned psychic seer, must fight a serial killer to save her six-year-old son Robbie. But she can’t do it alone. She needs help from the best tracker and Ranger in West Virginia, her ex-fiancé, Brody Phelps.
In a psychic vision, Megan sees her own death during a battle with the murderer that the police have dubbed The Mountain Mangler. She soon discovers that the Mangler is also psychic and looking for a challenge that the first six victims couldn’t meet.
While Brody and Megan search the mountains for the Mangler and Robbie, Megan is drawn to Talgor Ridge where they are told an unbelievable story from a Talgorian Elder. When they discover their destinies are intertwined with the immortal Talgorians, Brody and Megan must each follow their hearts to fulfill the first Talgorian Prophecy. Acceptance is the only way to save Robbie, and the Talgorians, from total destruction.
EXCERPT - TALGORIAN PROPHECY
“Okay, Megan,” Brody nodded toward the lounge area, “sit down and tell me why you’re here.”
She entered the room. An overstuffed brown couch with two matching chairs, a plank coffee table and end tables added a sense of coziness to the police station. She sat on the couch clutching the purse against her abdomen.
What was Brody thinking? Had he wondered about Robbie’s father? Or what her life was like now? Maybe he felt indifferent about seeing her again. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves.
Brody lowered all six foot two inches of his toned physique into a chair. She let her gaze move over his broad chest and down strong arms as the shirtsleeves tightened around muscles bunching beneath the fabric. A utility belt holding a two-way radio and other items clung to his narrow waist. Man, he sure fills out that Ranger uniform.
Her heartbeat increased watching him settle into the chair. She fought the urge to go to him, bury her head against his neck and let him comfort her. It was all she could do to keep her seat. She wanted to lean on him, to feel his strength protecting her. She hadn’t realized seeing him again would be this difficult.
Years ago he had wanted her love and she’d willingly given it. She remembered the time he’d playfully tickled her at the community barbecue, chasing her into the forest until they’d both tumbled onto the grass and into each other’s arms. The day he’d asked her to marry him had been the happiest of her life, a joy eclipsed only by Robbie’s birth. Brody had been her most trusted confidant until that fateful morning when the accident ripped their world apart.
She’d tried to get over Brody by dating other men but none had compared. She’d even convinced herself she didn’t need a man in her life and Robbie’s love was enough. Now she realized she’d only kidded herself. A love like theirs was rare. For a moment she allowed herself to wish for love again.
Brody watched her.
Instead of the baby-faced teenager who caused her to spin out of control, the man staring at her with such intensity was a stranger. His features were more sculpted and laugh lines creased the outer corners of his eyes. She knew she’d never be able to deny her feelings, even after all this time or the pain she’d experienced when he’d broken her heart. How much had he changed after his parents’ deaths?
She searched for any softness in his eyes, an unclenching of his jaw, anything to indicate he’d forgiven her. She saw nothing to offer even a shred of hope.
Not that she’d expected forgiveness.
“I’m waiting, Megan.”
She stared at Brody and twisted the purse strap. “It started eight months ago. A girl was kidnapped and two weeks later her mother was taken. They found both of them murdered in the Allegheny Mountains about twenty miles north of Clarkston. Two months later, a man and his teenage son disappeared. When, again two months later, a woman and her daughter were abducted, the Clarkston police realized they had a serial killer on their hands. They called in the State Police but neither department is saying much. The victims are always a parent and child, with the parent having some type of psychic ability and the killer cuts an X across their chest and decapitates them.”
“The Mountain Mangler?” Brody crossed his arms over his chest.
“You’ve heard of him?”
“Archer wanted me on the search and rescue team with this case but you know that don’t you? You came back to Flatrock Creek to see me because…”
“Yeah, I knew Archer wanted you on the team.” She rubbed her face with her hands. “Brody, you’re the best Forest Ranger in West Virginia and a trained police officer. You’ve been tracking these mountains your whole life. You know this area better than anyone and have proven it by finding eight missing people. If anyone can find Robbie, it’s you.”
“Have you been keeping tabs on me, Megan?” His eyes narrowed and the muscles in his jaw twitched.
Megan jerked her gaze from him. Heat rose into her cheeks under his scrutiny. She couldn’t admit that was exactly what she’d done. “I saw you on television when you found the Anderson boy in the Allegheny’s.”
She met his stare but his expression remained cold. “You were quite a hero.”
“This is out of my jurisdiction.”
“Not as a Ranger.”
“What does Robbie’s father say about your coming to me?”
“I’m not married so there isn’t anyone else to consider. Please help me.”
Brody stood and paced over to the desk.
Megan waited. She knew better than to pressure him. And because this concerned her, it wouldn’t be anything less than monumental for him to agree.
He turned to face her. Indecision and something else flitted in his eyes. Images from their youth flashed through her mind, the accident, his anger.
Crap. I’m reading him. Megan tried to break the connection by imagining a brick wall between them. It didn’t work. She looked away and thought of the serial killer taking Robbie. Anger took over and broke her psychic link to Brody.
“I’m sorry, Megan.” He frowned. “I’m going out of town tomorrow. I can give you the names of other Rangers who are good trackers. I hope you find your son.”
“What? You must be kidding!” She wouldn’t settle for a Ranger who wasn’t a natural tracker and didn’t have the intuitive ability, instincts and dogged determination that Brody had. “This is unacceptable. Couldn’t you cancel your trip?” Megan rubbed her temple. “You still resent me, don’t you? I did not kill your parents.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“No.” Megan stood. “We will talk about it.”
She moved to stand in front of him, in case he decided to walk out on her—again. “My son’s life is in danger. He may die. What about your promise to Arial? When she was murdered you swore you’d always find a way to help a child in danger.”
“There’s too much in our past. You’ll be better off with someone who doesn’t have our history.”
“I don’t want any other Ranger. I want you. You’re the best. You’ve got an instinct about this sort of thing—intuitiveness—even if you don’t agree. Please, Brody. I haven’t bothered you in all these years. The one time I ask for your professional expertise, not for myself but for my child—how can you refuse?”
“Because I have other commitments. I can recommend Ranger Thompson in Calgory. He’s an excellent tracker.” Brody reached for a pen and wrote something on a notepad. He ripped the page from the pad and held it out to her. “Here’s his number. Tell him I referred you.” He tossed the pen on the desk.
Dark brooding eyes bore into her. “Dammit Brody, Robbie needs you.” Her anger swelled.
Brody turned away. When Detective Archer asked him to work this case it had been a hard decision to choose his cousin’s wedding over work. He’d let her complaints influence him. Now Megan needed him.
He wanted to be there for her, he really did but the risk to his heart was too great. Megan had torn his world apart once. He couldn’t let history repeat itself. Not now, not ever again. “You only want to use me for my tracking skills just like everyone else. You only came to me because I know these mountains. You said so yourself.”
Tracking was his job and he loved it. He didn’t mind being used for work but with Megan it was different. He’d always hoped if he ever saw her again it wouldn’t be work related.
“Brody, there’s something—”
He threw up his hands. “I don’t want to know, Megan. Whatever it is, it won’t influence my decision. For once, why don’t you accept you’ve made a mistake?”
“A mistake?” Megan stared into his eyes as she stepped toward him. So these were his true feelings. “I’m not too proud to admit when I’m wrong. But there’s not a psychic on this planet who is right one hundred percent of the time.”
For a moment he watched her. Megan hoped he was reconsidering his decision. Maybe he’d change his mind and search for Robbie.
“I know you’re under a lot of stress. I’m not going to put myself in a position to be hurt by your visions again.” He took her hand and pressed the piece of paper with the phone number into her palm. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want your sympathy, Brody.” Megan backed toward the door, crushing the paper in her fist. “You told me how you felt seven years ago. I should have believed you. I don’t know why I ever thought you would feel differently now. I’ll handle this situation like every other one in my life—alone.”
Megan jerked the front door open and slammed it behind her. She ran down the steps, fumbling with her keys. They slipped through her fingers, clattering onto the sidewalk. She scooped them up but dropped them again.
Anger boiled in her stomach, mixing with the ever-present fear. Tears clouded her vision. She snatched up the keys. Her heart beat so furiously she thought a heart attack was imminent. She paused to take a deep breath while visualizing her heartbeat decreasing. Once the rapid pounding and her breathing slowed, she continued down the porch.
And stopped dead in her tracks a few feet away from the car.
Her gaze narrowed on the child-sized, blue baseball cap lying on the Mustang’s dashboard. The letters NY were stitched above the brim.
Oh God! Panic tore at her, catching her breath and shattering her. She ran to the driver’s side door and leaned into the car for a better look.
Robbie, in capital letters, was embroidered in white above the adjustable clasp.
The killer’s here!
“Give me my son!” Megan screamed and spun around, looking for him. “Damn it, show yourself, coward! Give Robbie back to me!”
Fear rose along her spine. The Mangler had followed her to Flatrock Creek! It was too soon. This meant his MO had changed. He wasn’t waiting to come after her, which meant he could have already harmed Robbie.
Megan halted her frantic circling. Only a few feet separated the station from the trees. The Mangler must have disappeared into the forest.
She willed herself to slip into a semi-trance and tapped into the psychic part of herself. She stood immobile, allowing her physical vision to go out of focus as she searched the woods behind the buildings across the street psychically, setting her mind free. In her third eye she moved quickly through the trees, watching them speed by in a colorful blur in her peripheral vision while she focused on the clear view directly in front of her. She searched everywhere for any trace of the killer’s darkness or the sight of him fleeing through the forest.
She dropped the invisible wall she kept around her own emotions, making her vulnerable to others’ feelings. She tried to connect with the killer’s emotions. Apprehension and uncertainty immediately enveloped her, jerking her back into the ranger station and Brody. She imagined a wall around him to keep his emotions at bay. She’d deal with him later.
Megan traveled back into the forest, searching for any other negative emotions that might belong to the killer. If he were nearby, she’d be able to sense him.
Nothing! She turned and performed the same search in the forest behind the station. Projecting her mind forward again, she found an eagle feasting on a kill in a clearing, while a rabbit hid beneath a nearby bush—he’d narrowly escaped being the bird’s breakfast. A little farther away, a large black and gold iguana peered at her from the top of a boulder. Her mind sped past the animals but the feeling of being watched caused her to backtrack in her mind’s eye to the iguana’s rock. The odd colored reptile had disappeared. How did an iguana get out of its natural tropical habitat and into the Allegheny Mountains anyway? It probably escaped from the pet owner’s cage. Megan scanned past the rock and further into the forest.
Megan’s frustration melded with fear in her mind. How had the killer disappeared without a trace? At every turn she hit a dead end. It was as if he’d somehow blocked her psychic attempts to find him. She’d sensed this before, from other psychics. She did it herself to keep other psychics from reading her. If the Mangler could block her that meant…
The mental connection severed. She slipped from the semi-trance to full consciousness. Refocusing her vision she examined the cap.
She fought the deep knowing filled with unthinkable possibilities. Was the killer psychic too? Moisture beaded her forehead, her body started to shake. The taste of bile filled her mouth, her stomach pitched and rolled. She pushed the feelings back down. She wouldn’t throw up.
Megan slid down the side of the car and collapsed on the gravel beside the wheel. She covered her face with her hand. It was wet from tears. When did I cry?
The weight of the past hours—worrying about Robbie, arguing with the police and facing Brody had been tough. The Mangler had followed her, changing his MO. The possibility of a psychic killer—it was overwhelming. She grabbed her knees. She couldn’t take anymore. What had she done to deserve such a horrible fate? Pain and loss took control of her emotions. Tears poured down her face. She couldn’t hold back anymore.
“My baby, my poor baby,” she cried, rocking her body like she rocked him to sleep. “Someone, please, anyone! Help me find my son!”
~~~~~~~~~~
I hope you enjoy Talgorian Prophecy as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you'd like to get your own copy you can find it at CerridwenPress.com or on my author page.
A while back, I was thinking about ebooks vs. print books. Right now, ebooks aren't as common as they will be in the future, with the most common thing I hear about them that "I can't read that much on my computer." I can sympathize, because I used to say the same thing, until I realized that since I work on-screen (eliminating the need for unnecessary paper) and edit on-screen (it's quicker and neater than paper), I spend a lot of time with my computer (my sweet little computie!). Once you realize you CAN read on your computer, or any screen, life becomes easier.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, ebooks vs. print books. Anyway, to entice those who may be on the cusp about these matters, a few Cerridwen Press authors decided they were going to make it a little easier for them, especially if they like the challenge of a contest -- a scavenger hunt, really.
Check out the rules and regs over at
http://www.jayellwilson.com/CPContest2008.htm. JL Wilson did a fabulous job of organizing everything, even to offering an amazing grand prize -- ebooks, and a way of reading them. There's going to be one clue a day starting on March 1 for the hunters involved -- that's all.
Check it out. There are prizes galore, and who knows? You might find yourself winning a few books that you're willing to read in a new, unfamiliar format!
Eilis Flynn www.eilisflynn.com, eilisflynn.livejournal.com, eilisflynn.blogspot.com INTRODUCING SONIKA, now on sale at cerridwenpress.com
I love writing romantic suspense, romantic mysteries, romantic fantasies, and paranormal romance.
I’ve even written straight mysteries. Sort of. Even my mysteries still end up with a bit of romance in them.
So, what kind of writer am I? Am I a romance writer who wanders into the mystery, suspense, and fantasy genres? Or am I a mystery writer with a romantic streak?
But all my novels have some element of mystery. If the reader knew what would happen from the very start, they’d never bother to read the book, right? So am I a mystery writer who likes exploring other worlds and favors happy endings?
And every book has elements of fantasy. Even my contemporary mystery and suspense novels are fiction. They may be based on a world I know, but the stories they tell never actually happened. Doesn’t that make them all fantasy?
Does it matter? Only if you want to sell your books.
It matters to editors and agents, to reps and to booksellers. It’s all about ‘slotting’ your novels in the right place, which means making sure they’re put on the right shelves in the bookstore. I wish I could settle down and right in just one genre, or even just one shaded variety of genre. Crossing genre boundaries so often and in so many directions isn’t a great career move.
I'm fortunate that it doesn't matter nearly so much to small presses and epublishers.
I’m just not sure what it would do the creative impulse behind my writing to try to put it in that kind of straitjacket.
Some Cerridwen authors have banded together to promote a great new contest. We're almost ready to officially kick it off, but if you'd like a sneak peak, go to:
Stepping into the conservatory was like stepping into a damp lush rainforest. Tropical plants abounded. Two bright colored parrots sat in a banana tree and a macaw sat on a rubber plant.
As they walked along the pathway, wide green leaves brushed them. Gabby pointed toward an exotic, spotted flower. “What is that?”
“Spider orchid,” Tamara said, grazing it with her fingertips. “Do you like it?”
“No.”
Tamara laughed, unoffended.
In the center of the conservatory was a shrine-like structure made of smooth gray stones.
Gabby’s pace quickened. She didn’t need to be told what she would find at its center. She could feel it. It drew her, like the smell of baking bread would draw a starving child.
“I’ll leave you alone,” Tamara said quietly.
It’s almost as if she understands the hold the globe has over me. Then all coherent thought fled as Gabby approached the globe, the pull growing stronger, more demanding.
Tamara turned and went back in the house.
Gabby walked as if in a trance. The globe, beginning to glow, beckoned her like a lover. She leaned toward it and reached out her hands. It was warm to the touch, comforting.
Gabby closed her eyes, her thoughts centered inward, as she immersed herself in the feel of it. She threw back her head and arched her neck as warmth crept over her like ocean waves lapping at her feet.
Time had no meaning.
In a dreamlike state, Gabby turned as hands on her arms moved her, strong, gentle hands that pressed her against a hard body, a body that molded to hers as if it were made for her. She could smell the clean scent of shampoo and freshly laundered clothes, mingled with the expensive fragrance of a man’s cologne.
“My love,” she breathed, just before cool thin lips closed over hers, causing her awareness of everything else to sift to the back of her mind like smoke. Conscious only of the mindless pleasure filling her as his mouth moved across her own.
She heard his breath catch, before he murmured, “My darling, I could spend eternity wrapped in your arms, watching the sun come up over the ocean,” against her lips, her closed eyelids, her arched neck.
sandracox.blogspot.com
Eternally Yours: What could you spend an eternity doing? What is your passion? Your hunger? Your deepest desire? Each day beginning February 5 and running through February 14 one of the ten authors will complete the line, "My darling I could spend eternity…" on either their blog or website.
Collect all ten answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with Eternally Yours in the subject line to win some hot, romantic books.There will be three lucky Valentine winners.
The prizes
1st prize--5 books
2nd prize--3 books
3rd prize--2 books
Entries must be in by February 16 at midnight EST. All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.List of Authors….Brynn Paulin, Bronwyn Green, Cindy Spencer Pape, Kelly Kirch, Amarinda Jones, Anny Cook, Mona Risk, Sandra Cox, N.J. Walters, and Elyssa Edwards.
Cerridwen Press authors have been posting excerpts from their books at Romance Excerpts Only all week. If you want to see a lot of excerpts all in one place, I'd encourage you to pop over to the group. If you don't already belong (and like me, groan when you add yet another group to your lists), Romance Excerpts Only is not a high-volume group full of chatter. They restrict posts to excerpts -- that's it. No replies are posted, but they're welcome and go straight to the author instead of filling the message board.
I've posted excerpts from all 3 of my books, plus I'm giving a sneak peek at my next release, Hidden Fire.
Here's the group link: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/romanceexcerptsonly/
Restless, Christopher stirred on the hard bench. He had spent the last three nights waiting in the solarium. After his little tête-à-tête with Sherry, Christopher had come back to begin his vigil. He knew Ms. Bell would come. The question was when.
Christopher glowered. The damn globe belonged in a steel-lined vault, not left out in a room filled with plants, begging to be stolen. He sighed and wondered if Aunt Tam had any notion of its true worth. Knowing his aunt, even if she did, it would make no difference.
He sat up as he heard a rustling at the far end of the solarium. A tiny pinpoint of light flickered in the dark.
“Damn,” came a low whisper.
Christopher grinned. The Nordic Queen had just encountered some of his aunt’s more prickly specimens.
He waited, his hand resting on the globe.
The stealthy footsteps drew closer. Christopher blinked as she waved the penlight in his face. “You!”
He stood and gave her an abbreviated bow. “Ms Bell.”
“What are you doing here?” she hissed.
“I live here,” he replied calmly. “More to the point, what are you doing here?”
“I came for my globe.”
He grinned. The woman was a pit bull. Once she had an idea firmly fixed in her mind neither reason nor common sense would dissuade her.
“It belongs to my aunt.”
“It’s mine,” she responded passionately.
Christopher stepped closer. “Are you always this obstinate? Don’t you realize some might term this breaking and entering?”
“Well, you should certainly know about that,” she retorted.
Christopher had been fighting an uncontrollable urge ever since she’d plastered her body against him in the rain. He was very much afraid he was about to give in to it.
“I suppose I should,” he murmured as he drew her into his arms and lowered his head.
“Don’t even think about it,” she warned.
He could feel her body stiffen against him. “Darling, it takes no thought at all.” He tilted her chin up and placed his lips on hers.
Gabby’d had every intention of fighting him off. But the moon shining through the glass roof and the lush scent of tropical flowers assaulted her senses. And this man’s arms and lips were having the strangest effect on her.
She’d read in more than one romance novel the expression, “her insides turned to jelly” but she’d never truly experienced it before tonight. Another first, she thought incoherently, remembering the way their eyes had met across a crowded room.
Her arms crept around his neck and clung, afraid in her suddenly weakened condition, that if she didn’t hold on to something she might fall.
Christopher was also having problems with reality. He felt like he was holding loaded dynamite that would either blow up in his face or send him careening toward the celestial heavens.
Popping in to share this day-brightener. I got the following from a reader who was traveling with her husband and brought Finding Sarah and What's in a Name? to read on the trip.
You wipe the floor with (NYT best-selling mystery author's name redacted). Your stories are so much more engrossing, sparkling with detail (the author) could never imagine. You would have enjoyed seeing me go cross-eyed clutching What's in a Name?, reluctant to leave my seat on the plane, dragging my feet changing planes, stalling under lights in baggage claim, refusing to go to bed until I finished. My poor husband. I read so much faster than he does. We started reading on our SEA-DTW-CLT flight and swapped books for the return flight. I'm a compulsive finisher and your engrossing writing exacerbates my tendency to annoy my husband with my speed reading.
So when can we look forward to reading your next one?
It's kind of ironic that this is my day to blog because I'm blogging about favorite heroes and today is Super Tuesday-a day to pick a different kind of hero.
K, enough said.
I'm putting together thoughts on the kinds of heroes we read about and see on television and in movies. And I could sure use your help. In my next few blogs, I'm going to list some different types of heroes/heroines and I'd like your input. If you can think of other examples of the types of heroes/heroines I'm discussing, please leave a comment and let me know. I'd really appreciate your thoughts.
Here's are three types to start with...
Who is the HERO?
The guy or girl who saves the day. The hero likes to help out people in distress and has the guts, skill and experience to prove it. His/her morals are high and his/her character is strong. This guy/girl can be so stiff and unyielding he/she could almost break in two. It’s his/her way or the highway, but when times are tough the hero marches in and saves the day.
Examples: Anita Blake from Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake Vampire Hunter series.
Who is the CEO?
Very similar to the Hero, but with one main difference. The CEO’s morals can run the gamut from heroic to an alley cat. His/her leadership goes without question as folks step out of the way and follow him or her. But whether what he/she does to accomplish his/her goal is or isn’t for the overall good of mankind is hard to pin down. One thing’s for sure about this guy/girl—the CEO goes for AND gets what he/she wants.
Examples: Wrath from J.R. Ward’s Dark Lover.
Who is the UNDERDOG?
Just like the NY Giants at the recent Superbowl, this guy/girl doesn’t seem to have a chance. But time and time again the underdog proves everybody wrong. Their strength of spirit, persistence and determination in the face of often overwhelming odds leads them to victory again and again and again.
Examples: Harry Dresden from Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files.
Until we chat again on February 19th, I look forward to hearing from you.
Best, Eden
Eden Robins www.edenrobins.com Dark...Dangerous...Decadent Happily-Ever-Afters
I'll be signing my two Cerridwen Press Books, Finding Sarah and What's in a Name?
If you're in the Orlando area, please drop by.
On Saturday, February 9, from noon -2 pm at Barnes & Noble, 2418 E. Colonial Drive in Orlando, romance authors Catherine Kean, Dara Edmondson, Louise M. Gouge, Linnea Sinclair, Aleka Nakis and Terry Odell will be autographing copies of their novels in a special book signing to benefit Central Florida’s A Gift For Teaching, which provides classroom supplies for underprivileged children through its Free Store for teachers. A percentage of book sales will be donated to this non-profit organization. Book buyers will receive a wonderful goody bag! For more information, call (407) 893-6372.
I've had six books accepted in my series, Garland of Druids, and had little trouble with the names. Some of them seemed to name themselves. From Druid's Daughter, to Druid Triumphant, it all seemed easy. Then I started book seven. In fact I finished book seven, still leary about any of the titles I was considering. So went on the web and asked my good friends at the Cerridwen chat site and got some fantastic answers. Very smart group of cooperative authors who are alway glad to help. I finally settled on one I came up with myself, but only with the inspiration of such good ideas from others. The new one is now named Druid Disdained, and is about a man who thinks it's time to marry, and wants someone who is definitely NOT a Druid. Naturally you know who he falls for, but won't give up his stubborn preference, and that leads to all kinds of complications. This one was great fun to write, even if the title gave me fits. Thanks again to all my friends who helped. Jean
My Western set in 1850's Nevada territory is on the shelf and I have to say I'm pleased with the editing and choice of back cover blurb. It's a big book covering almost twenty years of living and loving by three remarkable women.
I love traveling through the old Comstock Lode and Gold Rush sites, especially Virginia City, Nevada. I hope to go up to Placerville, CA this summer. Placerville used to be called Hangtown. I'd like to set a book there. Westerns appeal to me partly because of the courage and perserverance people must have had in those times, but also it was the first time in human history when wealth could be attainable by anyone willing to do the work. Our country became less of an English society and more of an American society in those days.
Thanks to everyone for their kinds words about this book and I wish you all a happy Valentine's Day.
