WeWriWa: A New Project Begins . . .

A new WIP was born while away last week at Lake Michigan with three author friends. In our rented house, without any distractions (excepted for a planned day trip to Lake Michigan and one of its very fine breweries/restaurants), I’d expected to be elbow deep into the story by the time we packed up to return to our daily lives. Here’s me hanging my head with only a Prologue and the first two pages to show for it. And then, a weeklong visit from my grandguy. No way I’ll feel guilty about sitting in a theatre with Vin Diesel and the F&F gang, going to the zoo to feed mosquitoes, spending a day in Lansing’s quaint Old Towne shopping and dining, or even watching Supernatural reruns for the __th time with him. But now, no more excuses. It’s back to work time with this first look at the second book in my as yet unnamed romantic suspense series.

They sprinted along the edge of the road, three young girls with hands laced over their heads against a long overdue downpour. Their laughter mingled with the sound of raindrops pelting dirt as hard as concrete. Bookbags flopped against their backs in time with racing footsteps.

They didn’t hear the vehicle’s approach over the rumbling thunder until it was almost upon them. Startled, the three leapt as one into the dry grasses on the shoulder as a cargo van rattled past, muffler growling like the heavens above. It slowed to a stop just ahead of where they stood frozen as startled fawns. Backup lights flashed on as the vehicle slowly rolled backwards until abreast of them.

When the side window rolled down, a strange man leaned out, the expression on his pale face one of concern.

“Are you girls okay?” he yelled above the storm’s mounting fury. “Didn’t mean to give you a fright.”

Looking forward to your comments to get me excited about this new project! And to seeing what you’ve been up to!

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.

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WeWriWa: G vs E . . . RISE BY MOONLIGHT

Squee!! It never gets old no matter how many books you write!! 

Forgive that giddy moment. Now on to my post . . .

Good versus Evil. A plot device from the beginning of time – literally. This week I’m continuing to explore the villainous aspects of my latest release with this scene between our shapeshifter hero, Max Savoie and Carmen Blutafino, the criminal cornerstone in New Orleans now that Max’s mentor is no more. Manny Blu owns The Sweat Shop, a French Quarter strip club where high stakes gambling and dark deeds are done in the rooms upstairs. Above pudgy manicured hands and corpulence stuffed into a gaudy suit are a shark’s hard stare and a survivalist’s quick mind as Max grills him about his knowledge of an attack upon his mate, Detective Charlotte Caissie. 

“I’m supposed to just give you that information out of the goodness of my heart?” 

“If you want it to keep beating.” 

“Don’t insult me, Savoie. I’m not afraid of you.” 

Max bared his teeth, earning Manny’s rapid blink as if doubting the reality of those sharp points. “Yes, you are, because you’re not a fool, and you don’t want an until-the-end-of-timeshare out in the swamps with (your rival) Petitjohn’s bits and pieces.”

“That was you.” 

The booming laugh relaxed Max’s threatening pose. “Not me, personally, no,” he drawled, “but with you, it’d be personal.”

(and the rest of the scene)

Ergonomic leather groaned as Manny leaned back to contemplate his next words the way he would a poker hand. Music pounded up from the matinee show in the ensuing silence until finally he offered, “Were I a betting man, I’d put my money on Brady. He has an old friend in town he’s rather desperate to impress, and from what I gather, she’s no friend of yours.” 

Genevieve.

“A shame one can’t depend upon one’s friends . . . or family,” Max drawled, “but then you’d know that, wouldn’t you?” 

The cool jab at the mobster’s wife’s desertion earned a twitch of pressed lips. “No, you can’t,” Carmen gritted out, “but you can shut ′em up.” 

To me, a great villain is one who doesn’t quite look the threatening part . . . until he has a gun at your head . . . as one of our other nefarious characters will discover. From Hans Gruber and Hannibal Lecter to The Usual Suspects and Fight Club, misdirection enhances the danger once the truth is revealed. And I love a good surprise. RISE BY MOONLIGHT is filled with unexpected moments and reveals which is why I had so much fun writing it, and hope you’ll have just as much reading it! Who are the fictional villains who took YOU by surprise? 

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I had all sorts of fun during my RISE BY MOONLIGHT blog tour. A BIG thank you to those who hosted, visited, and shared. The winner of my $20 Amazon gift card is . . . Rachel G! 

This summer has disappeared into a haze of isolation and anxiety. Thanks for helping me stay sane(ish), fellow Warriors! I, for one, am glad to get August behind us and to hopefully move on to more positive things!

Happy Writing!!

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their 8sunday posts.

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WeWriWa: Evil Woman . . . MIDNIGHT MASQUERADE – $.99 SALE!

Ever since the Wicked Witch of the West had me hiding behind our living room sofa every time she appeared in a puff of smoke, I’ve had a healthy respect for evil women – those who do what they want for no one’s benefit but their own and heaven help anyone who gets in their way. What better villain for my currently ON SALE(!) vampire romance set in our country’s capitol. Bianca DuMaurier has been a wonderful returning nemesis in my “Touched by Midnight” series and returns to MIDNIGHT MASQUERADE with a fiendish flare. Here a taste . . .

The ninety-degree vista of windows overlooked a city alive with intrigue and opportunity, which was why Kaz loved it, for the same reasons he might have loved the woman silhouetted against the glass . . . if either of them had had a heart.

It used to bother him that she didn’t cast a reflection in the window, but he’d gotten over that and a lot of disturbing little details about her since they’d chanced to meet in his home of South Africa all those years ago, because details weren’t important when one concentrated on the end result, which was why he was so successful . . . and why Bianca Du Maurier let him live.

“Does he know who Rae Borden is, or rather what she is?”

Kaz had taken a true liking to his young protégé and his naked ambition, who under the proper tutelage, could have developed into a fine associate, but watching his unnatural partner pace like a wild thing before the windows, he knew that wasn’t in the cards for Nick Flynn. 

“There is no need for you to know my plans.”

At times like this, when she looked down her haughty nose as if he were something too inferior to understand, he truly despised her . . . enough to rid himself of the threat of her . . . if only he didn’t fear her power and lust for it with an equal abandon. 

Then her humor returned upon another dark chuckle as she purred, “The poor fool has no clue as to what’s going on around him or why, that none of us are what we seem to be, himself included. He’s in for a harsh education.”

The way she said it made Kaz very glad he had been quick to learn things could be much worse than partnering up with a demon.

Bianca turned toward him, allowing him to see what she really was behind the facade of exquisite beauty, her image flickering, faltering and then fading into a juxtaposed shape of pure evil without time or place or rules, an evil so horrendous, so ugly, he had to avert his eyes.

“He will cooperate, or he will be dead . . . or as good as.”
 

Burr! The icy undead Queen of Mean is back in town and looking for revenge upon the family of those who did her wrong.


Next week I’ll introduce the opposites attract main couple who are in Bianca crosshairs. 

Preview Book 8

   

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Just got back from a fabulous five day, one woman (and occasional grandguy guest) hotel write-in to get back into my W.I.P. Got three chapters done and the momentum going again. How could I not in this lovely setting (with a pool, hot tub, exercise room and breakfast buffet!).

Many thanks to my sister for meeting me for dinner (eating one-handed with a broken clavicle!) one night and my D-i-L for indulging me at a great sushi place the next.

Happy Summer! And happy writing, Fellow Warriors!

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their 8sunday posts.

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WeWriWa: Back to the Keyboard. The Story Continues . . .

It’s hard to settle into a routine that’s been interrupted by weeks of PT and fatigue. I’d read all my planned books on Kindle: 606 pages of Justin Cronin’s “City of Mirrors” and Koontz’s “Forever Odd,” binged on “The Handmaid’s Tale,” “Brain Dead,” “Black Sails” and caught up with “House of Cards” and “The Black List.” Last week’s WWW post was the first time I’d opened my WIP and it was a struggle to focus on the story when I could be napping, watching “Supernatural” reruns or scrolling Twitter (not posting, just browsing). Enough. That book ain’t gonna write itself! To get back in the mood for the final book in my “House of Terriot” shapeshifter series, PRINCE OF DREAMS, (and find an excerpt), I did a read-through of my outline and chapters written, and, FINALLY, went back to work on Chapter 3. I’d like to say the words just flowed, but in truth, they’ll need a heavy edit, but at least I have them to edit now!

To get you (and me) back into the story, I’d introduced shapeshifter prince, Kip Terriot to Tarot reader (and much more) Ophelia Brady in a cute-meet some months ago. Instant karma! But when he goes back about his family’s business and she shuts down her booth on Jackson Square for the night, Phe meets with an unpleasant surprise where she’d parked in a shadowed alley . . . 

Let go, let him have it! Ophelia’s sensible, though dazed, mind demanded. Eighty dollars wasn’t worth her life, yet still she clung to the cash box, an anger fueled by detested helplessness feeding her determination as surprise registered in the harsh lines of her attacker’s face. Dwarfing her in size, he’d obviously expected quick capitulation, a snatch-and-grab, not a tug-of-war that he ended with the quick pop of his fist against her jaw, dropping Phe to dirty cobblestones, her planets spinning wildly out of alignment. Cradling the explosive throb with her palm, she watched a blur of ragged tennis shoes dart down the alley.

Then the bed of her rusty aqua truck rocked. The effort of glancing up swamped Ophelia with dizzying sickness, making her doubt what she saw . . . a crouched figure, there then gone, leaping over the cab with a thump on the hood, before disappearing down the alley. She turned her head to follow but wooziness forced her to close her eyes against the nauseating roll.

Then he was there, kneeling beside her, her Knight of Cups.

Lost in the tender light in his eyes, Phe heard the rattle of her cash box as he set it on the stones beside her to ask, “Are you okay?” his voice rumbling with concern. 

“Now, very,” she mumbled, trying not to move her pounding jaw. “Where did you come from?”

More on this scene next week. Now, my big news: I’m heading back to the Tucson Book Festival in March to sign the reissue of my first (!) novel in Tell-Tale Publishing’s booth! Just the thought of escaping these 6 to 26 degree morning drives to work has me digging out my summer clothes in anticipation of going from this . . .

To this . . .

Until then, Chapter 4, here I come!

Happy Writing, Warrior pals!

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their 8sunday posts.

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WeWriWa: I'm Back in the Saddle Again

Can one suffer withdrawal from not being at the keyboard for three weeks?! I thought I was experiencing the first twitches of it after not being able to sit in my office chair for any length of time after knee replacement. I'd gotten one of those bendy legged computer bed trays but trying to figure out how to get both sides positioned was too exhausting when my Kindle was loaded with books I'd promised myself I'd read. So lots of reading and Netflix binging ensued instead of increasing chapters on my WIP. One thing I did manage to accomplish was a goal list for 2018, and high on it is the reissuing of my award-winning Dana Ransom Western historicals from the '90s that I'd gotten the rights back to. Going through the first book, TEMPTATION'S TRAIL, got me all lathered up to go West again with my half-Apache tracker hero and his family. Here's a peek . . .

Bluntly, he told her, "Miss Duncan, where I'm going, every insect has a sting, every bush a thorn, every snake a fang, the sun is hot, the water's scarce, and the ride is so hard most sane men would refuse to make the trip."

"I'm not most men, Mr. Bass."

Having traded her fancy society clothes for a sensible split skirt and white cotton shirtwaist, glossy boots replacing kid shoes and the glorious twists of her hair braided back from the milky softness of her face and topped with a flat-brimmed hat, but even so, she looked no less feminine, no less fragile. She'd wilt within the hour and be begging for mercy by nightfall, and then he'd have to lose precious time bringing her back. 

Trying a different approach, he took a step closer so that in her boot heels, they were almost eye to eye, she, tall for a woman, built like a supple reed, easily bent, but not easily broken. "How do you know I won't take you out there where there's nothing but nothing and slit your throat?" he goaded, letting that sink in before adding with a whisper of menace, "or worse?"

Without so much as a blink, she smiled wryly at him. "If that was what you were planning, you'd hardly warn me of it ahead of time, would you? And then," she added with a bit more tartness, "you'd be losing out on the thousand dollars, and I hardly think a man would be willing to sacrifice that for me, so stop wasting time, Mr. Bass." 

His critical gaze lingered over the coltish sway of her hips as she walked toward the door, thinking about the courageous fire in her eyes, thinking she could be wrong . . . thinking way too damned much as he strode after her.

Having grown up in the great era of John Wayne and TV westerns - Gunsmoke, Have Gun Will Travel, How the West Was Won, Wanted Dead or Alive and Maverick, right up to the Magnificent Seven remake, Tarantino's Hateful Eight and Christian Bale's new adventure, to me, there's nothing like a steely-eyed hero with a grudge or a goal. Now the big decision . . . self-pub or look for a more traditional avenue?

So . . . how am I feeling now with my new bionic part? Up walking same day as surgery with a walker, walking on own two legs within three days at home without assist, climbing alternating stairs in six days (to the amazement of my PT guys!), graduated PT in less than two weeks instead of the recommended 6-7 weeks, driving and back to work full time in three weeks and stepping DOWN stairs (the hardest thing you can do with a new knee). Yeah, kinda like this . . .


Hope y'all have gotten off to a great start in this New Year. I sure have missed visiting with you! Can't wait to catch up.

Happy New Year, Happy Writing, and Happy Trails!

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their 8sunday posts.

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WeWriWa: Proud to be a Grrrrl!

I spent the long holiday weekend enjoying two highly entertaining and vastly different movies with the same message: It ain’t easy being a girl so you might as well come out swinging. On the surface, Wonder Woman and Hidden Figures don’t seem to have much in common, a comic book Amazon and a trio of real life women in the ‘60s, but both celebrate strength when faced with overwhelming odds – a strength of body, of mind, of will and character (and bladder!) that had audiences cheering “You go, girl!”

It’s no secret that I love a strong heroine in my books. At first glance, Amber James, single mom, working as a bartender for shapeshifters (there’s that grrrrrr factor!) to make ends meet seems quietly determined to stay under the radar and simply survive. But when her greatest fear rears up from the past to threaten daughter and her love, she shows that superhero moxie in today's excerpt.

Rico was . . . gone, most likely dead if they could be believed, and no one else would notice her absence, not in time to save them. Amber forced down the flood of anxious, weepy emotions, refusing to let them weaken her, just as she’d defied her fear of Brady in his office, by focusing on Evie. 

They were safe for the moment, a moment she hoped would be long enough to provide a way out, because Brady, like her father, would be looking for an opportunity to crush her, his placating lies buying him time to formulate a suitable and probably long dreamed of revenge for emasculating him all those years ago. A man didn’t get over that kind of personal insult, his hatred of her equal or greater than her terror at being helpless within his grip again, but she still held the upper hand, if she could hang onto her nerve long enough to play it. 

She didn’t have to wait long. 

The door burst open, startling her into a defense pose as an enraged Brady shoved his man aside to close himself in the room with her, a room suddenly a hundred times smaller and less cozy. Though fright leapt in her chest, Amber forced her posture to relax as she regarded him coolly, smile remote and taunting. 

“You think this is a game,” he raged, holding himself in place with difficulty, big, brutal hands working at his sides as if eager to feel her neck between them, "that you can trick me with information that's coded.” 

“And without that code, useless to you. You’ll get the code when my family is out of your reach.”

I'm finishing the last few scenes of PRINCE OF FOOLS, (had that finale epiphany while doing my eye makeup on Friday morning before work and wished I had a super power to stop time so I could get it all written down right then!) and once they're done, it's editing time. I'm so looking forward to this first page to last read through. Glad I offered to only work two half days this week while my attorneys are out of the office. My super power is creating time when there is none. Shazzam! Now, to use it wisely . . .

And if you haven't, see those movies!!

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their 8sunday posts.

Spread the word, share the love, warriors - Hashtag #8sunday.