"It was a dark and stormy night."

“It was a dark and stormy night”—probably one of the most recognizable opening lines to a novel, and one of the worst. Telling, not showing and why, when there’s so many wonderful ways to paint a storm with words?

And here's one of the best by Ray Bradbury:  "The seller of lightning rods arrived just ahead of the storm. He came along the street of Green Town, Illinois, in the late cloudy October day, sneaking glances over his shoulder. Somewhere not so far back, vast lightnings stomped the earth. Somewhere, a storm like a great beast with terrible teeth could not be denied."

Weather can affect all our senses, from ozone in the air left after lightning strikes, to raindrops kissing naked flesh. As a writer, I feel it is one of the best ways to engage a reader and draw them into my story. I love to use the weather in my stories. It gives me the opportunity to flex my artistic muscle and see if I can immerse you in my world. Bits and pieces, hints of what the world is doing, can be found scattered around my text.

Here are a few excerpts. Some are from WIPs, others from published novels.

Blown Away, (Happy Trails): The heat from the star blasted down, steaming the pools of water left on the streets from the late afternoon shower. Humidity twisted and danced around like a specter. The women’s perfumes clung to the ghosts, clotting the district with a nauseating sweetness that was an elegant scent when solo, but when combined, it reeked like a field of rotting flowers and fruits. Jenna’s stomach rolled. She pressed the back of her hand to her nose in an attempt to block it.

Slipping the Past: She should’ve left him before it came to this, but she worried about the trouble he’d get into on his own. At least this way she could try to keep him from doing something stupid. Which at the moment, she seemed to be failing at miserably.

“I’m going in there to take what we need. We can’t help being hungry,” he said

“Sit with me and stay warm. I’ll be fine.” She reached up and grabbed his hand.

“No.” He pulled away. “Stay here, out of sight.”

“Don’t go in there. Something doesn’t feel right.” That wasn’t a lie. Whatever triggered the unease gnawed at the corners of her consciousness. It was there, flashing danger alerts through her brain, waiting for an opportunity to strike and the last person she wanted to be a target, wouldn’t listen to her.

“I’ll be okay. I’m only going to nick some food and credit. Small stuff.” Nate tucked a loose strand of her hair into her hood. “I'll be right back. Nobody’s going to get hurt.” He turned. His boots crunched on the snow as he walked away, stringing her nerves tighter.

Jocelyn leaned against the brick. Idiot. What did he think he’d accomplish? He’d get her one meal and lose his soul over it. Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn. Why wouldn’t he listen? She’d be okay. She’d come out of worse situations than this.

“Nate.”

Bells jangled from across the street as he entered the store. Jocelyn’s stomach twisted into knots. Heat blew up from the grate where she sat on her heels, but it didn’t help the foreboding chill that blanketed her body. She raised her wrist to her mouth and chewed on her jacket’s frozen cuff.

“Be safe. Be safe. Be safe.” She rocked and focused. Nothing. Only that feeling as it grew stronger. “Get out, Nate,” she whispered, mentally reaching for him. No contact.

Nate, listen to me.

The wind whistled between the buildings, but nothing else.

Hear No Evil (WIP): Shit. Not good. Not only did that not seem to bother them, they hadn’t left. She’d seen enough horror shows to know the blonde caught alone in the office at the hour she’d been caught, always became worm fodder because of some guy with a big knife, or axe, or machete. Oh please not a machete. With the war display down the hall, they could take their pick of any number of fun and exciting ways to gut her. She closed her eyes and visualized the inventory. No, the machete wasn’t so bad.

Someone threw their weight against the door. Paxton yipped. Okay, get the hell out of the office, dipshit. What are you waiting for? She bit her lip and crawled across the floor to a window behind her desk, scrambling as fast as she could on her hands and knees. Worm fodder, worm fodder, worm fodder.

The bolt would hold. The glass was shatter resistant, but that door… She’d been the idiot to request the hand-carved replica of an antique temple door. Balsa was an easy wood to carve or so she’d been told and it was glued to a hollow core cheapie. Nice secure choice, i-d-i-o-t.

She bit her lip, grabbed her purse and pulled the window open. Paxton kicked off her heels and stuck her head out. The street sat five stories below. Snow floated down so heavy it made it impossible to see the building across the way. Slick, windy, stupid, mustn’t forget the stupid part. “Oh God.” What had she gotten herself into?

Two windows over and she’d be in the kitchen. Maybe she need only ask what they want? Why risk her neck? “Can I help you?” she called.

The entire door shook and Paxton swallowed. Okay, that would be a no. She stuck her head back out. Fifteen feet, perhaps? From the kitchen she could exit into another hallway and take the fire escape to the ground floor where the security officer was stationed and hopefully alive. The door banged again as someone slammed into it. But then again, in the movies the psycho always got the guard first.

She climbed onto the brownstone sill and pressed her bottom against the stone blocks. This was crazy. She was crazy. The snow and rough surface would destroy her favorite silk suit. The door rattled again, vibrating the contents of her office. Who the fuck cared?

Don’t look down. Focus. You can do this. Step and slide. Step and slide. She shuffled sideways, pushing the snow along the ledge like a plow, refusing to even take a peek at the street below. She’d lose her courage and now was not the time or place for that.

In one hand she held her purse the other her sling-backs hooked on a finger. The designer heels had cost her a fortune and she wasn’t about to leave them behind. A silly thing to worry about when one was shuffling along a ledge, but there were needs and wants and the shoes were a definite need.

Whoever was trying to break in had to have seen the light and thought that she might have the combination to the vault? Surely a thief, not someone that watched as Dr. Moore speculated. She had to believe that, anything else was too scary to contemplate.

Step and slide. Step and slide. She continued to move along the sill until the window was behind her. She pushed it open and crawled through. Not so bad. They couldn’t know she was in the kitchen, but she shouldn’t stick around for them to find out.

Hear No Evil (excerpt 2): Nate down shifted and pulled onto an exit. “I don’t like who I am, or what I’ve become.” The border sat one hundred miles ahead. Since the United States merged with their neighbors to the north and south, the borders were unmanned. Anyone standing on the continent was a citizen of the UR, United Regions. Enter at your own risk.

“You’re not Ian Saefa.”

“Then who am I? Because I’m not Nate Miller anymore either.”

Waves of heat warped the air in front of them. It wasn’t even noon and the blacktop from the old highway already smoked. It was dangerous to be out at this time of day, in the open in a vehicle like the glider. The small population that resided in the middle of the United Regions lived underground and only came out at night to man the power stations and the condensers that generated water for the residents. Not much was known about them. They kept to themselves and very rarely did an Enforcer enter their territory to dispense justice.

With the holes in the ozone, very few traveled south anymore. The middle of the U.R., at one time, had been Texas, Arizona, New Mexico Oklahoma and Nevada. It had become a wasteland, good for little but collecting dust, solar power and hiding from the law. Radiant energy plants that generated power for much of the Southwest dotted the horizon but little else occupied the space.

Which generated another question.

Why were there three gliders behind them? Nathanial eyed the mirror. “Don’t look now but we’ve picked up some friends.”

Paxton tightened her hold. “How many?”

“Three.” Nate glanced into the mirror again. They were closing in. In the last few seconds they’d gained a hundred yards. “We’re going to have to get off the highway and try to lose them in the desert. Hold on.” He cranked hard to the left and swung the back end of the glider around. They shot down the embankment and across a rock covered field. Paxton twisted behind him.

“You might want to go faster. They’re following.”

“You might want to grab hold of my belt.” Nate accelerated, leaving a sand tsunami rolling behind them and billowing into a thick cloud. “Hold on tight,” he yelled and ducked down close to the bars. Paxton tightened her hold and pressed her body against his shoulders.

He flipped a switch and pressed a button, igniting the glider’s boosters. They rocketed forward and the world blurred by. He’d half a charge and the last place he wanted to run out of energy would be in this wasteland. Using the boosters would drain their power. They’d have to lose them quick and find a place to rest in the shade while the glider recharged.

He glanced in the mirror to see they still pursued. He’d been crazy to leave the road. The people behind him were crazier to follow. How far would they go before they gave them up for buzzard bait? Something told him they weren’t the giving up type and he might have to change his tactics.

“They’re still gaining,” Paxton yelled.

“Where the hell did they get boosted rides? There’s no other way to catch this glider.”

“Same place you did.” Paxton’s voice fought against the roaring air and engine.

“I installed the system myself. Since reapers don’t use gliders, my guess is whoever’s behind us can’t teleport and they’re not from the DSLE.”

“Then who the hell are they?” Paxton said.

“Good question. They get any closer and you can ask them.” Nate studied the area ahead. Remnants of the King ranch, a spread that once covered more acreage than any other ranch in Texas. Now it was barren, dried up in the great drought of 2021, and a forgotten scar on Earth’s surface. Dead, desolate and unlivable--life, long since moved on to greener pastures.

A windmill’s skeletal frame stood against the turquoise sky. Its tin pinwheel spun and squawked above a dusty tank and extinct water source. Ahead a broken barbwire fence that once kept enormous herds of Herefords from wandering, now lay strung across the desert like broken string. Only the old wooden posts stood sentinel and they did little to keep anything in or out.

“I have an idea. Brace yourself. This might get rough.”

From frozen city streets to scorching wastelands, the weather can bring so much to a story. Thanks for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed the weather.

D. L.

Hot and Cold...

weather...I've used both in my writing. If you've read any of the Sovereign Kind books, you know my cats are mostly desert animals. They love the heat, just like me. *grin* There are a few 'cold' cats. In Cougar by the Tail, I used mountain lions, or cougars, that much prefer the cold temps of the mountains. In Hard Case, the heroine is a snow leopard shifter--definitely a cold, snow-loving cat. Wicked me, I mated her with a white lion, a cat who thrives in the heat of an African savanna.

A recent story, The Gift, is about mermen--one from the cold waters surrounding Iceland, one from the Caribbean seas. That was not a match made in heaven, lol. Neither can stand each other's extreme temperatures.

Here's a bit of The Gift:

Climbing through the car window, he hurried to catch up with Cray whose strides were long and purposeful. New snow didn’t deter the cold bastard or slow him down one bit. Rad struggled behind him in dress shoes and a full length, heavy wool coat. He was glad as hell he had his wool cap. Cray wore nothing but a pair of flimsy white cotton pants tied at the waist.

“Each year I think you won’t come. Why do you?”

It was a question he’d asked himself often over the years. Losing his footing, he fell down face first in the snow. Icy fingers gripped the back of his neck and pulled him up.

The man pressed him against a nearby tree, his voice low and ragged. “Why do you?”

His skin warmed immediately under the touch of his lover, and considering how cool Cray was, that always amazed Rad. There was no chance to answer before hard lips smashed into his and stole his breath away. Cray’s tongue shoved roughly into his mouth, and Rad savored the cool, fresh taste that followed.

Hands were everywhere on his body, sending his temperature sky high. Frozen fingertips forged through the opening of the coat and under his sweater where they became hot as they moved up his stomach to his nipples. The man rolled the hard nubs between his thumbs and fingers, wrenching a moan from deep in Rad’s gut that shattered the silent night. Cray’s sweet mouth continued to smother his with kisses.

Thick, stiff cocks bumped together, and his ached for release. Pulling away, frozen vapor drifted into the air surrounding each breathless word. “I come for you.”

No matter the weather or the temperature outside, I always find a way to bring them together, and though the weather plays a big part in what I write about, it never hinders the Happy Ever After.

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out.-© J. Hali Steele

When in Rains, It Pours

Using weather and writing. Like most other things you hear in reference to writing, use it if it's necessary.

Take for instance The Perfect Storm. Without the storm, it would have never taken place. It was necessary to the action, the storyline and is even a character in the book (yes, it was a book before it was a movie). It's a perfect example of how weather can be used in a story.

On the other hand, there are some scenes that could have done without the weather element. Take Spiderman for instance, the kissing scene in the alleyway. Was it necessary for it to rain? Well, not really, from what I remember. It wasn't a key component of the storyline. It was more for effect. So in that vein, it could have been necessary simply to set the tone.

Writers use weather to set the tone of scenes all the time. In the instance of the Weather Warden series from Rachel Caine (a series that just concluded I might add *weep*) weather is vital as the characters control it. Jo can control and manipulate the elements and save humanity.

How about an example from my work personally? The scene that immediately comes to mind for me is out of Blood Fever, the second of the Rebirth series books. The characters, Quinn and Evande, are standing out in front of Quinn's home and it's pouring. I mean it's raining cats, dogs, rats and frogs. Thunders crashing. Lighting is popping like a firework display on the Forth of July. It's a highly emotional scene for both characters and the weather reflects their emotion. More importantly...the reader learned something and they didn't even know it.

What? You'll just have to wait until this summer to find out when Forged in Fire releases. ;^)

Frustration tightened Quinn's eyes and the corners of his mouth pulled down into a deep frown. “You still don't get it, do you kid?” he shouted over the crack of lightning a few miles away and the thunder that followed. The storm rolled overhead, grumbling in annoyance. It seemed to be offended because we were ignoring it.

“Get what?” I asked him, aggravated because I knew full well what he was talking about, but was still refusing to admit. I couldn't do that to either of us, it just wouldn't be fair. It wouldn't be fair to anyone else either, most especially to Logan and Gina. They were caught up in this too even if neither of them realized it.

“I told you I accepted you years and years ago. No matter how much I swear, it's never going to matter, is it?” Rage edged into his voice.

I wiped my hand over my face as I tried to get the raindrops out of my eyes. “You accept me with conditions, Quinn. It shouldn't be that way.” This was an old song and dance for us.

He reached out and wrapped his hand around my forearm to pull me closer to him. Lighting exploded overhead and backlit his shape. “You know why I do, but you don't want to admit it or listen. To yourself or to me.”

Weather Thou Goest

I’m a Weather Channel addict, so it goes without saying that I use weather to enhance scenes in my stories. Actually, if we're being honest--I have a bit of an obsession with thunderstorms. I think it's the lightning (or maybe it's the comforting rumble of thunder).

Case in point:

A rumbling growl overhead diverted his gaze, if not his thoughts, from the trim lawns and tidy houses lining the block where his latest mark had resided. Above him, a roiling blanket of clouds stretched across the horizon. He stumbled over level ground as he experienced the same instant of vertigo as always when faced with a view of their darkened underbellies rather than their luminous crowns. (Wicked Kin)  

Here's another:

Wind whipped at my skin as it drove solid pellets of rain in stinging slaps on my neck and face. Thunder crashed as lightning brushed veined fingers across the sky. The dim glow of light called to me from a few hundred yards ahead. I ran, slipping and sliding over ground undecided whether it wanted to refreeze or melt. (Everlong)

I can't help it. (Yes, I know I use that excuse a lot.) I’m fascinated by the workings of something greater than humanity and wildly out of our control. I picture weather as a sentient creature. If you’ve ever seen a tornado, ever survived one, then you know what I mean. Some people say a tornado sounds like a train. I can see that. My argument is this—a train is a hunk of metal hurling down its own track. You get in its way, and it runs you over. Tornadoes don’t give you that luxury. They hunt you down. And you know what? They get pissed off when you’ve hidden well enough they can’t find you.

(The most fantastic picture of a supercell thunderstorm I've ever seen. Came from here.)

There’s something to be said for the way that particular beast grabs a house and shakes it, as if the people inside are delicious treats just out of its reach. Sometimes, it grows bored and moves on. Other times, it punches through the roof or rips the walls from the foundation to reach its prize. Always, it bellows this inhuman roar that plugs your ears and makes your pulse skyrocket while you wait to see how hungry it is this time. Will it leave you and your home intact? Or will it rip aside the barriers humans have constructed and consume everything in its path until its hunger has been sated? You never know. Each time is a gamble. Every siren, a cause to hide in your storm cellar or bathtub and pray this time the beast is well-fed and you don’t look like dessert.

March is coming on fast. Sirens lay dormant, for now. Let the beast come, I’ll be ready.

As Assault of Weather!

For the most part, I don't write about weather. Maybe I'm just over saturated with it since I am living in a constant downfall of snow this year!

But, having said, that I did bring up weather in my book Initiation that is releasing from Decadent Publishing on February 2nd, 2011. Why, you might, ask did I alter my normal writing style in this book? Well, there is a very good answer to that.

Rachel has been living underground her entire life in a weather controlled habitat. The first time she goes Upwards she is assaulted by the cold. Here is a slight taste of that:

A burst of cold wind hit me in the face and I gasped, finding the sensation all consuming. I’d never been outside of the maintained weather environment of the habitats, which were kept at a constant eighty degrees, the coolest they could make it considering how far down we were in the earth.

I fell to my knees, closing my eyes. Okay, I told myself over and over. I could deal with this. Not one Warrior had ever perished from a cold breeze…that I knew of. For a minute, I could do nothing but feel the thin, frigid air hit me square in the face even as I huddled on the ground. I opened my eyes, hoping the wind had died down a little bit and saw in front of me a pair of very large legs obstructing my view. I jumped up as I forgot about the wind and grabbed the stake from my leg holster on my way up.

How about all of you? How much does weather play a part in your writing?

A Storm is Brewing

I think weather can have a huge impact on a story. It sets the tone and mood of the book. Every time I sit down to  plot, the first thing I think of is what season this should be set in.

For a quick example, I just read Shadowfae, which I mentioned last week. LOL It's erotic, steamy, and sensual. The author set this story during a heat wave in the summer. Trickling sweat, little dresses and thin t-shirts sticking to the skin, and the subliminal message is HOT HOT HOT. Excellent use of weather.

I used a Chicago winter at the beginning of The Alpha to set the tone of the heroine's emotional state. Freezing, she's hunched into her jacket, her hands hidden, and her thread bare clothes and running shoes give little protection. Vulnerable was what I aimed at.

In a future project, a murder mystery, will be set during a typical Vermont snowstorm. I'm hoping it will increase the tension with not being able to see properly or move/drive fast. Things hidden in the snow and the heavy clothes make it hard to find or identify anything. *rubs hands* Can't wait to write this one.

Don't forget to comment to be entered to win a book from Hailey Edwards.

The winter blues...

This week’s theme question is, does weather in writing help or hinder us?

I don’t know about the other ladies here at Paranormal Romantics, but weather has no play in my writing all, except for it’s a good excuse to put a movie on for the kids to watch so I can write a little. Truthfully, when winter rolls around I get incredibly lazy. Why? Well, that’s cause I don’t want to step outside into the cold. I really hate freezing temperatures. Amusing, right? Yes, I live in Ontario, so half the year it’s cold here. Let’s just leave it at...I love snow, but from the warm confines of my home.

Because I spend so much time inside my energy level drops. I have discovered that through these months I’m not nearly as productive as I am during the summer. On a good day, with no kids around, I can write 4-5K a day. During the winter months that word count is cut in half. Do I dwell on it? Nah. I just do what I can and accept the fact that the winter is sluggish months for me.

Here is a little something though to show you what I’d love to do for the majority of my time during the winter. *grins*

What's on the Nook?

*Pokes head in door and adjusts big cone-shaped hat.* “Excusest me kind peoples. Wouldest thou pointest me in the direction of a guild of Paranormal scribes?” *Stares for a second.* Wouldest thou have seen them. They art...”

*Sighs.* “A little help here. Has anyone seen a group of paranormal writers? Anyone? Hello? Demon looking for paranormal writers.”

*Grabs long hair and begins to pull it through door. Hair pulls back.* “Fred! Let go.” *Braces foot on door jamb.* “Listen you over grown lizard, let go before I sell you to KFC, they roll you in eleven herbs and spices, and stuff your ass in a bucket.” *Wig slips off head and disappears through door.*

“Can you believe it? That wig is gonna cost me. They’re not cheap. Fred will eat anything. No, really. I’ve been having a hard time getting my mail lately. The mail carriers keep disappearing. It’s a good thing he’s not into ‘fine dining’.”

“Then there was Mrs. Sneider’s Bichon Frise, he burped up hairballs for a week. She called the animal control officer on me. Have you ever tried to explain how your twenty- foot dragon got out of the yard and ate fluffy? And of course, she accused Fred of leaving the yard muffins all over her front lawn too. Something about flaming piles of...” *Snort* “I told her it was fluffy. Fred uses her rose garden in the back yard. Besides, I really don’t know how that gate got open.” *Shrugs.*

“Flipping dragons! You can’t live with them and they make too large a meal for one. Well, I can see I’m a little overdressed. You could have told me we weren’t doing the whole role-playing thing. And to think I went out of my way to do the Mid-Evil wench thingie. See this corset. Do you have any idea how tight you have to yank the stays to get the pumpkins up to your chin? Never mind.” *Snaps fingers and changes to stilettos, and three-piece suit. Sits on desk and crosses legs.* “That’s better. From the look of it, it was going to be hard to find someone here that would climb up my hair and rescue me anyway.”

“Hi, my name is Bunny. I’m a demon.” *Holds finger up in the air.* “Wait, I know.” *Claps hands and massive tome drops on desk. Flips it open.* “Dwarfish, no. Goblin...ish? Draculainian? Isn't that like--Slavic or something? *Glances up.* Hmmm. Maybe. Fairy? I know, I know. It’s not fffffairy. It’s Sidhe, or Fae. Pixies. Whatever. A fairy is a fairy and they all have attitudes. Little bastards. Have you ever seen Tinkerbell when she has PMS? TinkerHell is more like it.”

*Flips page.* “Wait, wait, wait. Here it is...” *Clears throat.* “Work with me, okay. I am multi-lingual, but Elvish isn’t one of my languages. I’m fluent in Southern Sucubi. It’s the same as Northern, just less suck.” *Glances around silent room.* “That was a joke. I wasn’t serious. Lighten up, would you?”

“Mellon en amin!” *Smiles.* “Amin Irma quen.”

*Silence.*

“Hello. Anyone out there speak Forest Elf?”

*Raises brow.* “No? You’ve got to be kidding. There isn’t a single person in this group that can? You people are an interesting bunch. Fantasy writers, paranormal writers?” *Snort.* “Can’t even speak Elvish.

Okay, let’s keep this in plain English then.” *Raises brow.* “You do know English?”

“Hey, put that dagger down. Yes, you in the back. Put it down, or Fred’s going to have an early lunch. He enjoys take-out now and again. Yeah, I know. Fast food is bad for you, clogs the arteries, but…,” *leans closer,* “you don’t look all that fast. Still a little sluggish from Nano, I’ll bet. Mmmm, McWriter. A little sweet and sour sauce and...”

“Oh, where was I?”

“Yes. As I was saying. I’m Bunny and I’m a demon. Don’t say it, your really don’t want too. I’ll stick you with my pitchfork and roast you till crispy. Just because I look all cute, uh sexy with this tail and horns, doesn’t mean I can’t do damage. I’m the original Femme Fatale. I'm not overly fond of carrots either. Chocolate will do. I adore cookies, Devil's food cake... Sorry, I start thinking about chocolate and it's all over.”

*Yawns and stretches.* “Such a long night. I had this date with a hot Hell Lord. Met him at one of those internet dating sites. You can never trust those internet-dating services. I did specifically ask for an Axe Murderer.” *Rolls eyes.* “Instead, I got matched with this lame-ass demon that sat on my couch, drank all my beer, and forgot to put the toilet seat down when he snuck out in the early morning hours.”

“Anyway, we went out on this date. A pool party. My neighbor has a lava pool. It’s all the rage. We mingled, drank cocktails and every now and then, we’d shove a telemarketer, banker or politician in. Don’t look at me like that. *Puts hands on hips.* I’m a demon, not an angel. You should try it sometime. Very liberating. I haven’t had that much fun since the Dark Ages.

*Glances at watch.* Damn. I’m late. I have a fitting for a wedding dress. *Claps hands together.* I can’t wait to see his face. Please don’t say anything if you see him. It’s a surprise and I really don’t want to have to hunt him down if he catches on early. It’s such a pain. Tracking them from work, following them out and harassing anybody they see. Do you know what I mean? It’s so much easier to blindside them before they know what you’re up to. Still, being late, it is the fashionable thing to do and believe me, I'm all about fashion. So I'll sit and chat for a minute if you don't mind."

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately.” *Waves hand.* “I know, I know, idle minds are the devil’s playground, or is it the hands? Never mind. Trust me; the devil’s playground isn’t your hands or your mind. It’s the DMV. That’s right you heard me.” *Leans closer.* “The Department of Motor Vehicles. I have to tell you, my license is up for renewal soon and I just cringe at the thought of going in there. First, you have to wait for hours, usually next to someone who sweats profusely and doesn’t know the purpose of deodorant. Then the ladies room is out of order and if you get out of line to use it, someone steals your place.”

“Anyway, the woman that sits behind the counter and takes your picture... She’s EVIL and believe me; I know evil when I see it. Seriously—as in spawn of Satan—Minion of Beelzebub—Henchwoman of Lucifer. A true sadist. I spent a good four hours on my hair and make-up. The outfit I wore was brand new and there isn’t a garment around that looks bad on me. *Snort.* It’s true, what do you expect, I’m a demon, I’m the epitome of sin, sex and everything that’s bad for you. I’m supposed to look hot. Sue me. We own all the lawyers anyway.”

“Oh where was I...Oh yes, this outfit. A toad couldn’t make it look bad.” *Tosses hair.* “But that woman, that woman at the DMV snapped my picture for my new driver’s license and I looked hideous. Then to make matters worse, she wouldn’t take another. This time it better be different.” *Shakes pitchfork* “Bunny’s got your number.” *Digs in purse.* “No really, I’ve got it right here. It was a bitch getting it, but oh boy is it going to be worth it when she opens her Facebook and sees it plastered all over the internet. *Grins.* “We own the telemarketers too. Who’d you think they worked for?” *Eyes glow red.*

“Anyway, the reason I decided to visit... The ladies of Paranormal Romantics are talking about what they’re reading. Since I’ve got a lot of things on my Nook, I had to stop by. Where’s D L? Oh she’s here, but you know, possession is 9/10th of the law. *Smiles.* Where was I. Yes, when I scroll down the list, the theme seems to be debut novels. I got an advance reader’s copy of First Grave on the Right, and since it’s got a hero I can appreciate, I thought I’d take a moment to share my thoughts.”

“First off I have to tell you First Grave on the Right has the three F’s I look for in a romance novel.”

“Fun—the humor is top notch.”

“Fresh—not your mamma’s paranormal smut.”

“And lots of f…fulfilling romance.” *Buffs nails on skirt* “Seriously, you didn’t think that kind of language comes out of my mouth? I might be a demon, but I do have standards. Do you have any idea how much this smile cost me? Fangs are not easy to get ground down and still look natural. But I digress. I’m here to talk about the book, not moi.”

“As I said, the hero was someone I could appreciate. Reyes is hot, of the supernatural variety and I thought I’d met him before…then realized he wasn’t the same. My bad. But you can understand my mistake; I mean the guys down in hell are pretty hot. Again, it’s that whole temptation thingie.”

*Sighs.*

“And the other novels… We’ll I’ve got Song of the Scarabaeus. Loved the dark theme of this novel, even if I would classify it as a sweeter romance or science fiction with romance elements. I wish it had more of the sex.” *Rolls eyes.* “Yeah, I said it. Bunny doesn’t do sweeter. It’s in my contract. Anyway, you can appreciate a novel where the hero is a criminal on the lamb.” *Sighs* “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Who doesn’t want to meet a cute sociopath?”

*Taps nails on desk.* “Hmmm what else?”

“Oh yes. I opened up my email yesterday and Tara Maya had sent me her debut story, Unfinished Song: Initiate. Can’t wait to start.

I also have quite a few of Jayne Ann Krentz’s novels. The Burning Lamp trilogy is what I’m currently into. Love curses—love them, and her heroes are hot. Oh speaking of hot…”

*Glances at wristwatch.* “A wedding dress awaits. Lovely chatting with you, but I really need to go. I’ll stop by again and visit someday.”

“Ciao.”

*Vanishes in a puff of smoke.*

Look what crossed my path...

It's my turn to answer the question: What we are reading and what story lines we'd love to find on the shelf but won't write. Let me start off by saying there's not much I won't write if the muse bangs me over the head. Turns out she's just a paranormal, fantasy, shifting loving hussy! And she has no qualms about who or what is doing the loving--only that they love! *grin* I like my muse.

What would I like to see more of on shelves--something I don't know if I could be good at doing. Multi-author stories. Not anthos. Books that one author writes the first story, another author writes their story with different characters, and sometimes you even get to meet those from the first book. There is usually a common thread like, they all "live" in the same neighborhood, galaxy, or wherever.

I'm going to tell you about two I just read from the town of Draven's Crossing. Selena Illyria and Diana DeRicci are building a wonderful world around vampires, werewolves, dragons, and more! To use their words: It's a decadent paranormal series of erotic novellas... and, boy, have they started off with a bang!! Both novellas are available now: Purple Sword Publications.

Tempestuous Crossings by Selena Illyria:

Welcome to Draven’s Crossing, where fantasies and nightmares walk among us…


Vampire Mayor Draven desires mortal Rose. Her rebuffs excite him. When she finally gives in to his advances, their coming together is explosive, and their passion is more than he could’ve anticipated.

But a serial killer divides his attention. Can he keep his town safe from this mysterious menace and convince Rose that they belong together despite her reservations?

As a new resident of Draven’s Crossing, all Rose wants to do is her job. Draven could be a distraction she can’t afford, but she can’t ignore him or her arousal.

In the first book, I met Draven and Rose. The suspense alone would have kept me turning the pages. I was sucked in immediately by the town, it's machinations, the inhabitants and, in particular, the romantic involvement of the hero and heroine. The scenes between them are full of fire and passion. By the time they came together, I was so enthralled with them, and their world, I had to have the next book because--I'd fallen in love with [Draven]'s Crossing. I felt involved in their lives! Didn't hurt any that Draven, a vampire, is strong, intelligent, and sexy as hell.

Mind Games by Diana DeRicci:

From out of the darkness, a voice calls, luring one man into a battle of the unknown.


Jackal has lived a well-guarded secret his entire life. A being of immense power, he understands and accepts the loss and emptiness of never finding a soul to love, yet endures because it is his only path. Eternal life means none who walk the earth could comfort him for long.

The only one who could understand his plight has lived for just as long: a vampire. Taken by surprise and tortured, Kristof’s agony pulls Jackal to him in the dream realm, forging a bond that is unexpected and unexplained.

But now that they’ve connected, will the darkness that hunts all para-kind in Draven’s Crossing destroy them?

Jackal and Kristof...yummy! I felt their pain, their loneliness, their love, and when they did come together, I felt their joy. Jackal was totally unexpected! *big grin* Two very different beings, yet they find in each other something that pulls them together, and I enjoyed the whirlwind-ride along with them.  Each page drew me further into their world, into Draven's Crossing, and the lives of everyone there.

There's one character I'm not going to talk about, *ahem* hot, mysterious, tough, hot, furry, hot...did I say hot...

In both I found romance, suspense, wonderful dialogue, and an awesome story with all the eroticism I crave. Two authors, two great voices, and I'm looking for more of this to put on my cyber shelf. I'm dying for the next book already. I don't know which of them is writing it, but my eyes will be peeled at Purple Sword Publications... waiting... waiting...

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out.-© J. Hali Steele

Sitting on My Coffee Table in Wait

I'm not actively reading anything at the moment, mainly because my husband has a nasty cold that's creating havoc on the household ('tis that time of year...). BUT, never fear, I have books waiting in the wings. What's up for me first when I break my reading fast?

Yes, I've been eagerly anticipating this one, and the close of the series *cough* for a while. Ever since the previous book ended on a HAC (huge ass cliffhanger). Mostly because there are a lot of questions still dangling that need to be answered. Hope we finally get them. Shhh, don't spoil me.

As for what would I like to see on the shelves, but would probably never write myself? How about a smash up of Pennywise (from Stephen King's IT) takes on Bob (from Jim Butcher's The Dresden Files books)? Psycho clown freak bested by talking skull. See? NYT Bestseller written all over it. ;^)