Monday, October 10, 2011

Getting Old Sucks

Just saying...

I've put out my back twice in three weeks. Once picking apples with my kids and the other walking my silly hound. If I'm putting out my back and suffering, I want to be because of something exciting. (Insert your own imagination here).

So, I'm hopped-up on drugs, packing for a business trip, and trying to figure out how I'm going to survive the next few days on these meds. My goal is not to get fired by doing something silly but my inhibition is running low.

In the mean time, here are a few pics for your viewing pleasure and to start the week off right. The first two may understand my back issues. LOL







Sunday, October 9, 2011

What Makes Space Opera So Awesome?

I’ve been a fan of space opera my whole life. I started watching Star Wars as a young kid on VHS tapes. (remember those?). I watched episodes IV, V and VI so many times, I memorized the dialog. I’d then go out into the backyard with my sister and act it out. Our swing set was our spaceship. And we’d always fight over who could be Princess Leia.

I guess you just couldn’t ever have two of them.

Then, in my teen years I moved on to Star Trek- The Next Generation. I watched every episode: weeknights at 7pm. My favorite character was Data, and I wanted him to learn how to be human so badly. My least favorite character was Lieutenant Worf, because he seemed so mean and grumbly, but he had a heart of gold underneath.

So I decided to come up with what makes space opera so awesome and write my own. Paradise 21 is the result, and here’s my list:

Awesomeness of Space Opera includes:

1. Space ships that can do really cool things.
Not only does Paradise 21 have a colony ship, and a pirate ship, it also has an alien ship…(can’t elaborate- it’s a plot spoiler!)

2. Adventure on other planets.
Paradise 21 isn’t all in space. Aries crash lands on a barren desert planet with all sorts of indigenous species. If you stick around for the trilogy, you’ll see an ice planet, and a jungle as well.

3. High stakes melodrama
Aries must choose between her freedom and the man she loves. You’ll have to read to see which one she picks.

4. Aliens that look really weird
Again, I can’t spoil the plot here: but if you read enough of it, you’ll find this as well.

5. Laser fights
There’s one big laser fight at the end of Paradise 21, and someone gets shot! (Again- can’t tell you more than that!)

What do you think makes space opera so awesome? I’d love to hear your comments below. One winner will be drawn on October 13th to receive a signed copy of Paradise 21.

Aubrie Dionne
Romantic Science Fiction and Fantasy
Get Swept Away to Other Worlds...
http://www.authoraubrie.com
http://authoraubrie.blogspot.com

~*~


Aries has lived her entire life aboard mankind’s last hope, the New Dawn, a spaceship traveling toward a planet where humanity can begin anew—a planet that won’t be reached in Aries’ lifetime. As one of the last genetically desirable women in the universe, she must marry her designated genetic match and produce the next generation for this centuries-long voyage.

But Aries has other plans.

When her desperate escape from the New Dawn strands her on a desert planet, Aries discovers the rumors about pirates—humans who escaped Earth before its demise—are true. Handsome, genetically imperfect Striker possesses the freedom Aries envies, and the two connect on a level she never thought possible. But pursued by her match from above and hunted by the planet’s native inhabitants, Aries quickly learns her freedom will come at a hefty price.

The life of the man she loves.

Saturday, October 8, 2011

A Quickie.

Took my son out for his eighteenth birthday last night and ended up with food poisoning. So, today this is short and sweet. Here's a quickie.
And thank goodness I'm the only one who got sick.
Enjoy this treat--food poisoning free.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.” Dianthe pumped her arms, leaping from stone to stone and across the old ruins. Why the fuck did she pick up the damn necklace? She’d had a bad feeling about it, but ignored her instincts. Behind her the beast bellowed, shaking the ground.


In her hand she clutched the cursed object that got her into this mess, as much afraid to let go, as she was to hold it. It may be her only salvation, her only way out of the nightmare she’d dropped into. Everything seemed to have stemmed from it. She glanced back and tripped, going down hard on her knees. A cry tore from her throat.

Up. Run. Now.

She scrambled to her feet, leaving blood and flesh on what may have once been a wall, now only the old foundation of King Minos’s palace. She sprinted in her shorts and T-shirt for the Jeep that waited, praying she’d reach it before he got to her.

A fucking dare. Yes, she’d thought the whole story a myth. Greece was full of them. Then somehow on the last night of her class trip to Crete, she’d managed to wake the Minotaur on All Hallows Eve. Greek myth her ass. And how foolish to believe Halloween magic didn’t exist—even under a boot in another part of the world where they didn’t even mark the night on their calendars as anything special.

That thing certainly wasn’t a myth, and only magic could have brought it to life. She rounded the corner of the ruins, heart quickening as the main road came into view Her head snapped right and left.

Where was the jeep? Oh, hell. They’d left her.

Another bellow. Closer.

Dianthe bolted down the road. A pebble lodged in her sandal and she limped, doing her best not to let it affect her, unable to stop and remove it. They’d told her the Minotaur’s maze could be found here on the night the walls between the living and dead thinned. That the entrance to the fabled labyrinth would be revealed, and anyone stupid enough to sneak into Knossos on this night, would never to be seen again.

She’d pointed out that they’d probably been arrested and thrown into jail. The locals took their antiquities seriously, and breaking into a historical site could result in a life sentence. Her classmates claimed the locals said otherwise.

Sure. Right. Whatever.

A few hard shots later, and a lot of woo-woo stories told between them, she’d laughed it off and told them to put their money where their mouths were. She wasn’t scared of some Grecian boogieman. She’d go to Minos’s palace. In fact, she’d watch the sun rise from it—a thousand Benjamins richer.

So, they’d scraped the cash together and dropped her off at the ruins, telling her they’d wait until sunrise.

Jerks.

Everything had been fine until she’d seen the necklace lying on the steps and picked it up. From that moment on, nothing was normal. The world started to shake and the Earth cracked open at her feet.

Once the shaking stopped and the dust cleared, she’d seen what the quake uncovered. A gold thread hung from the crevice at her toes—the same thread that led… Nah. She’d dismissed it, sure some kind of gas had escaped the fissure and now played tricks with her brain.

Dianthe had leaned forward and peered into the fracture. Steps opened up, leading down into the darkness, beckoning her to see what lay beyond. Having heard the myth a time or two, she decided it might not be in her best interest to ascend said stairs.

The decision proved to be a concrete one when she’d heard the snort from the darkness, followed by red glowing eyes. Two plus two equaled monster. And she’d hauled ass away from it. Now, she was stuck where she had no business being at this hour, without an explanation for the police. Not as if she could actually call them on the cell phone that had up and died. Her friends had left her—probably laughing their asses off, thinking they’d taught her a lesson. Little did they know, Minos’s Minotaur wanted to make a light snack of her.

Outstanding.

The beast, Pasiphae’s son, stepped onto the road and into the moonlight. Her mouth went dry and her first reaction was to freeze like a scared rabbit. Yeah, that often worked well for the rabbit.

He snorted, moving closer. Muscles bulged everywhere, and veins popped up across skin stretched tight over hard flesh. He wore only a loin cloth, was barefoot, and would give any professional bodybuilder a case of envy.

Minus the face that only a mother could love.

He turned his head from side to side, lifting his nose in the air to sniff, until his gaze landed on her.

“Damn.” Translation: Big fucking monster. At least seven feet tall, with a body of solid muscle and the head of the ugliest bull she’d ever seen, Dianthe came face to face with the legendary Minotaur, and certainly not by choice.

It’s so not my night.

“You’re a big boy.” She said as she held her hands out to stall him. “I see you eat your vegetables.”

He snorted and gave her a bullish smile, licking his chops as he stared at her. Oh that’s right, the Minotaur ate meat—people. Dianthe swallowed and backed toward a stand of trees. “There’s a tastier snack down the road. Full of students marinated in wine and fattened on American fast food. Yum, yum.” She pointed off in the distance as she continued to retreat. “I promise you, I’m not tasty.”

He cocked his head, as though contemplating her words.

A hand clamped onto her arm and yanked her into some bushes. “Get back, woman.”

Dianthe turned toward the male voice and froze, dumbstruck. Oh hell. She had to be dreaming. Relief washed over her. For a moment she’d thought all this real, but men like that just didn’t exist, proof she was having one honey of a nightmare.

A tall Grecian warrior in a tunic stood next to her, holding a sword, but not wearing a helmet or carrying a shield. His dark hair brushed his shoulders, framing a strong face with a very angry mouth. His eyes traveled over her and his features softened.

“You are one of the sacrifices?”

“Oh, God, no. I came here on a dare.” She raised a trembling hand to swipe the hair out of her eyes. His eyes narrowed on the necklace clutched in her fist. She dropped her hand and his gaze shot back up to her face. “Let me guess. You’re Theseus,” she said. “A Prince from Athens.”

He nodded, confirming her suspicions. Holy shit. Theseus was a total hotty—a fine piece of Greek myth with his strong arms, broad shoulders and impressive display of near-naked male muscle. Boy, could she cook up a wet dream! Hell, she could work with this. In the myth, he’d slayed the beast. So, as long as she stuck with him, she should be okay—at least in theory.

From the way he looked at her—he didn’t think she was half bad either. He made no secret about checking her out, letting his gaze sweep her from head to toe. “And you are…?”

“About to be Minotaur munchies.”

He raised a brow. “What?”

“He wants to eat me.” She pointed at the monster who stepped stealthily closer. “Kill him. You got the sword of Aegeus, the brawn, the legend behind you.” She gave him a shove toward the Minotaur. “Get to it.”

He spun around and glared, his face two inches from hers. Fingers circled her wrist as he lifted the hand holding the necklace. “Why should I protect a thief and fool? Did you go into the Labyrinth to take this?”

“No.” She stomped her foot. “I didn’t steal it. I found it.”

“That belonged to his mother. I’m sure he didn’t leave it lying around for any fool to pick up.”

“I told you…”

The Minotaur roared.

Dianthe swallowed and yanked her hand free. “Can we discuss this later?”

“I promise you, we will.”

“Yes, now start doing whatever it is you do, and I’ll stand back here.” She cocked her thumb toward the trees.

“Don’t move.” He pointed his sword at her. “Not one step.”

She nodded and crossed her heart. “Not one step.”

Theseus turned and charged the Minotaur, who’d lowered his head, threatening to skewer him on his horns. Dianthe shoved her knuckles in her mouth to stop the scream. As Theseus swung the blade, the Minotaur blocked it with a brace-covered forearm. He struck Theseus with a back fist, sending him flying ten feet back, where he hit the road with a thud, shoulders first.

The Minotaur didn’t allow him a chance to recover. It rushed forward to attack the prone Greek. Theseus rolled to the side and onto his feet, spinning around with sword in hand.

A lumbering giant, and not nearly as smooth on his feet, the Minotaur’s fists came down at the same time, right in the spot the Theseus had just occupied. It roared and whirled around to face Theseus, swinging in rage.

“Your left,” Dianthe yelled out. “Um, no right. Watch ouch...” She cringed as the Minotaur’s fist connected with the side of Theseus’s head. The studly Greek staggered sideways and shot her a glare. “Sorry. I’ll shut up now.”

Another roar and Theseus’s sword slid between the Minotaur’s ribs with a sick gurgling sound that made her stomach lurch. The half-bull, half-man dropped to his knees. With a tug, the warrior freed his weapon and lopped the head from the creature’s shoulders. Blood shot from the Minotaur’s stub-neck like a fountain, painting the road and victor red.

Dianthe covered her eyes and turned her head. Okay, she so hadn’t needed to see that. Gross. Bile rose in her throat. Bad dream. Bad, bad dream. She gagged, but managed to keep her dinner and booze down.

His hand seized her arm and he pulled her down the road. “Come with me.”

She jerked away. “Ewh, no. You’re covered with…gore, and this is my dream. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to.”

He grabbed her, tossed her over his shoulder, and carted her down the hill toward a fountain fed by a stone aqueduct. She hadn’t noticed it before. Where had it come from? Water sluiced through the limestone channel and into the deep basin, before spilling over the side into another channel. “What do you think you’re doing?” Dianthe screamed and thumped his back with her fists.

“I need you to wash my back. I saved you, therefore you belong to me, and you will do as you’re told.”

“Fuck off.” Even if it was a dream, the Greek was pushing it. Women had come a long way, baby, and she wasn’t about to take his macho, chest-thumping declarations lying down, er, being carried off. She huffed a breath out, blowing her bangs off her forehead. “Put me down.”

“As you wish.”

Wait. What did he mean, wash his back? She turned her head. “Oh shit.”

He tossed her in the fountain, buttocks first, splashing water everywhere like she was a whale and not a one-hundred and thirty, um, twenty pound, woman. Theseus dropped his sword and stepped over the rim, wading toward her as he stripped off his tunic. Buck-ass naked. And hung. She eyed his semi-erect cock. Really hung. She squeaked and scrambled back, knocking her head on the statue in the center. Birdies flew before her eyes. “Let’s talk about this whole slave-master thing.”

He knelt down next to her to splash water over himself. Rivulets ran down his hard chest. She shifted where she sat, and her jaw dropped open. Well hello there. That image would forever be burned into her brain. Omigod. Did he have any idea how hot he made wet look?

Theseus turned toward her, clean of blood, and grasped her under the chin to tilt her face up to his. “There’s nothing to talk about.” Lips crushed hers, sucking away any remaining resistance down to the marrow in her bones.

His hand slid up her T-shirt pushing the fabric up and stopping on her bra. “What bindings are these? Are you injured?” His other hand came up to exam her.

Dianthe blinked. Bindings? “Oh no. That’s a bra.”

“A bra?”

“Yes. Where I come from we wear them to keep…” Why the hell did women wear them? They were damned uncomfortable, and females had survived for thousands of years without. “Never mind. The clasp is in the back.”

His fingers skimmed along the hooks, the tips brushing her skin as he freed it like a pro. He didn’t wait for her permission to pull her top and brazier off. With one deft movement, they sunk to the bottom of the fountain. His hands came up and cupped her breasts, his thumbs tracing circles around her nipples. “Beautiful.” He ran his hand up her body to her hair, fingering it. “It’s gold.”

“Blonde.”

“And your eyes are like the sky.”

“Blue.” A strapping young buck like him didn’t need to wax all poetic to get her naked, uh, naked-er. Besides, there were tons of women with… Wait. Not in ancient Greece. Wax away, big guy.

“Yes.” His fingers laced into her wet strands. “Hair of honey, eyes like the sea. Are you a goddess, then?”

Dianthe snorted. “Plea…”

His lips took custody of her mouth. He pulled her into his lap until she straddled him, and her thighs sat on either side of his hips. A fully erect cock now pressed against the soaked cotton shorts. His lips traveled down her neck while his hand slipped to the small of her back, pulling her hips in tight to his. She arched back, letting him feast on her breasts.

“Oh, God. I want you,” she gasped. Since this was all a dream, she might as well indulge.

“I’m only half-god.”

“Whatever.” She reached down and pushed the fabric off her hips, rising to her knees as she shimmied her panties down with them. Unable to go further, she stood and he tugged them past her knees, letting her step out.

A moment later, and without warning, his face was buried in her muff. Dianthe grabbed his shoulders to steady herself, while tongue, teeth and lips went for a full frontal assault. He lifted one leg over his shoulder and dove in deeper, thrusting his tongue inside her. Licking, tasting and sucking her clit. The night sky whirled around her. In and out. Hard and fast. Her muscles clenched and the orgasm exploded through her. The cry tore from her throat and her nails dug in.

“Ride me.”

He didn’t need to ask—not that he had. Dianthe didn’t plan on objecting. She dropped down, placing that gorgeous cock at the entrance to her pussy, slowly lowering herself as he stretched her as far as she could go. Theseus sucked in a breath when her pelvis met his and he’d seated to the root of his shaft. His hand gripped her bottom, and he moved her. “Harder.”

She worked her pussy up and down, fucking him hard. Every time she dropped, he thrust up to meet her.

“Beautiful. So beautiful. My goddess.”

And in that moment she was his goddess. Water sloshed everywhere around them. Wet flesh slapped against wet flesh. Her bouncing breasts rubbed his chest, the friction one of the most erotic things she’d felt. Harder. Faster. Tighter she wound.

He closed his eyes and groaned, biting her shoulder. That nip was her undoing. The orgasm tore through her, grabbing his rigid cock and squeezing him, bringing him to climax along with her.

His shaft pulsed inside her, filling her pussy with hot jets of come at each throb. Hands tightened their grip, holding her immobile. A growl rolled from his throat and he captured her mouth, kissing her as though he’d die without the taste of her lips. His tongue plunged inside her mouth, reaching for more.

She came again. It slammed into her so fast she hadn’t expected it. Dianthe tore her mouth away and arched back, burying him deeper, riding out the orgasm until she was dizzy with pleasure. “My, God,” she gasped. “I’ve never come like that before.”

He cocked his head and a smile crept onto his face. “Then I think you should have some more.” His hand cupped her cheek. “When the sun rises, I must go. You can come with me, or you can stay.” He lifted the necklace from the fountain and fastened around her throat. “The spoils go to the victor. It’s yours now.”

She reached up and fingered the intricate gold setting that overlaid large ruby stones. “If I come with you?”

“No, yours to keep regardless. This is what you get if you come with me.” He rocked his hips up as his cock started to harden inside her again.

She reached over and checked her watch. Six hours of mind-blowing sex, or a lifetime with a Greek hero.

Oh the choices…

****

A rooster crowed in the distance and Dianthe startled awake. The sun drifted across the steps of the palace and onto her face, warming her flesh. She blinked and shaded her eyes.

A dream—nothing more. She stretched and sat up. A heavy weight sat around her neck. Shit! Her hand flew to her throat where the necklace still rested. She blinked again and turned her head to survey the area. Ruins everywhere. No cracks in the Earth, no monster body, no Greek warriors who rocked her world.

Okay, maybe she’d found the necklace when she’d slept-walked. With a deep breath, she stood and faced the sunrise. “You’re nuts,” she said and snickered. Of course she wasn’t chased by a Minotaur, or carried to a fountain by a hunky Greek hero who fucked her senseless.

Brain check, babe—you need to lay off the spicy food before bed.

A hand grabbed her arm. “You’re not supposed to be here when Knossos is closed.”

She spun around and faced a security guard, who looked remarkably like her Greek Warrior. Her hand went to her throat, her pulse jumped under her fingertips. “I’m one of the students…I left something in the excavation.” Her heart pounded in her chest. Would she rot in jail forever?

He eyed the necklace. “That?”

“Um, no. Uh, I mean yes.” She took it off and handed it to him with a sigh.

He shook his head and pushed it back at her. “The gift shop is full of those trinkets. You should have come back when we were open. Come on, I’ll escort you to the gates. I’m supposed to call the police, but I’ll give you a free pass if you promise not to do it again.”

“I promise.” She walked alongside him. So, he wasn’t going to throw her in the slammer? Lucky her. Dianthe bit her lip and glanced sideways at him. “Why won’t you call them?”

“Not sure. I feel like we’ve met before.” he said.

She stopped in her tracks. Question answered. “Have we?”

“I get the feeling…” He shrugged. “Never mind. I had the strangest dream last night. I’ll tell you about it over breakfast.”

“Breakfast?”

He smiled. “They have a great restaurant called the Labyrinth. Ever been there?”

“No—only in my dreams.”


Have a great weekend!

D L

Friday, October 7, 2011

It's Friday

"Hi, my name is Joann, I don't like chocolate."

*wiping the tomato from my face* Sorry, ladies, chocolate just doesn't do what wonderful, salty snacks do for me - especially potato chips. I'm going to talk about my favorite snacks for when I'm reading or writing. Hey, don't hate, lol, my books all have greasy little corners when yours undoubtedly have chocy smears. *laughing*

Once I'm settled in my fav chair, feet tucked under me, a cold beer (the usual) sometimes a glass of wine beside me, I rip open a fresh bag of my favorite chips: Herr's Red Hots. First off, you have to like hot to eat these babies. Yum... the redder the better!! There is just this awesome, comforting feeling about licking my fingers, tasting the salty, spicy, hot flavor as I turn the pages. If I'm writing, I often reach into the bag beside my computer when I'm contemplating what my characters will do or say next. And, yup, I'm a licker. I lick the seasoned goodness from one side, flip to the other side, then I pop it all the way in my mouth. Orgasmic is a good word right at this point! *grin*

When I lived on the West Coast, they didn't have Herr's and I had to settle for another brand of chip. They were okay, but not the same. You know what? They didn't have Tastykake Krimpets either, but that's another story for when I have a sweet tooth. One of the first things I bought when I came home, along with a good Philly style cheesesteak, was a bag of Herr's potato chips!

I like crunchy things and I stuff chips into my sandwiches. Lordy, you've got to do this if you haven't already. Nothing like biting down on your sandwich and getting the flavor and crunch of a good chip. This brings me to a new chip I've discovered and, yes, it's a hot one too: Kruncher's Jalapeno chip by Snyders of Hanover. Talk about crunch--you can hear it across the room! I often munch on these at work and the peppery smell brings people to my desk in droves--all wanting a sample!

So, if you get a chance, and you're reading a good book, or eating your favorite sandwich, try adding the chips. You might like it...

What's your favorite reading snack? If it's chocolate, you can tell me... I won't throw a tomato at you!!

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

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Affliction

Forgive me, dears, for not posting more today. But both my husband and I are sick with some kind of stomach virus and I will be climbing back into bed shortly. Because of my stomach affliction, I was able to stay up an watch American Horror Story last night.


Anyone else catch it? If so, what did think? Personally, I think we're in for one hell of a mind game and I'm kinda looking forward to it. I always like to watch movies or shows that make me say What the ...?

If you find yourself with a few spare moments today, I'm at The Romance Studio celebrating the release of the second book in the Sypricon Masters series and have a few downloads of it up for grabs. So swing on by for some exclusive excerpts! http://theromancestudio.com/party/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=12191:perfect-limit-sara-brookes&catid=1:latest-news&Itemid=54

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

To Review or Not To Review

I was pondering this in a chat room full of authors last night. I got a lot of good answers, but I don't think I'm any closer to figuring out a middle ground for myself.

On one hand, I can see the argument against authors reviewing other authors. I mean, you don't want to buy a book based on back slaps from friends, you know? (Which is giving the author network a lot of credit. I "know of" a lot more authors than I "know." I'm sure the same is true for everyone else. So you're far more likely to read a review by a reader who happens to be a writer than someone looking to do a fellow writer a solid IMO.)

Which flows into my next point. I'm a reader too. My love of reading why I started writing. If I really enjoyed a book, regardless of who happened to write it, is it wrong for me to want to share that enthusiasm with other readers?

Well, maybe. Reviews should be impartial. Or let me say I place more value on impartial reviews.

That's part of the reason why I don't review friends' books, no matter how much I enjoyed them. The other part is because I beta or crit for several of them, and it feels wrong to rate books I had a hand in polishing, you know what I mean?

I'll be honest, as much as I crave reviews as an author, I'm rarely moved, as a reader, to give them. A book really has to knock my socks off for me to sit down and write up a review. I should also mention here I'm a horrible reviewer...

I get so excited about really good books I gush and my vocabulary is reduced to "awesome" and "whoa" and "want." So yeah, things I don't think another author would read and considering valuable input. Although, I do bring the foaming fangirl pretty well. ;)

I don't know. Maybe I'm over thinking this.

Sometimes I get so excited and want to spread the gospel of whatever I happen to be reading at the time. Last week was Kelly Armstrong's Otherworld series. And yes, Bitten did rate a review from me. I love that series. (And Lucas!) (And will book thirteen hurry up and get here? Or do I want it to get here since it's the last one?) (But I really need to see A and S get together!) <- See. Most of my reviews aren't even that cohesive. LOL

So what do you think? Is it okay for authors to review other authors? Crit partners? Friends? Do you believe that's where the idea a bad review that teaches you something is better than a good review that lavishes praise without giving you room for improvement?

I'm curious.

(Oh, and I'm also reading The Darkest Surrender, Gena Showalter, and it's one of her best, if not her best in the Lords of the Underworld series.)

Love Beyond Sanity


Hello everyone! In the last week since I've been with you, I've had a book release. Its called Love Beyond Sanity and it is the second in a series of books called The Outsiders. The first book in the series is Love Beyond Time.

Here is a blurb:

Eighteen years earlier, Charma lost her destined soul mate. Convinced he must be dead, she kept her fears to herself so as not to destroy the morale of the Outsiders who already live with a shaky prophecy as their only guide.

Dr. Jason Randall is a man used to getting what he wants. There has never been a problem he couldn't out think or a situation he wasn't capable of handling.

Now they are both hunted by not one but two demons as they lead the slowly forming group of Outsiders out of the darkness and back into the light. The two strong souls will have to decide if prophecy alone is enough reason to stay together through insane odds...or if love is their true fate.


Excerpt:

She had to protect her daughter. Larissa Monroe knew her life was coming to an end. Truthfully, she and her husband had signed their own death warrants the day they'd silently watched and not objected to the summoning ceremony that had brought this demon into their midst.

Rounding the corner in the cave Morgan and the others had created as a hiding place for them, she heard Charma's cries in the distance. Morgan was not as good at comforting their daughter as she was. This wasn't surprising, Larissa was more than just a healer; she was a telempath. Charma was not yet able to speak--being only months old--but Larissa was still able to know exactly what she needed and what to do to comfort her most precious gift. It was good for Morgan to bond with Charma--even if the child ended up screaming twice as long when she was with him. Their time was short, whatever happened to Charma now, the most likely scenarios were that Larissa and Morgan would not be with her.

They had been hiding in this forsaken place for months. It was damp, mold ridden, filled with vermin, and all around horribly uncomfortable. However, since they'd had to run from the hills that housed them safely and kept them hidden for millennium, this place had seemed like blessed haven. All in all, she'd never been so grateful to live in what basically amounted to a cave in the whole of her two-hundred-year existence.

Balling her hands into fists at her side, she narrowed her gaze. Her husband would be useless; he'd all but frozen under the strain of these last few months. If she was a mindmelder, he was a true healer of the soul. The very idea of the amount of death and destruction had all but rendered him useless. Men, who had run the Outsider society for generations and all but destroyed it with ego and competition, were decidedly lacking in ideas for getting them out of this mess. It was going to be the women who helped it survive. Let's face it, she mused, sometimes you just couldn't beat a prophesized destiny, no matter how hard you tried.

The Great One, the unofficial leader of the Outsiders, had prophesized eighteen children would be born together--they had, all of the children born on that fateful night were proof of that--and one born far away. The lone child would destroy the Outsiders and after that the entire world, if the eighteen could not be taught to stop him.

Somehow, these children had to grow up. It was imperative. Even more importantly, it seemed, the eighteen born to the Outsiders each came with a soul mate within the group. Someone else they were connected to, whose power would enhance their own.

Larissa wasn't a prophet--she left that to the Great One and his ilk--but she'd be hugely surprised if Charma and Melster were not meant to be together. Beyond the fact that they were so strikingly similar physically, Larissa had seen into each of their minds. She'd taken a peek, and somehow they were the same. The energy that was generated from their brains that resonated into their souls was strikingly similar. Both of them would be healers, although if Melster took after his family, it would be of the physical nature rather than emotional or mental healing. It was likely they would also share a tendency towards self-evaluation that both families possessed. Even more so, however, she'd seen a 'sameness' about their auras. Something that told her they were meant to be together.

She suspected that Melster's mother thought the same thing, which was why the other woman had suggested they journey together. Larissa was going to need Tatiana now. They'd have to be strong together, especially since she was going to suggest to one of her oldest friends that it was time to send their children away. As full blown 'healers', and even Larissa's telempathic abilities fell under this Outsider heading, she and her husband Morgan had no offensive powers to speak of. If it came to violence, she could use her hands and feet to fight but had no magical abilities that could cause another pain. Because of this, she was used to having to flee.

She tapped lightly on the makeshift door that had been made in the cave to give the illusion of privacy. Illusion was really what it was. If anyone sneezed, you heard it.

"Come in," Tatiana answered, her voice strained in a manner that told Larissa her friend was stressed but trying to appear calm.

Larissa pushed forward and although the door was light, it felt like she had the weight of the world in her hands, making the simple task next to impossible. Finally moving into the room, she immediately recognized the comfy surroundings Tatiana had created for her small family.

A full size bed sat in the corner, not as luxurious as the one her friend had left back home, but functional and, Larissa imagined never having sat on it, comfortable. Next to it, a few feet away, was the wooden crib Troy, Tatiana's husband, had constructed for the baby when he'd found out she was pregnant. He'd had to use it much sooner than he'd thought as the baby had come a full two months early. They'd been terrified that the child would be ill and not live long in the world and yet he'd been born full sized and perfectly healthy. Just another oddity that revealed the truth of the prophecy.

Tatiana stood up from the wooden chair she'd been sitting on while holding the baby. She held up a hand that indicated she wanted quiet and crossed with her sleeping son to the crib. Placing him down gently, she took a few seconds to adjust the blankets over the cherub-looking baby before moving to where Larissa waited.

"I know what you're going to say, and I just can't face it."

Larissa shook her head. "I doubt very much you know what I'm going to say unless you've suddenly developed a prophetic power I know nothing about."

Tatiana laughed, which had been the purpose of the wild statement Larissa had made. "No, of course not. Tell me then, did you not come to suggest we need to run again? They might have just been wolves last night, not necessarily carriers of His message." The other woman sighed. "I can't face running again."

Nodding, Larissa sat down in the chair Tatiana had vacated. She fiddled with her skirt to give herself a moment to ground herself. What she was going to suggest was the hardest thing she'd ever said aloud.

"I can't run anymore either. It goes against every Outsider instinct I have. We may look human, but we are not. Even humans get tired of running after a while; we lose patience with it much faster."

"So what do you suggest?"

Larissa almost laughed. Tatiana had always had a way of cutting through hidden agendas and messages to get to the truth within. She wasn't going to give Larissa a break, even now.

"I think we need to send the children away from us."

There, she'd said it. She'd put that thought out to the universe. Now they would have to see what would happen.

Tatiana scoffed, her eyes narrowing. Larissa could see her friend's objections all over her face and in her brown eyes. "That's ridiculous. Where would we put them? Who could protect them if not us? Well, in your case..." Her friend trailed off, realizing what she was about to say. Larissa didn't need her to finish her thought; she knew exactly what she would have said.

"Well in our case we can't save our daughter even if we wanted to. Was that what you would have said?" Even though she knew it to be true, she wanted Tatiana to admit to it. Larissa rose from her seat to be the same height as Tatiana, eye contact was important.

Tatiana sighed, her shoulders slumping, and Larissa lost some of her anger. They were all under an enormous amount of stress. Tatiana finally spoke. "You don't have any offensive powers. You know that's true. We all dance around the subject, but let's just face facts. Neither you nor Morgan can wield magic that can even wound, let alone kill."

"That's true." Larissa nodded. "Remember, Tatiana, even the most gentle creatures can kill when provoked to save their young." Clasping her hands in front of her, she tried to move on from this subject. "I would beat with a bat someone who came at Charma, until they were broken and bloody like the most meager human, if I had to. Besides, Morgan and I have always thought it was just as important to outthink our enemies as to win in a physical battle."

Larissa had seen enough of what stupid brawn and pride could do. It was what had gotten them into this mess to begin with.

The Great One had prophesized that eighteen children would be born together and one apart. The eighteen were the world's saviors. Each having a soul mate, they would battle the child born apart. He was, this lonely baby, evil personified. It was also said he was a demon from another dimension. Larissa sighed. They'd seen so much death, so much destruction. They didn't want to see it happen to their children--even if it seemed ridiculous to think that eighteen children could be born together. There weren't that many women pregnant. So they had tried to thwart destiny and in the end they had made it come true. Without the knowledge of the Great One or Abraxas, their elected leader kept separate from the religious overtones of the Great One, they'd called forth earth magic. The idea had been to bring the evil to earth and trap it within magical means that would prevent it from ever being born.


If you are interested in purchasing Love Beyond Sanity, it can be found here and with all 3rd party sellers.


Best

RR

Monday, October 3, 2011

Blog-a-Thon!


 It's October...

                                    that means Halloween is around the corner.


Our annual Blog-a-Thon will take place on the weekend of Oct. 29-30.

Tons of prizes.

Grand Prize will be winners choice:

A Kindle Touch, or a Nook wifi, or 100$ gift certifate to either Amazon or Barnes and Noble.

Mark your calender.

Every hour a new blog.

Every hour a new contest to enter.



I'm blogging about my need for vampires at my blog today.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

WIN A COPY of Enchanted Destiny by Rayka Mennen

Kat never believed she’d fall victim to her family’s stories about destined soul mates—she makes her own fate, thank you very much. When she walks by a construction site and admires the same sexy architect for the zillionth time in a week, the last thing she expects is to be slammed by a vision of his death.

Which activates the spell that will change their lives forever.

Jake is a single dad with a singular focus—create a stable life for him and his son. His ex-wife cured him of any desire to fall in love, but when an intriguing woman saves him from what should’ve been a deadly accident, he can’t shake his fascination. Too bad she’s crazy, claiming she’s a witch and that they’re soul mates—not exactly the “stable life” he had in mind.

Kat’s destiny comes with a deadline. If they don’t fall in love by her twenty-fifth birthday—a mere three weeks away—Jake will never find the peace he seeks and Kat will lose her magic forever.

I think you’ll love Jake—he’s just your handsome, single dad, chugging along dealing with real life when Kat comes into his life proclaiming to be a witch. He’s so attracted to her but—she’s crazy. Right? And Kat would have liked nothing better than for this destiny to have passed her by—and if it did have to visit, why choose a skeptical engineer? I had so much fun writing about their journey to their HEA.

Enchanted Destiny is available at all major e-book sellers. Rayka Mennen is giving away one free copy. Leave a comment or question for her—she’ll stop by during the day.

* * * *

If Rayka Mennen has failed to see the little fairies dancing under the toadstools, it’s because she wasn’t looking hard enough. She writes romance because she believes. She writes for the sheer joy of creating and sometimes, in the process, discovers new worlds and friends. Be it in the country seat of the saturnine Duke, or in the slightly off center world of the reluctant contemporary witch, the humdrum existence of the forty-something single mom, the fantasy realm of seers and mages, or the deadly double-life of the secret agent, Rayka offers every
reader something to tickle their fancy, to fuel their daydreams, or inspire their own fantasy.


Saturday, October 1, 2011

Edits.

Not something I love to do, but a necessary thing. I just finished my second round of edits for Seducing Liberty, and now it's off to lines. Yay! I've also been working some critiques and I find I'm not the only one prone to these "common" errors.

Some of the common errors the editor finds, and in no particular order:
  • Echoing words. For the current story it, seemed to be the word, ocean.
  • Misplaced commas and punctuation. (Waves hand. Guilty as charged.)
  • Run on sentences. Please feel free to stop and punctuate, especially if you can't read through it with one breath. If your turning blue, you might want to break it up. Often authors keep going, not realizing they're doing this. Oh, and if you have to use a semi-colon (;),you can break it into two sentences.
  • Incomplete sentences. (I do understand that sometimes it's done on purpose, but the overuse of this technique causes the story to become confusing and scattered.)
  • Modifiers. Evil little words an author tacks on to nouns and verbs to try to strengthen them. They slow the pace of a story unlike anything else, ie, the old woman ignited the C4 and the door suddenly blew up loudly. How about:  The crone ignited the C4 and the door exploded. Rule of thumb, if it needs a modifier, the noun or verb can usually be replaced with something stronger. Not saying modifiers don't have their place, they do, but in moderation. If you have to use one, use only one to modify that noun or verb. No icy, dark nights.
  • Wordiness. This is what someone means when you need to "tighten" your story. The example above is also wordy. What do I mean. Well night is usually dark, right? So, can't we simply call it night and assume the reader understands it's dark? Here's another I see quite a bit:  He nodded his head or she shrugged her shoulders. You can simply say, he nodded, or she shrugged. The rest is understood unless, of course, he has more than one head to nod or she's a Siamese twin.
  • Inactive phrasing. If the verb doesn't relate directly to the noun, it's inactive. When you see the words "been"  and "was" in your manuscript, you're using inactive words. Instead of they had been running all night, or he was running, try, they ran all night or he ran. Also pay attention to the verbs. Verbs ending in "ing" are more inactive than verbs ending in "ed".
  • Show, don't tell. She felt sad--telling. Her eyes watered and her lip quivered--showing.
  • Last but not least, get a second set of eyes on your story before you submit it to an agent or publisher. I can look at somebody's story and often spot the items I mentioned above with little effort, but I'm blind to it in my own work. It's really funny how you don't see it when it's your own story. And those little errors my friends, could mean the difference between getting a contract or not.
  • Oooh, I guess that wasn't last. Feel free to use spell check, but hey, remember it's not perfect. Some words that sound the same, can be spelled different, ie too and to, there, they're, their and it's and its. I highly recommend a Strunk and White to anyone not sure of when to use one or the other. I have one. Nuf said.

Thanks for stopping by,
Have a great Saturday.

D L Jackson