Archive for October, 2019


( decor with pumpkins – Depositphotos )

I can remember quiet weekends even though we rarely have them. When my boys were in school, I worked retail, so there was no such thing as quiet weekends, because normally, I would be at work. When they were younger, I was home, so weekends were a normal day for me. These days, they’re in their own place, and I have weekends off, though there are errands and chores that don’t get done during the week. So occasionally, I like a weekend when I can stay home, maybe do laundry and cook once. Those weekends are few and far between–I don’t see one in my near future. Next weekend, I have somewhere to be one day, same the following weekend…the weekend after that will be day-job overtime one day and something fun the next, so possibly the following weekend, which is Thanksgiving weekend here in the U.S. I’ll be ready for a break by then, I think.

While I’m daydreaming about a lazy weekend with plenty of time for reading and writing, I’ve got a few more chores to wrap up before I can call it a day. I have a little snippet of story for you, from my Common Elements Romance Project novella.

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Lucie had been on Mac’s Light Island for almost three weeks, but the view from the back door of her temporary home still took her breath away. Right now, she realized she’d been standing there staring, slack-jawed, at the sunlight glinting off the bright blue ocean waves for a good five minutes. Shaking her head, she pulled the door shut and stepped down onto the sidewalk, feeling in her purse for her car keys.

She closed her fingers on the fob as a giggle reached her ears. She turned to the white picket fence that bordered the property next door as a big multi-colored ball sailed over it, toward her. “Oh no!” She caught it before it hit her in the face and started across the grass, balancing the ball on her hand.

Another giggle sounded as she neared the fence, and she adjusted her direction a tiny bit, so she came to a stop, looking directly down onto a tousled blond head.

“I think you lost something,” she said.

The little boy’s face tipped up quickly, his blue eyes wide with surprise–as if he couldn’t believe she’d found him so easily.

Lucie grinned and held the ball higher.

He smiled as he got to his feet, brushing off his jeans-clad knees.

From seeing him playing outside several times already, she’d guessed he was three or four, but now that she was seeing him at closer range, she scaled that back to three.

“Hi, I’m Hayden,” he said, holding out his right hand.

It was her turn to be surprised. She shook his hand, bemused. “Hi, Hayden, I’m Lucie.” Not too many three-year-olds had such good manners. Aside from the ball toss at her face, that is. “Nice to meet you.”

He glanced up at his ball. “Me an’ my dad are your neighbors.”

“I see that.” She noted he hadn’t mentioned his mom. “Who were you playing with?” She gave the ball a little bounce.

“Maybe you wanna play with me.” Big blue eyes locked on her face.

Ah. She squelched the pang in her chest. “I wish I could, but I’m on my way to town. Maybe we could play another time?” she added when his grin vanished.

“Like this afternoon?”

“Hayden!”

The deep voice got her attention–and the little boy’s–just before a tall, sandy-haired man rounded the back corner of the next-door house.

Lucie’s mouth went dry. Wowza!

He frowned when he saw them, but his stride never slowed, just changed direction, toward them at the fence. “Hayden, we have to go to Grandma’s.” He stopped close to the boy. “You were supposed to stay on the porch.” His brown gaze lifted to her face. “I’m Nate Baxter.”

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What do you do when you have a weekend with no to-do list? I have plenty of ideas of my own, but am always open to more. Meanwhile, I might want to pretend I’m back at the beach, like last weekend for our writing retreat.

 

 

 

As we speak, my suitcase is half-packed to head out in a couple of hours for an overdue writing retreat at the beach with one of my writing buddies! The red flag is probably flapping in the wind there, too, right now, but by the time we get there, it should have settled down to a milder breeze, and the rest of the weekend looks amazing. Cool, but gorgeous. I cannot wait!

While I finish packing, I have a little story snippet to share with you from Hunting Medusa.

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Kallan Tassos sat at the foot of the mountain, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel of the rented truck. Getting to the Medusa had been a lot easier than he’d been led to believe. He wondered why.

She was also a lot prettier than he’d imagined.

Sure, he knew the original Medusa had been so beautiful and confident she’d angered a Goddess. But this one wasn’t what he’d expected. She had short, dark hair framing very expressive blue eyes. Somehow he’d imagined long, blonde hair for a woman whose hair turned into snakes. And cold eyes like those very reptiles. Maybe not with a mouth that made him wonder how she’d taste.

He frowned, tapping his fingers faster on the wheel. Someone had left out a lot of details in the legends. Or the reality had changed much in the generations since the last Harvester had done his duty in killing the monstrous Medusa.

He shook his head. No, his imagination was simply working overtime. And when he got home to Baltimore—or even when he went to Greece to visit Uncle Ari at the family’s ancestral home—he needed to find a willing woman, as it had clearly been too long if he was finding his quarry so attractive.

When his phone rang, he hesitated for a second at the name on the tiny screen. He finally thumbed the button after the third ring. “Stavros.”

“I hear you may have a promising lead. It is past time one of us killed this monster.” His cousin’s everyday accent thickened when he was excited, and judging by the way Greece flavored his words, he believed they were getting close.

“I’m sure one of us will,” Kallan said mildly, drumming his fingers on his knee.

“I keep imagining taking her head after all this time. Perhaps before I do, I can make her pay a little for her family’s existence.”

Kallan frowned. Stavros didn’t care who knew about his penchant for cruelty.

“Where are you now?”

Again he hesitated. He rarely lied, and never to his family. “Oklahoma. I’ve found some information on a young woman closely related to the last Medusa that perfectly fits our profile.” He didn’t feel bad about the lie, since he knew his cousin would be there within twenty-four hours if he told him where he really was and that he’d found the Medusa.

“Where are you heading?”

“Northeast.” He hoped Stavros would be satisfied with the vague answer for now. But he didn’t want his cousin breathing down his neck. Stavros had a vicious streak miles wide, had ever since they were children and just beginning to explore and use their individual talents in their hunt for the Medusa. Kallan could undo any lock with just a touch. Stavros could sense and undo any magical spell he found in his path. When they were teenagers, Kallan had seen him use his magical skill to kill innocent animals just because they were nearby. On occasion, he’d used any handy weapon or his bare hands, simply because he could. Kallan knew Stravros’s cruelty had intensified in recent years based on things not only Stavros had mentioned, but whispers from his other cousins. While he knew as well as everyone else in his family the sort of monster the Medusa was, he didn’t think it necessary to make her suffer the way Stavros would. Especially now that he’d met her.

“Ah. Well, I wish you luck in your hunt, Cousin. Goddess bless our quest.”

He repeated the mantra, then thumbed off the phone, thinking. Hopefully his cousin would take the lack of a specific answer to mean Kallan was simply searching and not really onto a solid lead. That would keep Stavros on his own hunt and out of Kallan’s way.

He smiled grimly, turning the key in the ignition. Now he had plans to finalize. Supplies to purchase. He put the truck in gear and steered the vehicle back toward Ellsworth.

Now that he’d found her, the Medusa would die by his hand.

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Where would you go today if you could get away from every day life, just for a long weekend?

 

 

Hello, everyone! I am happy to say we have a returning guest this week, with a quick interview and a hot excerpt of her shiny new release, The Viscount’s Pet. Welcome back, Kryssie Fortune!

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Quick Fire Quiz:

Does writing energize or exhaust you?

Definitely energize. I get bad tempered if I don’t do something to inch my writing forward every day.

 Ballpoint or fountain pen?

Ball point. I write in a notebook, type up, then read it through before moving on to the next chapter.

What time of the day is best for you as a writer? 

Anywhere, anytime. If I have a free moment I put pen to paper. A lot of my early writing was done on the bus on the way and from work.

Who are three of your favorite authors?

Kresley Cole, Georgette Heyer, and  currently J.S. Scott. The last one changes but I’ve loved the other two for years.  ,

Which book – of all the books you’ve written – do you like the best? 

Always the one I’m working on. I’m proud of Taken as Theirs because it was my first book to hit the top ten on its category. I love regency romance, and I love my latest very hot Regency romance. Georgette Heyer would be turning in her grave.

How do you research your locations?

Internet and visits. A lot of my books are set in Yorkshire, England. That’s my home county. For my Westhorpe Ridge series, I hounded friends in North Carolina to check details. For my current WIP I visited Lindisfarne in Northumberland to scout the island. (Any excuse for a weekend break with my husband.)

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Long Blurb

When her brother tries to force her into a marriage with a detestable baron, Julianna Halstead flees the family estate she has helped manage since the death of her parents. But as she makes her escape late at night, Juliana’s carelessness nearly results in her being trampled by a galloping horse, and the steed’s handsome rider takes it upon himself to correct her right then and there.

Though having her bottom bared and soundly spanked on the side of the road leaves Juliana blushing crimson, the punishment arouses her intensely and her body’s helpless response cannot be hidden. To make matters worse, the gentleman over whose lap she was so firmly chastised turns out to be none other than Viscount Stonehurst, someone she has known since childhood.

When Stonehurst learns of Juliana’s predicament, he decides to make her his bride. She will be no ordinary wife, however. She will be something much more shameful. But even as she is leashed, collared, and put on display in a cage wearing only a tail, then brought out to be used in ways no proper lady should enjoy, will Juliana come to love her new life as the viscount’s pet?

Publisher’s Note: The Viscount’s Pet is a stand-alone novel which shares the Regency-era setting of Wickedly Used and His Innocent Bride. It includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

Excerpt (Hot):

The horse and rider appeared from nowhere.

Julianna sidestepped and dropped her bag. Her ankle twisted beneath her, and she tumbled to the ground. When the horseman tugged hard at the reins, the coal-black stallion reared, its forelegs pawed the air. She screamed and closed her eyes. Curled into a ball, she waited for its ebony hooves to pulverize her.

The rider swore, the horse whickering as it planted its feet in the dirt by her face. Tiny dust clouds rose from the road. She coughed and crablike, she scuttled to the fallen oak at the edge of the copse. The bracken smelled earthy, and the thick foliage cushioned her bruised ribs.

Her heart beat overtime when the horseman dismounted and stalked toward her. Wearing a black greatcoat and muffler, he towered over her. Grabbing her wrist, he hauled her upright.

Even in the evening twilight, his hair shone the same blue-black as a raven’s wing. His features were familiar, but she had no idea why. One glance at his steeply angled eyebrows and she wondered if he was the devil come to claim her.

Her brother would have grabbed her shoulders and shaken her until her head ached. That or hurled vile insults at her. Instead, the dark horseman’s eyes twinkled with good humor. She couldn’t decide if they were midnight blue or ebony black. Their mysterious depths and sloping eyebrows gave him a demonic air.

His high cheekbones were so sharp Michelangelo could have chiseled them from marble. There was a cleft in his square chin that she wanted to stroke. His broad, kissable lips made her want to lick and taste, but they were set in a stern, disapproving frown. If he smiled, his dark charisma would mesmerize any nocturnal creatures. Bats, foxes, and badgers would flock to his side.

His utter masculinity sent shudders along her spine. Devilish and terrifying, he emanated menace and danger. She should be shaking in fear, but he sparked wicked longings in her soul.

Untouched and innocent, she hated how her nipples pearled and damp heat creamed between her legs. She needed his lips pressed against hers and his hands on her body. For a woman who’d sworn never to marry, that scared her more than his fury. If not for his tight grip on her shoulders, she’d have run off into the night.

Her pulse still raced, but she buried her fear beneath a haughty manner. “Unhand me, sir. I’m late as it is.”

Rather than let go of her arm, he tugged her closer. He smelled of citrus fruits and freshly gathered mint. When her gaze meshed with his, lightning bolts sizzled between them. Head bent, he moved toward her. She puckered her lips in anticipation.

Blinking, he straightened abruptly. “I could have killed you, you little fool.”

Disappointment crushed her soul. Her ribs ached from Kit’s assault and her ankle throbbed from her fall. Sniffing back tears, she thought of her mother’s pampered cat and tried to out-stare him. “My apologies, sir. I should have been paying attention, not daydreaming along in the twilight. Since neither of us is hurt, we can go on our own ways.”

“Not until you’ve learned your lesson,” he snapped.

Pulling free from his hold, she rubbed her wrist. Nervous, she retreated toward her portmanteau, ready to grab it and run. Shooting forward, he hoisted her over his shoulder. The undignified position made her ribs throb. His hand splayed over her rear end, caressing and stroking it as he pinned her in place.

Five steps and he’d carried her back to the tree trunk. Once settled on it, he thrust her over his knee. “Naughty little girls who risk their lives deserve a spanking. And I’m just the man to give it to you.”

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