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( Photo credit: _demare.thibaut_ via Foter.com / CC BY-SA )

I’ve seen a lot of the view above this weekend.  Yes, the weather’s been nice, but when the words are coming, why would I not take dictation, right?  Okay, yes, I did get my regular household chores done yesterday, but still got new words into my manuscript.  Yes, I spent two solid hours in the kitchen today, but I still got to write.  That makes me happy.  I think work is going to be kind of crazy at least the next two days, and possibly longer.  My team at the day-job is short-handed at the moment, and vacation season is going to pick up soon, so my writing time may be impacted a bit.

The weather’s been very nice this week, though I haven’t touched the flower bed yet.  Maybe next weekend?  Today, it was actually hot, which made the kitchen rather unpleasant when I turned the oven on.  But dinner was already planned before I knew it would be 85 degrees.  The warm weather is probably going to have some of my flowers blooming early.  My lilac doesn’t look like the ones below yet, but the buds are much closer to blooming than they should be in the middle of April.  I love the smell, though.  I actually miss the honeysuckle that used to bloom in the neighbor’s yard in the spring–the scent would waft all over the neighborhood, and it reminds me of my grandma, who used to wear a honeysuckle perfume.

( Photo credit: RichardBH via Foter.com / CC BY )

Before I go back to the manuscript, how about a little snippet of tiger shifter?

_______________

But Vivi was climbing into his bed in nothing but a pair of black panties trimmed in grey lace, and looking like he’d kicked her.
He yanked at his already-loosened tie and shrugged out of his blazer. By the time he climbed into bed beside her, Vivi had curled up with her eyes closed and her back to him. He rolled onto his side, sliding his hand down her arm to where her hand covered her belly.
“I’m sorry, Vivi.”

She made an indistinct sound, and her shoulder jerked a little, the rest of her stiff.
He put his face into her hair and inhaled. “I’m not angry at you.”
She didn’t say anything.
“I’ve been worrying about you being so sick, and with the rogues stirring up more trouble, well, I’m being a dick. I’m sorry.”
She exhaled roughly.
“And Berdine evidently tried to call her mom earlier and got hung up on for her trouble.”
Vivi rolled to face him, startling him. “What?” Outrage flared in her golden eyes.
“Mari said she was busy and hung up.” He still wanted to put his fist through a wall, just as he’d wanted to do when India had told him earlier.
“Why would she do that to her child? What kind of woman would–” She stopped. “Never mind.” She glared up at him.

Boris smiled and smoothed a wisp of dark hair back from her cheek. “Because she’s selfish.”
Vivi looked like she wanted to add something more to his observation, but she pinched her lips together instead.
“What did your parents do to you, Vivi?” he asked softly.
Her lips parted, and surprise widened her eyes.

________________

So how did you spend your spring weekend?  Doing lots of work, or playing hooky to enjoy the new season?

 

 

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( Photo credit: Jeremy A.A. Knight via Foter.com / CC BY )

Spring is really here.  I do love spring, with all of the pretty new growth on the trees and shrubs, and the abundance of flowers everywhere.  It feels like everything is new.  Of course not everything is, but why not take the opportunity to make something new?  Some things?  Like new goals.  A new coat of paint in a room that needs freshening up.  Maybe a new resolution in your personal life.  I actually like season changes better for starting new things and setting new goals than the new year.  The new year falls in the middle of winter, so it never feels like the right time to start new things to me.  I don’t know why, and it’s probably silly.  Maybe that’s why I never make New Year’s Resolutions.

New seasons, though, those feel like the right time to start fresh.

I’ve actually been writing like crazy lately, even with the day-job extra busy in the past few weeks.  I get to the office early in the mornings on purpose, early enough to get my giant cup of tea started and get my computer restarted so it’s ready to go when I actually have to start working.  And then I write.  Sometimes I get almost a half hour.  Sometimes it’s less, depending on which of my co-workers comes in early and is chatty.  And then if I get a lunch break, usually half of it is spent writing.  Sometimes more.  Yes, I should take a lunch break every day, but some days things are just too hectic.  But the writing is moving, which is wonderful.

I’ve been working on the fourth shifter story (yes, I know I need to finish rewriting the first one, but editing needs my laptop and I can’t do that at the day-job), and I have about 2/3 of it written.  I know it will need some rewriting and fine-tuning, but it’s moving along really well–I had to stop writing a scene the other day, because the characters are in a bad place, and it would be bad for me to be sitting at my desk sobbing in the middle of the office.  So I went back to it later.  But I’m pretty happy with it.  And I’m getting a better idea of things that still need to change in the first three stories in the series.  I know, plotting would help that, but my brain doesn’t work that way.

But as long as the writing is going well, I’m good.  I’ll keep going, with occasional breaks for rewrites.  I was going to wonder why I didn’t schedule any vacation days yet, but then I remembered I’m trying to hoard them for family emergencies this year.  So I’ll keep going with the time I get before and during the day-job and on the weekends and be happy for it.  Though I am still trying to refigure my writing goals for the year–which would be easier if I could decide whether I want to try to self-pub Hunting Medusa and the two follow-up stories, or try to market them elsewhere.

For now, though, I hope you’re enjoying early spring as much as I am, and here’s hoping for some fresh successes for all of us!

c 2090 Renee Silverman
Temecula August 2009

( Photo credit: Renee Silverman via Foter.com / CC BY-ND )

 

 

 

It actually feels like spring today.  Looks like it, too.  Okay, so it’s a little too soon for the snapdragons, but because I love them, I’m keeping them.  The mini daffodils that were blooming under the snow a couple weeks ago are still blooming in the flower bed, but they’re very lonely.  Still, it was nice enough today to open the kitchen window while I had the oven on, just so the house didn’t feel like an oven.

I think the craziness at work may settle down a little this week, so my fried brain will have a chance to recover.  I didn’t get a single thing accomplished yesterday.  Nothing.  So all of the weekend household chores had to happen today.  Which is why dinner was a one dish affair, prepped and stuffed into the oven hours ago.  The laundry is ongoing, but will be done soon, too.  Which means a little writing maybe, before The Walking Dead season finale.

I mentioned elsewhere that I’ve always looked forward to the season finale for this show–it’s been one of my favorites since it started–but this season has made me consider giving it up.  Actually, that isn’t true.  This started at the end of last season when the finale consisted of the characters driving around and around to avoid blocked roads instead of going home, until the bad guy got them.  The story is dragging, characters I’ve loved have been doing really stupid things, and the bad guy is rampaging all over, unchecked.  I hate it.  So I have a lot riding on tonight’s extra-long episode.  I want to love it again.  It would suck to have invested seven years of my television viewing in it and have to quit now.

But because I’ve been hating the writing all season, it’s been good for one thing, anyway–making me take a look at my own writing.  Am I keeping the story moving?  Are my characters behaving like morons or the intelligent humans I’ve claimed they are?  That probably wasn’t what the show’s writers were going for, but at least it hasn’t been a total waste of my Sunday nights since October.  I probably wouldn’t mind so much, except it is the only show I watch live anymore.  We got rid of our satellite service last year (which replaced cable eons ago), and went to streaming services instead–why pay for so many channels we’re not watching, right?–but we had to find a way to still see this one show.

So I’m crossing my fingers, but not holding my breath.  And in the meantime, I’ve got some writing time till that starts, and I’m going to make good use of it.  But before I go, how about a little snippet of tiger shifter #1?

________________

Harley felt better since he’d made up his mind. When he pulled up in front of the house, Tessa was just climbing out of her car.
He grinned and shoved his own door open. “Hey, Tessa.”
She stopped walking at the front step. “Hi, Harley.” She looked tired. Aside from the dark smudges beneath her eyes, she was too pale.
“Take pity on me.” He strode toward her.
She frowned, shifting her weight to one side. “What?”
“I’m starving. Don’t make me eat alone.”
“Harley, I really just–”
“Come on, honey. It’s only dinner. Somewhere casual, so you don’t even need to change.” She’d never seen him relentless before, but he could go there if necessary.
Clearly, she wanted to refuse.
“You need some supper, too.”
“Oh, Harley.” She sighed. “All right, but just something quick. I’m exhausted, and I wanted to go over to the house to do some clean-up.”
Point to Harley. He caught her elbow and steered her to his car. “When did you eat last?” He eased her into the passenger seat.
She frowned. “I don’t know. Last night, maybe. No, I had a granola bar earlier while I was in a meeting with Amy and David.”
He tsked at her. “You’re probably starving, too.” He closed the door, mentally congratulating himself for getting this far. And with far less hassle than he’d anticipated. She must really be tired.
He slid into his own seat and started the car again. “Anything in particular you’re hungry for?” He sneaked a sidelong glance at her and found she’d leaned her head back on the seat.
“It really doesn’t matter. We can go wherever you like.”

All sorts of inappropriate ideas sprang to mind, but he kept them to himself. It was far too soon to share those. “All right. Did you have a better day today?” Small talk. He could manage that till they got to the restaurant.
By the time he pulled into a parking space at Botticelli’s, Tessa had roused herself to polite conversation, and Harley thought this evening might turn out pretty well.

_________________

Here’s hoping for a great week ahead for all of us!

Yesterday was a very lovely day, though it was spent on household chores rather than enjoying the nice weather.  Today wasn’t as lovely, which was just as well, as I went in to the day-job to start my crazy week early.  The rest of the week should be warm, but I think rainy, which seems fitting, since the calendar is about to roll over into April by the weekend.

( Photo credit: Thomas James Caldwell via Foter.com / CC BY-ND )

There are flowers blooming, and there is even a magnolia tree at the office that had flowers opening a couple of weeks ago when we got the first rush of warm spring weather (before the snow finally came).

So what will I be doing this week?  Working like a crazy person at the day-job, and, hopefully, getting in some writing time if my brain doesn’t turn to complete mush.  Last week was almost as crazy, but I still managed new pages in the mornings, before starting at the office, and a little during lunch breaks mid-week, so I’m hoping I can do the same this week.  I’m actually ready for a vacation, I think.  Too bad I didn’t schedule one until the end of July.

I think I’m ready for spring, since my winter was a total bust.  The only trouble with it being spring is that means summer will follow close behind, and you know how I feel about summer.

Once we get through this week and next at the day-job, the craziness will abate for a little while, which is nice.  And I’ve had some good news about the friends I was worrying about.  Both have made it through their surgeries, well, so now they just have to be patient about recovering.  A little stress off my plate.  The ill family members are still worrying me, though I know worrying is a waste of energy.

So how do you stop yourself, or at least distract yourself from fruitless worrying?  I could use a few pointers.  And maybe you would like a snippet of a tiger shifter and her wolf?

_______________

 

India wasn’t sure how she made it through the meal. She didn’t taste anything, couldn’t even concentrate on the food she put in her mouth.
All her attention was on the man sitting too close to her, the fresh, wild scent of him driving her slowly mad, the feel of his warm fingers on her back reinforcing the throbbing in her belly, his hard thigh pressing against hers all through the meal.
She should never have agreed to meet him for dinner. What the hell had she been thinking? She needed to get out of here.
Rory’s big hand settled on her nape again. “You’re not eating, love.”
She stifled a little shiver. When he called her that, it had always made her melt, and she needed not to do that. Not tonight. Not ever again. “I’m not hungry.” She finally set the fork on the side of her plate.
“I was hoping to share dessert with you,” he teased, leaning closer so his warm breath brushed the top of her ear.
Heat burst in her middle at that. They’d shared many desserts, a long, long time ago. Damn him. “I can’t eat anything else.”
“Then maybe a walk.” He tipped his head to look at her, and she couldn’t look away.
“I need to go home.”
Instead of looking disappointed, Rory smiled, his bright eyes knowing. “Then I’ll walk you to your car.”
That was too easy. She frowned up at him, trying to figure out what was going on in his head.
He gave her nape a stroke, fingers and thumb coming together at her spine, that made her suck in a shaky breath. “Let’s go.” He reached into his pocket and took out some money, then pushed his chair back without releasing her. He held out his free hand.
If she took it… She tipped her head back to meet his gaze, unsurprised to see the heat flare in his eyes. Gathering her courage, she put her hand in his.
Rory pulled her to her feet, and into his arms.
She knew this was a mistake.
His hand slid down from her nape to the small of her back and settled, while his eyes darkened. “Come, love ,” he said softly after a moment, his hand slipping away from her spine, though he kept his other hand wrapped tight around hers.
And she let him. Just for a minute.
Or until they got outside.
Or maybe, she thought when they stepped out into the warm evening, until they got to her car.
His hard fingers were relaxed around hers, but she knew if she tried to withdraw, they’d tighten quickly, like a trap on a rabbit.
She had no intention of withdrawing her hand from his. She wanted just this little while. This moment would have to hold her for a very long time again.

_______________

Hope you all have a great week!

 

 

Evidently my snow from earlier in the week is all I’m getting this year, as it’s warmed up so much that there are huge patches of grass and much smaller patches of snow in the yard.  There are miniature daffodils in the side bed that are on the verge of blooming in spite of the snow.

( Photo credit: Derek N Winterburn via Foter.com / CC BY-ND )

So instead of wishing we’d had a better winter, a more wintry winter, I’ve moved on, I surrender to the inevitable .  I do love spring, with all the flowers, including tulips, which are my very favorite, and the lilacs that smell so wonderful.  And for me, the change of season this year is a fresh start, kind of like the new year, with revised writing goals since my original goals for the year didn’t include finding a new home for Hunting Medusa.

Do you take the chance to start fresh when the seasons change?  Setting new goals for the new season?

Before I head back to my writing, I have a little snippet of the first tiger shifter for you.

_______________

Tessa wasn’t sure if she should be scared or not when he guided the car into the family compound a little later. Back to the house. She hadn’t thought this far.
She couldn’t do that.
Not after everyone in the house had watched them leave together.
She shut her eyes. Her body hummed, too hot, too aware. Harley hadn’t stopped touching her, whether he was brushing his fingers over hers, or settling his heavy hand on her knee or her thigh.
The car stopped moving and shut off, and she realized he’d just driven to the guest house. Far enough away from his family to be alone. No audience.
“Don’t move.” He released her knee.
Like her legs would hold her up to go anywhere. She opened her eyes slowly, inhaling deeply to try to calm her pulse a bit.
Then her door opened, and Harley’s hand caught her wrist.
Her heart beat faster again. She met his gaze and couldn’t look away.
The heat in his golden eyes stole her breath.
“Those shoes are very pretty,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “but it’s a shame you can’t run in them.” He pulled her out of the car and into his arms. He scooped her up against his chest, and she braced herself with one hand on his shoulder. “But we’ve waited long enough.” He kicked the door shut and strode to the house.
Tessa swallowed.

She was really doing this.
Harley.
He carried her inside, never stopping until they reached the master suite at the back of the house, and then he set her on her feet.
She realized she was breathing much too quickly, that her pulse thumped crazily in her ears. And excitement pumped through her with every beat of her heart.
Harley turned on the light beside them, then yanked the blankets down on his way around the bed to turn on the light on the opposite night stand, too.
Then he faced her, smiling. And shrugged out of his blazer.
She heard it swish to the floor behind him.
Then he started undoing the buttons on the front of his shirt, watching her instead of what he was doing. “Take off your dress, Tessa.”
Her mouth went dry. Her knees knocked. Holy shit.
He held her gaze as he unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way, baring more of his wide, tawny chest. “You like what you see?” He grinned at her, shrugging out of the shirt and dropping it carelessly to the floor, too. “I know you do. I can see your pulse racing there, in the hollow of your throat. You’d better get that pretty dress off, or it’s going to get torn.”

His conversational tone made her panties even wetter as her brain flashed images of him carrying out the sexy threat.
“Tessa.” His tone remained even, but the heat in his eyes flared hotter. “Take it off. Now.”
_______________

( Photo credit: azjeepmusclestud via Foter.com / CC BY-ND )

That is a fair representation of Harley in that scene, I think.

On that note, have a good week!

 

 

 

Since last week, the weather forecasters have been talking about this huge snowstorm headed our way, and how we would be getting a massive amount of snow.  When I went to bed late last night, we were still supposed to have about a foot of snow on the ground by morning, with another 8-12″ still to come.  Ha!  When my boss texted me early this morning to say the office was closed, it was sleeting, and it continued to sleet for about four more hours before changing back over to snow.  The sun has been out a couple of times now, though it is snowing again, lightly.  This is my ‘snowstorm’ accumulation…

Not all that impressive.  I think if it hadn’t changed to sleet early this morning, we might be a lot closer to where the forecast promised we would be by this afternoon.  Oh well.  I think this is all the snow I’m getting this year.

On the other hand, even though my snowstorm was a bust, the extra paid day off has been good for doing some necessary clearing out, and even some writing, which I’m aiming to get back to soon.

I need to redo my goals list for the year, too, though that will wait till the weekend, because it’s going to be a pretty massive redo, since my original list didn’t involve figuring out what to do with my book when my publisher went out of business.  I still haven’t made up my mind if I will head into the big, scary world of self-publishing to re-release Hunting Medusa, or if I will see if another publisher may be interested in it and the two other books in the trilogy.   Either is nerve-wracking.

But today, I am working on my tiger shifter.  He’s not ready yet for public consumption, but I have a snippet from the second tiger shifter story I think might be suitable for a cold, snowy March afternoon.

_______________

Then his pale blue gaze swung back to her face, and she couldn’t look away.
Holy hotness!
Even though she couldn’t pull her gaze away from his sky-blue eyes, she still noticed his rumpled white-blond hair brushed back from his face, the sharp angles of his cheekbones, and the width of his shoulders beneath a red polo shirt.
Wowza.
Vivi swallowed and dragged her gaze away finally. It landed on her drink, and she picked it up, taking a sip to wet her dry lips.
A tiger.
She needed to get away before her hormones got any happier. She put the glass down on the bar and sat back in her seat.
“Don’t let me chase you away,” the blonde said, his voice a low rumble that made her stomach clench.
She glanced toward him, but didn’t meet his eyes. “You’re not. I’ve just had a long day, and it’s time to go.”
“Without any supper?” He turned on his stool a little to face her.
Oh Gods. Vivi couldn’t help the flush burning her cheeks. The red shirt stretched over a broad, muscled chest, and it took her a few seconds to force her gaze up to his.
At least his mouth wasn’t curved in a smirk. Though if he’d been smirking or appeared as if he knew exactly what was going on in her head, she’d have found it easier to get off of the stool. “I didn’t actually come in for supper, just a drink with a friend.” She inched to her right.
“Have dinner with me.”
She froze. “What makes you think I’d be a good dinner companion?” she asked after a second.
His mouth relaxed a little, as if he might be on the verge of a smile. “Just a hunch. I’m sure you’re a far better dinner companion than I am. Sorry I bothered you.” He picked up his glass and took a sip of the golden liquid in it.
Vivi studied his profile for a few moments. There was something familiar about it. And something very appealing about him, aside from the face. Especially that, aside from not pushing her to stay, there was something lonely about him. “You know, telling a woman what a terrible date you are isn’t really the right approach. Probably going to bring your success rate down a little.”
He finally smiled, a slow, wide grin that revealed dimples.
Gods, she was a sucker for dimples, dammit.
He met her gaze again and stuck out his right hand. “I’m Boris.”
“Vivi.” She tamped down the little voice in the back of her head shrieking this was a Bad Idea. When his warm fingers wrapped around her hand, she shivered.
“Vivi, would you have dinner with me? You can give me some pointers on how this should work.”
“What the hell.” She was certain she’d regret this later, but it had been a long time…

_______________

I do love Boris, and when I started the first shifter story, I didn’t realize he would be getting one, too.  After all, he was married.  Then his wife turned into a selfish dirtbag and left him and their kids.  Poor Boris.  And lucky Vivi.  Eventually.

Now, I’m heading back to shifter #4, and then maybe making some grilled cheese sandwiches for supper before I write some more.

 

 

 

It was a busy weekend, so I am late.  I know it, and I’m sorry.

( Photo credit: Sean MacEntee via Foter.com / CC BY )

It’s been a rough week here.  I keep thinking that things should settle down, that some of the people in my life who have had bad news should start getting better soon.  So far, not so much.

I had been making pretty good progress on the fourth shifter manuscript in the past week, in spite of all of the distractions and worries.  Even with a few really busy days at work.

But I’m determined to get that forward motion back tomorrow, even if I have to shove all the worry and distraction into a tiny box and lock it in the back of my mind.  Even if it’s only for fifteen minutes.  At least to start.  I can work back up to where I was, and I will.

I do love this shifter hero, too.  He is damaged, and he is protective of the heroine, from the first time they meet, and he is so hot.  Boy, is he hot.  I may do some re-reading tomorrow, just because.  The weather-guessers are saying we might get some snow later this week, which means I will have plenty of time to stay in and dig back into the story.  And then a shiny new blog post as well.  Hopefully one where I can say I’m back to being actually productive again.

Until then, I hope the rest of your week is wonderful!

 

 

 

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( Photo credit: john.schultz via Foter.com / CC BY-SA )

I want to say it’s been a good week.  The beginning sure wasn’t, but the end was much better.  I’ve told you that I have a couple of sick family members, and I have a couple of friends who are going through some very difficult things now as well.  These things take up a lot of space in my thoughts these days, but I am trying not to worry so much about things I cannot control.  So when I have time to write, I am writing.  or editing, depending on the situation.  Today is for both.  Also, I’m watching a strange little movie called The Lovers with Josh Hartnett right now, while I write my blog post for the week.  I’m not in love with the story, but since I’ve invested so much time in it, I have to watch to the end now.  Plus, there is the eye-candy.  But if you haven’t watched it, I’d say even for the eye-candy, find a different movie to watch.  Or maybe re-watch Penny Dreadful instead, if Josh is your eye-candy of choice.

I’m wondering how other people manage to keep working and finding inspiration when there are so many bad things going on around them.  Some days, it’s really difficult not to worry, let alone how to summon up any creativity.  My brain is too full some days, which means I might only get a little work done, not the bigger chunks I hope for.

I think the inside of my brain some days looks like this…

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(  Photo credit: kevin dooley via Foter.com / CC BY )

Now imagine that tangle is moving, about five hundred miles an hour.  That is what my brain feels like some days.  How do you untangle that?  Or at least slow it down when you need to stop thinking so hard about one thing and redirect your brain to something else?   I can do it when I’m reading a great story, tune everything else out.  But with everything that’s been going on since last summer here, I’m finding it more of a challenge to do it otherwise.  But I am still making progress, which is a good thing, though it’s slower than I want.

So, while I go back to rewrites on tiger shifter #1, maybe a little snippet of story for you.

_______________

Of the cats, only the tiger remained.
Smiling, she went inside to visit with him, but he was napping in the far corner of his cage, so instead, she headed for her office and collected her purse. She could get home without having to call for an escort. It was bad enough Joe had dragged himself out of bed early that morning to follow her to work. She didn’t want to get him back out of bed now.
Convinced, she climbed into her car and steered toward home.
It wasn’t until she was about fifteen minutes from the house that she realized the car behind her had been there for a while. She tried to brush away the concern, but her pulse quickened anyway. Stupid. She was just being paranoid, thanks to all this time with Harley and Boris trailing her back and forth.
Except the car got closer when she turned onto the next road.
Tessa frowned in the rearview mirror. “Are you kidding me?” She pressed her foot harder on the accelerator. The car behind her sped up, too. “Dammit.” There was no talking herself out of this now. She steered the car away from home when she got to the next intersection, doubling back in the opposite direction–toward India’s.

The other car kept pace with her, even on the twisting, windy portions of the road. But when she steered onto the route that led to the Wentworths’, the other driver must have finally realized her destination–he sped up again, coming closer and closer to her back bumper.
Tessa’s heart already beat too fast, but now it pumped so hard, her ribs hurt. She accelerated a little more. Then more.
The other car kept pace, even drew nearer.

Her mouth went dry. “Stupid ass,” she muttered.
When he bumped her, her heart stopped beating for a long, painful moment. The car shuddered a little, slipping before regaining traction. She pressed harder on the gas. Almost there–the gate at the end of the drive was just coming into view.
He hit her harder the second time, making the back end of the car swing out to the side, raising dust and gravel on the shoulder of the road.
Tessa realized she’d screamed even as she fought to make the car go where she wanted it to go. When she had it back on the road, she jammed her foot on the gas.

_______________

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( Photo credit: Fraser Mummery via Foter.com / CC BY )

See you next week!

 

I’m still wrapping my head around knowing that in a little over a week, my first book won’t be out in the world anymore.  At least until I figure out what to do with it and its two follow-up stories. I’m still thinking about that, and when I have made a decision and a plan, I’ll be sure to let you know.

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( Photo credit: DenisenFamily via Foter.com / CC BY-ND   )

In the meantime, I’m still working on my shifters, both rewriting the first book (again; I’ve almost reached the point where I hate the characters and the story, so I must be getting close to where it should be, at last!), and scribbling every day  on the fourth book (for a character I had not intended to write a book for, but he kept coming back to me, all broody and hot).

We’ve been having really ridiculously unseasonable weather here in PA this winter, but I’m still holding out hope that we might get a good snowstorm before this is all over.  It’s only February, and we’ve had snow much later than this in our neck of the woods.  I’m going to cross my fingers we get it.

And, while I go back to working on tiger shifter #4 and his winter story, I’ve go a little snippet from Hunting Medusa to share with you.  If you’ve wanted to get a copy, you only have about a week to do that before Samhain closes its doors forever.

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She glanced at him. “I’m fine. You should get some sleep while you can.”
He sighed, but didn’t reply.
She knew he didn’t sleep, though. Not for a long, long time. She stared out into the dark, trying not to think of the things he’d said to her. The accusation he’d made about her family earlier. That one hurt. The other declaration scared the hell out of her.
It also made her heart beat faster with pleasure.
That was not a good thing. She couldn’t have a man in love with her who intended to kill her.
Then again, that same man had also promised he’d die to protect her. He’d already lied to his family to keep her safe.
Kallan Tassos was a lot more complicated than she would have guessed.
Hours later, her brain had simply given up on trying to figure out the tangled mess of her life when she felt his hand on her shoulder. “My turn.”
She didn’t argue this time, getting slowly to her feet and stretching. He kissed the top of her head.

“Get some sleep, meli. I’ll keep watch.” His hand slid down her back, and he nudged her toward the sleeping bag.
Andi kicked off her boots and rolled into the blankets, which were still warm from his body. She inhaled deeply, his scent making her smile a little. He smelled good. She fell asleep thinking that.
When she woke, there was faint light outlining the cave opening where Kallan stood, every muscle tense.
“Is he coming?” She threw back the blankets and grabbed her boots.

“He’s somewhere on the mountain. And he’s got company.” He glanced over his shoulder at her, but it was still too dark to see his expression.
Her heart pounded crazily in her chest, making it hard to breathe evenly. She fumbled with the laces on her boots for a few seconds, then got to her feet. “How long?”
“If they follow our trail from yesterday, five hours or so. If they follow Stavros’s eye for magic, much less.” He moved away from the entrance. “Either way, we need to be gone long before he finds this place.”
She nodded, folding blankets with trembling hands.
“Andrea.” He caught her wrists as she wrestled the sleeping bag into submission.
She looked up and found his eyes dark with concern, but his jaw hard with determination.
“We’ll be fine.”
She swallowed and nodded. “Okay.” She had to trust him on this—that he would get her to safety and not hand her over to his cousin who wouldn’t care if they got the amulet or not before he wiped her off the face of the earth.
After all, he hadn’t killed her over the past few days when it would have been extremely easy.

She paused in her folding at that thought.
The Harvester hadn’t killed her.

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Hope you all have a great week!

 

 

We are missing out on the snow, again.  Our weather here this week has been extra-messed-up–mid-week it was 60, before the temps plummeted and we got a couple inches of heavy, wet snow that melted already, because the temperatures went back up into the 50s.  I want a real winter! Right now, it’s raining and looks like an early spring day more than a mid-winter day.  Of course, if we were a few states north, we would be getting buried in snow, and I would be thrilled about it.

So, what is a rainy Sunday good for?  Plenty, I suppose, like household chores and reading. Or visiting with family.  My day will probably combine some of the latter and a few of that first item.  And hopefully later some writing time before the second half of The Walking Dead season begins and our whole family settles in to watch.

I’m going to miss seeing some reader and writer friends today, but I got to see a whole lot of them yesterday, at the annual Valentine’s Day booksigning.  This was my third year of participating, and they’re always a lot of fun.  Talking books with readers and other authors is one of the best ways to spend a few hours, right?  This one was a little sad for me, though, because earlier in the week, we got the official news that my publisher is going to close up shop at the end of the month.  So I have to figure out what to do with Hunting Medusa (and the other two books in the trilogy, finally!) when I get my rights back.

Most publishers don’t want to publish a book that’s already been available from someone else, though it happens.  A better option, I suppose, is self-publishing the trilogy.  Scary thought!  I have to give this more time, to figure out the best thing to do, and then devising a plan to get it done.   Guess I’ll be reworking my writing goals for the year, once I figure this out.

Now, though, I need to go do some of those things on my rainy-Sunday list.  The pics below are some of what you missed if you weren’t at the booksigning yesterday.

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And, before I go, maybe a little bit of Hunting Medusa for you…

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“Aristotle Tassos.”
The elderly man started, jumping from his chair so the papers he held fluttered to the floor beside his desk.
Athena remained standing in the doorway to his office, watching his olive skin pale before he dropped to his knees, bowing his head.
“My Lady.” His voice shook.
“Your nephew has taken the Medusa away, Aristotle. How could a Tassos do that?” She glared, noting his silver hair was thinning far more than the last time She’d deigned to visit him.
“My Lady?” He straightened slightly, though not far enough to actually look directly at Her. “My nephews burn to kill the Medusa.”
“Not Kallan.” She watched his mouth drop open. “He has helped her escape.” She narrowed Her gaze on his stunned face. “How could you not know this about him?”
Her Harvester shook his head slowly. “I am so sorry, My Lady. I assure You I will find him. And her.”
“I am sure you will. I expect you will.” She set Her hands on Her hips. “Do not fail Me, Aristotle. It has been many years since your family has fulfilled its duty. It may be very bad for you and yours if you fail again.”
Aristotle nodded, bowing, his face flushed a ruddy color. Embarrassed, She was sure, by the reminder of the failures of recent years. Good. He and his should be humiliated to have been outwitted by the Medusas of the past several generations.
“I would hate to have to return to see you on this matter again, Aristotle,” She said, gentling Her tone just a little. “I understand you are loyal to Me, even if one of your number is no longer.”

His mouth tightened. “I will make sure we get her this time, My Lady.”
Athena nodded. “I will be monitoring your progress.”
She was gone before Aristotle looked up.

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Oh, one last thing!  If you’ve been meaning to pick up a copy of Hunting Medusa (or any other Samhain title) you’re running out of time now.  Plus I just realized this morning (2/12/17) that it is on sale in the Samhain store for half price, so it’s probably a really good time to grab it in its original form.

Valentine’s Day is this week, so here’s hoping for a much better week this week, full of love and chocolate!