Sunday Snippet: Whatever it Takes

Hello!

All right, people, I have dire thinky thoughts about two of my favorite shows, Strike Back and Sons of Anarchy, which I won't share here, but suffice to say, it's not looking good for a few characters. EEK!

Thank goodness, Arrow returns in two weeks and I can get my superhero fix again soon. Whew.

Tonight's post is from Whatever it Takes, a novella with magical elements, a gauntlet that can seriously mess with the characters' minds, and a couple who really need to be together, but have some big challenges before it can happen.

Here's the tagline:

Lysanor Bela runs the gauntlet and while she survives the experience, it messes with her mind. She has a vision of killing Baron Saltman—and gauntlet revelations are never wrong. Lys will do whatever it takes to keep Baron alive as long as possible—even if it means walking away from their relationship.

And the preview snippet…

"You need to take baby steps. You can't expect to be the same you were before surviving the gauntlet. It's not that easy, Lys." Baron knelt in front of her.

Lysanor snorted. "Yeah, well, you'd know, wouldn't you?" The man had gained close to fifty pounds in her absence.

Baron frowned. "Yes. Yes I would. Took me a year to get to the state I was in, and I didn't get out of by myself." He rose and stepped back. "Maybe you should think about that for a while."

Her head snapped up. "Oh, so it's my fault you blew up to huge proportions?" It figured he'd blame her, especially when she had no control over how she'd react to the gauntlet.

Baron huffed out a harsh breath. "Geez, Lys, that's not what I meant. If you're going to be pain in the ass difficult, forget I said anything." He turned abruptly and headed for the heavy oak door.

Lysanor had a flash of every single argument she'd ever had with Baron. So many, sometimes ugly and harsh, but he always came back. Always forgave her. And usually forgot her biggest transgressions.

And the man would be brutally honest, whether she liked it or not. She sorta loved that personality trait the most. In short, she needed him on her side.

"Baron, wait." Lysanor sighed. "I'm sorry. It's so much easier to lash out rather than listen. You pushed yourself hard to get back in shape. It's my turn." She looked down at her hands. "And I can't do it alone. Something tells me getting my head back on straight will be a bigger challenge than dropping fifty pounds." She'd most definitely hold back the part of her vision, until she absolutely had to fill him in.

Baron sank down beside her. "Whatever it takes, Lys." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Whatever it takes."

Lys wants to keep Baron safe, but she's got a lot to learn about how very persistent he'll be. Thankfully, Baron has a good head on his shoulders and he'll figure out what her biggest concern involves.

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday Snippet: Utter Not a Word

September 22, 2013

Greetings!

Okay, I have to take a break from mentioning what's going on during my favorite shows to completely toot my horn over making apple butter for the first time and having it turn out totally awesome! Seriously, if it passes the man and kids test, it's pretty much a 'write it down for posterity' kind of deal. LOL

Tonight's post is from Utter Not a Word and it's one of my favorite types of fiction, writing wise. I love to take a word or phrase and set the tone of the whole manuscript with it. In this story, the main characters take something of a journey, growing and stretching until they fit together so well, they have to blend. J

Here's the tagline:

Maren Roth is reeling over the loss of her oldest friend after a skirmish with an opposing faction goes horribly wrong. Wayne Edelman, a superior adept with the responsibility of their sect resting in his hands, offers comfort and support in a very unexpected way and Maren realizes the man has become an expert on reading her moods. With a huge battle brewing, she takes solace in the concept that together with Wayne, they might have a fighting chance at winning.

And the preview snippet…

Maren nudged Wayne with her knee. "Move over."

His eyes blinked open but he didn't argue, scooting to the rear of the berth, letting her crawl in under the covers. She gave him credit. He didn't wrap an arm around her or spoon up against her. And he wanted to, she knew it with certainty. But he'd wait. Bide his time until she relaxed, which might be never, or in five minutes.

She had no clue.

At least she'd sleep. The sound of his breathing would soothe and lull her into slumber. The heat from his body would warm the chill she couldn't quite shake. And the solid, quiet strength of him would prop her up and get her through another night and carry over to the next day. He wouldn't ask how she felt, or if she needed anything, or whether something had gone wrong.

He'd hold back, and let her open up when she could face the situation head on. A new, and frankly odd, experience. Maren didn't know when Wayne got hip to her, when he started to read her moods so damn well she didn't have to speak a word.

But she appreciated it.

Appreciated him.

Someday she'd have to tell him in plain terms.

But not tonight. She craved the comfort and warmth he provided. The safe haven only he seemed able to create.

Reaching out, she found his hand, palm up, and she laced their fingers together. The connection steadied her and soothed her weary heart.

She yawned then sighed, finally letting her mind calm. "Thank you."

Wayne didn't speak. He squeezed her hand then hauled her close, tucking her head under his chin. Maren burrowed close and her eyes drifted shut, the events of the day slowly seeping away under the rhythmic beating of Wayne's heart and his slow, even breathing.

Order from chaos. Courage born of despair. Wayne equaled light at the end of her very dark road and Maren held on, relishing his ability to just be there.

And utter not a word.

I'm not one hundred percent certain how this one is going to work out, but Maren's on the right track. Wouldn't you agree?

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday Snippet: A Magical Affair

Howdy,

Remember when I said I was ready to start marking the death toll on Sons of Anarchy? Totally didn't know it would include so many. Will have to wait until next week's post to note the number, if that's even possible. I admire Kurt Sutter's willingness to make a bold choice and stand by it. He always claims his show doesn't flinch from showing the ugly side of things and honestly, I'm thrilled to see what happens when something the club is involved in bites them on the ass. Hopefully I've made my thoughts clear without giving away too many details. J

Strike Back is almost halfway through its run and my head sorta spins with everything going on. It's one of the things I love about watching. Stonebridge better catch a break soon and he needs to figure out what the hell he got into when he slashed his arm open. Something tells me that seemingly small injury will end up being the key to everything about whatever attack is being planned.

GAH! My shows are eating up too much of my brain. LOL

Moving on…

I have great news! My submission for the Magic and Mayhem special call for Silver Publishing has been accepted. A Magical Affair will be releasing in October!! Tonight's post will have one additional snippet from the manuscript. Enjoy!

Tagline:

A mansion sitting atop an ancient wellspring of magic offers Romy, Heath, and Stacie the chance to live out all their lustful fantasies. Heath is thrilled for the opportunity, but he wants one thing above all…for Romy to give up control and let him call the shots.

And another preview snippet…

Stacie paused before exiting the Enchantment Suite, her hand on the knob, ready to embark on one of Heath's fantasies—a cougar on the prowl, getting bagged and tagged by a hot, young stud. Vivica worked some serious magic, adding at least a decade to her features. A little hesitant, she glanced in the mirror hanging on the wall.

"Not bad, Stace. If you look as smokin' at the actual age of forty, you can totally pull off the cougar thing." Giving her reflection a saucy wink, she opened the door and started for Heath's suite.

Heath. Romy scored a winner with the man. Stacie envied her friend—not in a bitchy way, more in a she-totally-wished-she'd-find-a-guy-like-him kind of way. But Romy had it right—Stacie didn't have illusions of love and forever. Romy trusted her and Stacie wouldn't let her down. She would take the weekend and enjoy.

She doubted she'd ever have another opportunity quite like the one at Magic Meadows.

Pausing outside Heath's suite, she took a moment to smooth the skirt of her frothy dress. About to experience something so far beyond the norm, she inhaled deeply to calm down.

Rapping on the door, her breath caught in her throat, the anticipation almost too much.

A muted voice came from inside. "It's open."

Stacie turned the knob and entered, putting on her best sultry smile.

Glancing at the figure sprawled, naked, on the bed, she licked her lips. Romy's description didn't do Heath justice. A thrill shot straight through her… she would so enjoy this encounter.

Sidling further into the room, she closed the door behind her. "Well… my, my, my… aren't you a prime specimen of manhood." Her eyes raked over his prone form, lingering on every inch of glorious flesh. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for a chance like this."

She didn't want to overdo the sexpot role, but geez, all the exposed skin sort of short-circuited her brain. Not to mention the way his cock hardened when his gaze swept over her. A little shiver of desire made her nipples pucker and she fought the urge to strip and get things started.

Slow it down, Stace. Tease him a little.

She tilted her head sideways. "Do you greet all your lovers this way? Not even a hello?"

She lifted a brow, quite thrilled with the stupefied attention Heath paid her. Vivica's magic seemed to be weaving quite the spell.

Heath Graystone is one lucky man, no? LOL

That's it for this week. Stay tuned for actual release date and cover image.

Skye

Sunday Snippet: The Truth Hurts

Hi!

Okay, I can't discuss Strike Back just yet, but I will say I love shows where NOBODY is safe. Speaking of no one being safe, Sons of Anarchy returns Tuesday and I'm ready to start marking the death toll. LOL

Now for something a little less morbid. Tonight's post is from The Truth Hurts, which yeah, sometimes it can—especially if the characters don't want to admit it. J

Here's the tagline:

Mardi Darr discovers her current lover is an enemy agent with an enchanted chip in his head. She gives the okay for a risky surgery and it lands him in a submersion chamber with no brain activity. Heth Santiago is responsible for Mardi being with Staz and he needs to help Mardi accept the truth…even though it hurts like a bitch.

And the preview snippet…

Heth hated dive bars with a passion, but he had a mission—to seek out Mardi and make sure she had a handle on the day's events and to stop her from doing anything extremely stupid. He shoved the door open and stalked inside, adding a healthy dose of bad ass attitude to his gait. He wanted no part of petty brawling or pissing contests.

He quickly scanned the dim interior and spotted Mardi sitting alone at a table near the back entrance. A half empty bottle of Abernath stood in the center of the surface, keeping a lonely vigil over the shot glass by its side.

Heth sighed. "Great. She's got a jumpstart on a drunk-fest."

Moving forward, he elbowed his way through the crowded area and stopped in front of the table. Mardi glanced up and rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Heth took her response as the only invitation he'd get and snagged a chair from the neighboring corner then dropped down across from her.

Resting his forearms on the surface, he jumped right in with the first part of his self-imposed task. "You okay?" A stupid question after the shit she'd been through, but it broke the ice.

She tilted her head sideways for a moment then downed a shot. "Sure," She shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Heth clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Is that the way you really wanna play this?" He should've known she'd make him push hard. She rarely did anything else.

Mardi poured another round. "How else should I play it, Heth? He wanted to wait." She tossed the green-hued liquor down her throat. "He begged me to wait, but I told the doc to go ahead." She slammed the glass on the table. "And look where it got him."

In a submersion chamber, no brain activity, but still breathing. Heth figured it better than death, but he kept his opinion to himself. Mardi wouldn't take hearing it well at all.

Heth grabbed the shot glass and filled it. "He would've done the same for you." Lifting it to his lips, he drank the fiery liquid down in a gulp.

Mardi lips twisted in a sad smile. "No. No he wouldn't." She snagged the small tumbler from Heth. "In fact, he didn't. He backed every decision I made, without question." She filled the shot and drank.

Heth didn't agree, but, again, refrained from telling her so. Her gaze turned shadowed and she glanced away. Mardi saw the times Staz didn't follow through, too. He didn't question her decided course, but he wouldn't always go along either. When Mardi ordered him to kill her if the Street Hawks attacked—she couldn't fall into their clutches—he made the right response, but he'd never have gone through with taking the shot. Heth had been witness, the guy didn't have it in him to do whatever it took.

Which made what he turned out to be—an enemy plant in their camp—harder for Mardi to deal with. Even though Staz had no idea he'd been spellbound to protect her at all costs, it didn't make the bitter taste any easier to swallow.

Heth had to cut her some slack. "Except when those decisions involved you." He left the topic there—no need to rip a scab off another old wound.

Mardi lifted a shoulder. "Can't blame him for that." She emptied the bottle into the shot glass. "But he can blame me—for not listening. For not letting him give us more intel once the spell master discovered the enchantment." She gulped the alcohol and signaled the bartender to bring another bottle.

Heth leaned in close and snapped. "And what if he'd had a stroke because the enchanted chip burned a hole in his brain?"

Mardi answered. "Then he'd be dead."

Progress. Finally.

Heth nodded. "Exactly."

She shook her head. "No, not exactly. He would've gone out doing something he thought important." Pain filled her gaze and she glanced away. "I just wanted to get my Staz back. The guy who made me laugh. The one who healed my hurt…" Her eyes met his again. "When you walked away." A cold look settled over her face. "I didn't care about the enemy, or what Staz wanted. I just wanted that damn chip out of his head."

Her words hit Heth with brutal precision. He finally got it. The agony had nothing to do with the surgery and Staz's comatose state. She hadn't fully accepted him being an agent for the other side or the sacrifice he'd wanted to make…

Until now.

Heth laid a hand over hers. "Mardi…"

Mardi opened her mouth—no doubt to blast him with a scathing tirade—but clamped it shut when a waitress brought another bottle of Abernath.

Mardi reached into her bra and withdrew a twenty. "Keep the change." Her tone dismissed the pretty blonde before she could even blink.

The waitress quickly set another shot glass on the table and walked away. Mardi slowly broke the seal on the cap and twisted it off. She placed the liquor on the table and exhaled on a long breath.

She met his gaze again. "Look, Heth. Just don't. Okay?" She filled the two glasses. "I'm going to sit here and drink until I can't think anymore. You can join me, or not. I don't care."

Oh, he'd join her. Heth didn't plan to go anywhere. Not this time. He'd left her once before and look where she'd landed.

He picked up the shot. "I'm staying. Until you're ready to come home."

A brief smile flitted across her lips before she joined him in downing the alcohol.

And so it begins—the painful truth and accepting it. An even bigger truth lies waiting for Mardi to discover…if she's game to find it.

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday Snippet: Seeing Red

September 1, 2013

Hello!

Yeesh, first day of September. That means the holidays are just around the corner. I know, right? How is that possible? According to our local Dollar General, Halloween stuff has to be displayed before the kids even go back to school the third week of August. *shakes head* I fully expect to see Christmas stuff out within the next two weeks. *shudder*

Thankfully, my post tonight isn't about the holidays. I'll save those for a later, more appropriate time. :D

Seeing Red is about a group of meta-humans who face a big battle with an opposing faction. Their special abilities are sometimes a little hard to control which makes the characters so much fun to write. :D

Here's the tagline:

Vesta Crock can't stand tension and a major meta-human uprising puts everyone on edge. Jones Blaylock becomes her target for a series of supposedly fun pranks, but when a fellow member of their team gets injured, Jones sees red and that's not a good thing for the firestarter.

And a preview snippet…

Jones drew in a deep breath, trying to shove the red haze aside. "By Christ, Vesta, do you not have a clue?" He exhaled, long and slow. "Your latest escapade just landed Bryce in the infirmary. He almost lost a damned eye."

Vesta opened her mouth then snapped it shut.

Jones shook his head. "Yeah, didn't figure you'd deny it was your handiwork."

She jabbed her finger at his shoulder. "You prick. Did Bryce get injured or not?"

He grabbed her hand, the red rage kicking in with a vengeance. "You're goddamned right he did. All because of your stupid attacks against me." He squeezed her flesh, the transfer of heat involuntary.

Vesta jerked her hand away, rubbing at her skin and blowing on it. "Shit, Jones. Calm down."

The tray of food on the table beside them burst into flames and the occupants scrambled away. Jones visualized glaciers and a frosty wind and the small fire died down. Vesta backed up to a healthy distance. A fissure of fear crept into her gaze and Jones growled low in his throat, turned, and stalked out.

~:~

Vesta tamped down her guilt over Bryce's injury and started out after Jones. She didn't deserve his wrath. At least not the fiery kind. He could've killed everyone in the room. A hand shot out and halted her progress.

Vesta jerked free and swung around ready to let loose with a torrent of cursing.

Hal shook his head. "Don't even think about it, Vesta."

She snapped her mouth shut. "Fine. What do you want?"

Hal grabbed her hand and tugged her away from the door. "For you to leave well enough alone right now." He pushed her onto the lounge and dropped down next to her. "If you go after him right now, he'll likely burn the place down." He shot her a sideways glance. "And not one damn person would blame him."

Vesta snorted. "I suppose they'd lay that at my feet, too."

Hal huffed out a breath. "Ves, do you have any idea how much of a pain in the ass you've been lately? The deal with Bryce pushed Jones past his limit."

Vesta wanted to deny the accusation, but couldn't. She cast her gaze downward, unwilling to let Hal see the shame in her eyes.

He laid a hand on hers. "Look, you went too far and someone got hurt. Everyone knows you didn't intend the end result, but it's still there, you know?"

She nodded, unable to speak over the lump in her throat.

Hal squeezed her fingers. "He's gonna take the heat and probably receive a harsh reprimand. All because he can't control one of his assets."

She hadn't thought of the possible repercussions. Hadn't looked past busting the boredom. She never did well in a hurry-up-and-wait situation. Didn't mean her team leader should have to pay the price.

Vesta sighed and met Hal's gaze. "You've made your point, Hal. I'll apologize as soon as he's had time to cool off."

Hal nodded. "Give him the rest of the day, Ves. You made him see red."

She shuddered. "I know and it's not his best shade." She turned and started for the door again. "If we get our orders, come find me." She glanced back over her shoulder. "You know where I'll be."

Hal's lips quirked. "In the danger zone. Got it."

Vesta smiled. Hal knew her better than anyone. And the danger zone gave her an outlet for the pent up energy she never quite expelled.

At least she couldn't get in trouble or cause damage in the huge atrium full of combat equipment.

Except maybe to herself.

Vesta will hopefully end up finding herself before it's all over. Jones might have a wee bit of something to do with helping her along. J

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye