Sunday Snippet: Loss

I tend to open my Sunday Snippet blog posts with 'My Week in TV' run down and I realized I've never really explained why. It goes back to one of my big reasons for writing in the first place—what if? Television, GOOD television, always makes me ask things like: what would happen if… or what could this character do if that character did [insert random scenario here]. Seriously, the 'what if' possibilities are endless, which when it comes to writing, provides a crap ton of fodder for the imagination, right?

Of course, the definition of good, great, and awesome TV is subjective. The shows I love may be something you hate, so apologies if this part of the blog is mucho boring. J

Quick recap for the past week: The Walking Dead delivered, as mentioned in my last snippet post. Bitten and Lost Girl both made for brain eating material. Almost Human had a solid episode, and I really forget how much I kind of love that show until I'm watching it, you know? Arrow finally returns this week and I sooooo can't wait. All in all, the Olympics are great and all, but I'm glad my favorite shows will be back.

Tonight's post is from Loss, a novella where my main characters experience losing a person they're very close to and how they deal with the fallout. Hint: Not well. LOL

Here's the tagline:

Welsh Hollingsworth is the golden child of Clan Grimstone, but when he's expected to fill the void left when his dad dies, he can't quite figure out how and he hopes Cagney Gaines can help him find some insight. Cagney can't deal with the loss of her mentor, the one constant in her chaotic world and she leaves when Welsh needs her the most. One year later, she returns to find a very different Welsh—one who doesn't welcome her with open arms.

And a preview snippet…

Wallace dead. Welsh couldn't quite wrap his head around it. Carmine gave him the news and Welsh exited the alcove, unsure where to go. He leaned against the sterile wall, sinking down, his feet unable to hold him upright. The loss hit hard, harder than he expected. Tears pricked behind his eyelids and he blinked, trying to clear his vision.

Cagney kneeled in front of him. She held silent, words not needed. She felt the void, just like Welsh.

She reached out a hand, a tentative motion, so not Cagney. She moved with purpose and used strength and skill to make things happen. Her hands touched his arms, barely gliding over the surface before cupping his face.

Welsh broke. A quiet sob escaped and his shoulders shook. Cagney moved closer, drawing him near, tucking his head under her chin. He wrapped his arms around her, breaking down, letting tears flow unchecked. His father, his foundation, gone. The head of Clan Grimstone ended his journey, cut down by a rival clan.

Cagney didn't speak, but she pushed her strength towards him. He welcomed the burst. Would need it soon.

Welsh eased back, holding Cagney's gaze. She met his stare, grief shining in her eyes, tears pooling in the corners. She swallowed hard then nodded, her lower lip briefly quivering.

A throat cleared. "Uh, Welsh?" Carmine, minus his bloody scrubs, held up a phone.

Welsh dropped his head back, blinking fast and scrubbing his face with his palms. He blew out a harsh breath and slowly inhaled, dragging the air deep into his lungs. Cagney moved back and got to her feet, giving Welsh room to rise. He stood and walked several steps, trying to compose his thoughts and get his emotions under control.

Swiping at his face, he exhaled and turned, taking the wireless device from the doctor. "Yeah—" His voice cracked and he coughed, clearing the phlegm from his crying jag. "Hollingsworth, go ahead."

The line crackled, Jacko, one of the scouts replied. "Welsh? I expected the old man." More static. "Look, Bainbridge has the rest of Clan Stoneworth on the move. They're coming in from all sides. You've got maybe fifteen to twenty minutes before they strike."

Welsh closed his eyes and fought back another wave of grief. "All right, Jacko. You get back here. We'll need all good hands to fight this battle."

A loud boom sounded over the line. "Shit, Welsh. I think they're trying to take out the tower." A long pause. "Aw, fuck. Welsh, what do you know about the old subway line that runs along the river?"

Welsh scrambled to recall anything his old man told him. "Why? What's going on?"

Jacko cursed again. "A shit ton of men, probably a hundred, entering from the Eighth Street station." Another loud thundering in the background. "Shit, they're definitely trying to take out the tower."

Welsh tensed. "Jacko, what's going on? Are the men armed?"

Silence met his query.

"Jacko? Talk to me?"

A burst of static, then Jacko replied. "Welsh, I'm coming in. Get someone to cover the subway terminal closest to Hollingsworth House."

The line went dead.

Fuck. Welsh turned and his gaze clashed with Cagney's. She'd heard enough to know the situation. Cagney gave him a brief nod and squared her shoulders, ready to throw everything she had into the fray. She'd stand firm and hold the line.

Welsh crossed the short distance between them, backed her up against the wall and caught her lips with his. She melted into the embrace, bringing her hands up to drag him closer.

She broke the lip lock and pressed her forehead against his. "They're looking to you for leadership now. I've got your back, no matter what." Her mouth met his for a quick, hard kiss. "Go. Get everyone ready. We'll make our stand."

Welsh trailed a finger down her cheek. "Thank you."

Backing away, he made his way down the long corridor to the big doors leading out to the main hall.

He didn't want to face his people, his clan, and deliver the revelation of his father's death. But… he would take a page from his old man's book and use the news to mobilize everyone, to give them a reason to fight hard and use their abilities to strike a heavy blow against Bainbridge.

Welsh's lips curved. His dad's motto—steal from the best—certainly came in handy and Welsh would use it to avenge Wallace's death.

So far, this story is coming together nicely. Well, the writing is flowing smoothly. Nothing for the characters is. :D

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday Snippet: Whipped Cream and Chocolate Dreams

Hello!

So… The Walking Dead didn't disappoint. And Chris Hardwick's Talking Dead makes me happy. LOL

Arrow is amping up the action, and true to my word, I did recap the pilot episode over on my Universes Altered blog this week. If I'm not overloaded with deadlines this week, I'll hopefully have the second episode recapped by the weekend. Or, I might hit Bitten and catch up with that one so I can do current recappage.

GAH! So many choices. LOL

Tonight's post is from Whipped Cream and Chocolate Dreams, a fantasy novella that's been so much fun to get started!!

Here's the tagline:

Nita, Deacon, and Callen fall victim to Morpho, the Dream Tender, who plants vivid imagery in their minds while they slumber. When the trio wakes up primed and ready for action, they try to fight the erotic pull, but fail.

And the preview snippet…

Morpho, the Dream Tender, prowled his domain, cursing the damned cupid, Lovecastle. The stupid lovemonger tricked Morpho into making a wager he'd lose… all to show him how 'easy' it could be to hook up otherwise happy mortals in romantic entanglements.

Morpho stopped pacing. "Romance. Bah!" He flung an arm outward. "Hearts and flowers and love songs. What do I know about any of that crap?"

Lovecastle popped into Morpho's dwelling. "My dear chap, who said anything about kitschy tropes? I know I certainly didn't." The cupid rolled his eyes. "You're making this difficult on purpose, aren't you?"

Morpho resisted the urge to strangle his nemesis. "No, I'm not. But I don't have your tricks of the trade. No lust-tinged arrows, not a trace of love dust, and not a drop of whatever it is you use to make your targets go wild for each other."

Lovecastle smirked. "The secret weapon of all premier cupids—Aphrodite's Ambrosia, the aphrodisiac that makes anyone look good, no need for a money back guarantee."

Morpho snorted. "You sound like a used car salesman." He stomped across the room and flopped down on his comfortable chair.

Lovecastle laughed. "You're the one bemoaning their existence. I'm only rubbing your face in it."

Morpho wanted to punch the cupid in the nads. "If you're only here to be a pain in my ass, go away."

Lovecastle shook his head. "Dream Tender, you've got everything you need at your disposal, but you're too stupid to see how easy you could make this."

Morpho quirked a brow. "Really? Care to share?"

The cupid made a tsking sound. "Well, gee, Dream Tender…" He emphasized Morpho's title. "I already did."

A light bulb went off and Morpho cursed his stupidity. Why hadn't he thought of using his realm? He ruled the dreamverse. He didn't need a bag of lame ass tricks.

Lovejoy snickered. "And there it is… all the brain cells finally firing at once." He settled down on the black, leather sofa and kicked his feet up on the onyx-encrusted table. "If I may be so bold as to suggest—"

Morpho shoved the cupid's feet off the table. "Shut it, you wanker. I've already got the perfect dreamscape in mind."

Lovejoy's mouth dropped open. "Wanker? Really?" He snapped his mouth shut and crossed his arms over his chest with a huff.

Morpho sneered. "It's better than dickhead, which was my first choice." He got up and shooed Lovecastle off the sofa. "Now make tracks, cupid, or I'll forget my promise to never give you nightmares again."

Lovecastle shuddered and blipped away, wisely refraining from any parting remarks.

Morpho let a wide smile cross his face. His forte—such a simple solution. And he did have an exact scenario in mind.

Whipped cream and chocolate dreams.

So far, the conversation between Morpho and Lovecastle has been my favorite thing to write. The dialog just jumped from my head to the page—a rare occurrence.

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye

Get Hooked: Reel in a Great Book A Magical Affair #MFRWHook

Welcome to Book Hooks, the weekly smorgasbord sampler hosted by the MFRW Authors Blog.

Readers: get hooked and reel in some great books. Authors are sharing short excerpts from their work. Please enjoy and consider picking up the full book by clicking on the buy link.

Today I'll be sharing a glimpse of A Magical Affair, my contribution to Silver Publishing's Magic and Mayhem themed books.

"You're sure about this?" Stacie Williams plopped down beside Romy Bludd. "Our friendship is more important than me having a weekend of super-hot sex with an awesome guy like Heath."

Romy smiled. "Stace, I'm okay because you're my best friend. Heath and I've had this fantasy for two years, and I had issues with bringing someone else in and not being able to control everything." She paused. "But I know you almost better than I know myself. You won't go over-the-top stalker, and you're not harboring any deep, unrequited love for Heath. You just appreciate his hard body and screaming good looks." Kicking her feet up onto the table, she shrugged. "You're not in a relationship at the moment, so no awkward trying to explain why you're traipsing off to a magical mansion for a Halloween weekend tryst—and don't want company."

Stacie grinned. "You're lucky I'm at loose ends and haven't had time to do more than look for a hookup." She propped her feet beside Romy's.

Romy frowned. "I can't believe you were gone for ten months. I missed you." She nudged Stacie's shoulder. "You're never allowed to take off for training abroad again."

Stacie laughed. "Think of it this way, you and Heath had plenty of time to work the kinks out and look at you now." She turned and faced Romy. "Rock solid and happier than I've ever seen you."

Romy shrugged. "He's everything I've ever wanted. It's scary good between us."

"Hence the crazy-ass weekend you have planned." Stacie tilted her head to the side. "Where did you find this place anyway?"

Romy's lips curved. "I got an invite from the owners when I went to inspect the place for their ad layout. We'll be their first trial run."

Stacie leaned in close. "And the magic? Do you think they can really create everything you want?"

Romy nodded. "Oh, yes. I really do."

Stacie shuddered. "God, I can't wait."

"Me either. How perfect, right? Halloween. Costumes, role-playing, and an entire wing all to ourselves." Romy grabbed a notebook from the table. "So help me come up with the best and kinkiest ideas to make this weekend a mind-blowing one for Heath."

Tagline: A mansion sitting atop a wellspring of magic lets Romy, Heath, and Stacie live out their fantasies. Heath loves the opportunity, but he really wants one thing—for Romy to give up control and let him call the shots.

Blurb: Romy Bludd and Heath Graystone are very adventurous and happily explore the wilder side of sex. Romy meets Jarvin and Vivica, who give her an opportunity to spend Halloween weekend at Magic Meadows, a mansion sitting atop an ancient wellspring of magic. Romy accepts the offer because she and Heath want to add someone else to the mix and Romy's best friend, Stacie, is back from a ten month stay abroad. The timing couldn't be better for the trio to live out their lustful fantasies.

The mansion and its owners are capable of wondrous transformations, giving Romy and Stacie a wealth of choices to rock Heath's world. A character from his favorite urban thriller, a cougar on the prowl, the plain librarian who wants to hook up with her boss, a roller derby diva with aggression issues, and a reporting duo with blackmail on their minds are on the agenda for the romp-filled weekend.

Heath is thrilled, but he really wants one thing—for Romy to give up control and let him call the shots.

Buy Links: New Links Coming Soon

Reel in more great books! Visit the other participating authors.

Sunday Snippet: Left Unsaid

WooHoo! The Walking Dead is back tonight! So excited to see what happens next.

In other TV news, Arrow and Bitten continue to eat my brain, so much so, I've decided to dust off my Universes Altered blog and start recapping the episodes. Hopefully if I do weekly brain dumps, I'll have more space in my head. :D

What else? Almost Human, Lost Girl, and Helix are still must see. And Banshee, gotta take a moment to mention Friday's episode. I loved it. Usually, there's so much going on it's hard to keep up—I love that, don't get me wrong—but I seriously enjoyed having a tight focus on Lucas and Carrie/Ana this week. I don't know, for such an almost quiet episode, some big shifts occurred. Important ones, I think. But I'm really excited to see the next episode when shit goes sideways and everything is back to normal. J

Tonight's post is from Left Unsaid, a novella where my main characters sometimes find communicating without words is the best way to get their point across. J

Here's the tagline:

Haven and Pryce are involved in a covert war between humanity and the fae. When the battle takes a nasty turn for the worse and their lives are in danger multiple times, the couple realizes it's sometimes better to communicate without words.

And a preview snippet…

Haven entered the war room, her eyes scanning the space, seeking Pryce. Okay, stupid. She'd already talked with him in the operations center. He'd come back whole, uninjured, and no worse for the wear—physically. But he'd been quiet, even for him.

She couldn't shake a compelling need to make sure he really didn't have something wrong with him.

Her gaze darted back and forth, glancing up and down. No Pryce. Heaving a sigh, she turned to exit and maybe head to the common area or even to the private quarters. A throat clearing stopped her progress.

"Pryce?" She waited, hoping he'd answer.

A chair scraped the floor in a darkened corner and he rose, stepping out of the shadows. "Yeah. What's up?"

His voice sounded garbled and she realized he'd been sitting alone for a reason.

Shit. She didn't want to interrupt, but since she had, she might as well offer a shoulder.

Haven crossed the space and stood in front of him. "I'm sorry. I'll leave if you want, but…" She trailed off, hating how much she sucked at not knowing what to say. "Look, I just wanted to see you again… sort of make sure I didn't imagine you coming back." Geez, lame. Lame. Lame. Lame.

Pryce chuckled. At least he hadn't snorted with derision.

He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm really here. No harm done."

She tilted her head, studying him a moment. "You sure about that?"

He shrugged. "No, but—" He stopped, shook his head. "Yes, I'm sure. I'm fine. Promise."

Haven reached out and grasped his hand. "You can't bullshit a pro, Pryce." She tugged him forward and wrapped her arms around him. "But okay, this is me backing off now." She laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm too happy to have you back to push hard at the moment."

His hands skimmed up her sides and travelled to cup her chin, angling her face upward. He met her gaze, his eyes unreadable. As much as she wanted Pryce to open up, she wouldn't pry. His head lowered and his mouth brushed over hers. The warm touch of his lips jolted her, the zing of passion igniting like fire. He might be tied up in knots, but she could offer comfort.

Happily.

She deepened the embrace, sliding her tongue to tangle with his. His hands moved to cup her ass, bringing her hips flush against his. She moaned, low in her throat, and broke the embrace.

Resting her forehead against his chin, she whispered. "Not the place for this, Pryce. Let's hit the shower in my quarters." She eased away, waiting for a reply.

His lips curved and he nodded toward the door. "Lead the way, Haven."

She grinned, catching hold of his hand. "Let's go."

Pryce and Haven don't always see eye to eye but they definitely find ways to get through their drama.

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye 

Sunday Snippet: Kindred Spirits

February 2, 2014

Hiya!

Remember when I mentioned being in for Bitten last week? Well, I'm a little more than in… I've become quite obsessed. Like scary obsessed. Haven't done that since Arrow last year, when I rewatched every episode like three times in a row before it would leave my brain. Yeah, that's what Bitten has been doing to me. And I've got books I can read and devour, too. Oddly, I've had them on my Kindle for ages and ages, but haven't been in the mood to really dive into a full series read. I am now. LOL

Walking Dead returns next Sunday. YAY! My middle kidlet and I always enjoy being completely grossed out before bedtime. J Helix has filled that slot a little, but it's not quite as compelling as TWD, in my opinion. Good show, but I haven't found anyone I want to root for yet. Actually, I take that back. I did… but the character is now dead. Dammit.

Oh, and, Captain America: Winter Soldier? April needs to get here right now. My soft spot for Cap is getting bigger and bigger. :D

Tonight's post is from the novella, Kindred Spirits where my characters discover a wicked awesome side effect to a new liquid beverage that affects people with magical ability.

Here's the tagline:

Merrit Rhodes accepts a teaching position at the Athena Academy of Magic and Semblance to earn her rites. Vaughn Gregorvich and Kirby Selwig are best friends and fellow instructors who fall hard for the newest addition to the campus. Sparks literally fly when the trio decides to test the power of three after a night of drinking a powerfully potent new cocktail called Elixir.

And a preview snippet…

Merrit downed the shot. The liquid burned the back of her throat and blazed a fiery trail down her esophagus before hitting her stomach like molten lava.

She blinked and blew out a harsh breath. "Whoa. What the hell is this stuff called, again?" She actually wondered if her next exhale would have flames or puffs of smoke, at the very least.

Kirby laughed, patting her on the back. "Elixir, the preferred liquor for discerning tastes." He chugged his first round down.

Merrit shook her head. "Geez, I didn't know I had discerning taste." A burst of warmth spread from her gut outward, heating up her limbs and face.

Good Grand Master Wizard, the alcohol packed a potent punch.

Vaughn's lips curved in a sly smile. "You don't. You're hooked up with him."

Kirby flipped his best friend off and nudged a shot glass in Vaughn's direction. "Drink up, buddy."

Vaughn lifted the tumbler and Merrit exchanged a brief look with Kirby. His head jerked slightly back and forth. Okay, Kirby hadn't mentioned their decision to not be an 'item'. Fine, she could deal. Vaughn would find out soon enough.

Vaughn knocked the drink back and winced, blowing out hard breath. "Damn. What a burn." His eyes met Merrit's. "Can you feel the heat?"

She chuckled. "Wait for it."

He flexed his fingers. "Son of a bitch. My fingers are tingling." He leaned in closer. "It's like the first time I conjured something from nothing."

Kirby grinned. "Yeah. Yeah. That's exactly what it feels like." His smile slowly faded. "Whose idea was this again? I mean, damn, I feel drunk already."

Merrit nodded. "And hot, right? That hasn't gone away." She fanned her face. "If anything, it's increasing." She squirmed a little, moisture pooling between her legs.

Her attraction for Kirby and Vaughn caught flame and flared bright and unchecked.

Vaughn cocked his head. "You don't suppose there's more than just liquor in this stuff, do you?" He shifted on his chair.

Kirby's eyes narrowed. "Like what? A drug or something?"

Vaughn shrugged. "I don't know, maybe. Not to be crude, but if my jeans get any tighter, I'm not gonna be able to walk."

Merrit squirmed. She understood the feeling. The idea Vaughn had a physical reaction close to hers only increased the steady thrum of desire coursing through her veins.

She swung her gaze toward Kirby. "What about you? Are you having the same dilemma?"

He glanced around then leaned in. "Um, yeah, and it's getting damned uncomfortable." His hand dropped below the table and he made a quick adjustment.

His motion kicked up the needy sensation and Merrit fought the urge to rush to the ladies room to relieve the throb between her legs. Her gut feeling? Wouldn't help. She needed something long and hard to quench the flames fanning out of control. The pinch of frustration clamped hard and she shuddered, willing it to subside.

No such luck.

Vaughn and Kirby appeared to have the same problem. Merrit shoved rational thought out of the way and made a snap decision.

She placed her hands on the table, barely keeping them from slapping the surface. "Guys. I can't stand it." She slid her gaze between the two. "We gotta get out of here. Now."

Vaughn picked up on her urgency. "Where?" He started to rise, ready to go.

Kirby snapped his fingers. "I know a place. Two blocks down. Private, quiet, and not usually patrolled." He slid his chair back, wincing when he stood up.

Merrit pushed backward and sucked in a harsh breath. The movement had enough friction she wondered if she'd make it the few blocks.

Vaughn held out a hand. She accepted the silent invitation and let him lead her through the throng of patrons, following Kirby out the main entrance. Once outside, the cool night air provided a small measure of relief. She heaved a relieved sigh and Vaughn made a movement to step away when Kirby wrapped an arm around her waist.

Merrit laced her fingers with Vaughn's and tightly clasped his palm. "You're not going anywhere. I want you right here."

Needless to say, my trio is going to want to experiment several times with this new alcohol—all in the name of research, of course. J

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye