Sunday, December 29, 2019

Sunday Snippet: Reflections


Welcome to the last post of 2019. I hope everyone had a terrific holiday or the best they could have given the trash fire that has turned into a raging wildfire of possible corruption and back channel maneuvering in the RWA. I'm not a member of the organization but I stand with marginalized authors. Period. Full stop.

I believe I made it through the mild case of the flu. I'm still a little stuffed up and achy, but otherwise doing well. I caught some decent television time also.

I watched an episode of Riverdale and thoroughly enjoyed it. Once again, the play on theme of the episode title worked so well. I'm sad because it's almost the end of the season and that means no more Luke Perry soon.

I finished Dirty Sexy Saint and ended up really liking it. I also caught the new Quickie, The Naughty List and loved that also.

Caught another episode of Murdoch Mysteries and enjoyed the different approach. The episode played out almost like a dinner theater murder mystery and I'm totally there for that.

Frankie Drake also had a different style of episode and I loved it. The cold opening had me wondering for a few moments if we'd lost a major cast member. Well done.

Watched an episode of Midsomer Murders and, weirdly, it reminded me of Doctor Who if only because two of the actresses in this episode guest-starred on the series. I've been watching some of the marathon leading up to the New Year's premiere of the new season.

I'm finishing out the week with a full arc of Sapphire and Steel. I started season three and since there's only one assignment for this season, I'll have it finished up later today.

And that's it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Reflections, a novella that got a start with a writing community prompt for a special call themed romance.

Here's the mini-blurb:

The ornate mirror in her grandmother's house creeps Everley Bonice out. When she arrives to settle her grandmother's estate, the mirror depicts erotic images of Everley with a man who seems familiar but one Everley can't place. When Vannes Sullivan shows up to deliver groceries to the house, Everley decides to discover the secrets of the mirror-scenes she keeps seeing, because Vannes is the man in the reflection.

And a preview snippet…

Everley Bonice entered her grandmother's—no, it belongs to me now—house and tossed her keys on the delicate console table by the door. She unwound her scarf and hung it on the coat tree then followed with her peacoat.
Heaving a sigh, she glanced around the foyer. "Where do I start, Gram?" As if the one constant in Everley's life could answer.
Although, knowing her grandmother, a response from the great beyond might not be impossible.
Everley wandered through the house, sifting through memories of good times. Better ones than the last five years where living in the city proved difficult.
She entered the room she called hers from the age of six. "Well… I won't be sleeping in here." Every available surface had clothing bags and storage bins covering them.
At least Emma made an attempt to start sorting through her vintage wardrobe and antiques. Now Everley would finish the project and decide if she wanted to keep the grand old Victorian home or sell it to a family that would love and care for it.
Gently shutting the door, Everley crossed over to her grandmother's former room and peeked inside. The room hadn't changed in close to twenty years, as long as Everley could remember. Beautifully stained and polished wood furniture gleamed in the sunny space. And, of course, in the far corner stood the only thing Everley didn't like.
Emma's heirloom mirror—the one that always freaked Everley out.
The ornate, standing frame seemed to whisper in Everley's mind in muted tones she couldn't make out. Emma used to laugh and shake her head whenever Everley threw whatever she had handy over the reflective surface. A coat, a throw, Emma's bathrobe, it didn't matter as long as it covered the mirror that gave Everley the heebie-jeebies.
Emma always rolled her eyes. "Someday that mirror will belong to you and you'll understand its mysteries."
Everley always shuddered at the thought. But her grandmother extracted a promise that Everley would keep it for future generations. Like there would be any after Everley.
She grimaced. "Highly unlikely. I have exactly zero plans to have offspring." She'd have to adopt because she'd sworn off any kind of long-term relationship.
Glancing up, she gasped. "What the ever-loving hell is going on?"
In the mirror's reflection, an intimate scene unfolded between a man with raven-colored hair and a woman. Everley wanted to look away, but the beautiful symmetry of the male's movements kept her gaze glued to the sight. The strong, powerful thrusts he used, the flex and release of the muscles in his thighs and buttocks were gorgeous. The woman's back arched off the bed and her mouth opened on a silent shout of pleasure.
Everley fanned her face. "Goodness. Definitely didn't expect anything X-rated today." She couldn't tear her gaze away from the couple. The man, when he came, threw his head back and Everley bit back a startled yelp… because the woman enjoying the prime specimen of manhood happened to be her.

This story is coming together nicely. I love the challenge of writing to a specific idea and through a mirror darkly is fun to explore.



That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday, December 22, 2019

Sunday Snippet: Reflection of a Kiss


So, I'm pretty much caught up on the holiday shopping and just in time. We adopted another doggo this week and I ended up with a mild case of the flu. So far, a multi-symptom medication is taking care of the flu and the puppy is chewing her way through anything she can sink her teeth into. We're working on the little shredder to help break her of tearing into everything.

Slow week for television, but I did watch a Classic Who arc. I think I have one left of season nine.

Caught two more episodes of Gargoyles. I had a great conversation with my oldest about the shows we watched together when he was little. Some great memories shared of how much fun we had.

Started Mr. 365, a Passionflix original, but stopped it about halfway through because I'm behind on everything and I wanted to catch Dirty Sexy Saint, the holiday movie for this year. I'll finish up Mr. 365 soon.

I'm in the middle of Dirty Sexy Saint and, so far, love it. I'm so glad I got a founding member's subscription to Passionflix.

That's pretty much it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Reflection of a Kiss, a sexy short that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Pryce Baker and Fisk Darrison, two hunters in the middle of a supernatural war, have many different types of kisses. It's not easy maintaining a relationship in the middle of enemy territory, but they take the time to reflect on what they have and make it work.

And a preview snippet…

Fisk grinned. "Oh, I plan to." He worked his mouth from her breasts down over her stomach and then lower.
He shifted and settled between her legs, hooking her knees over his shoulders. He grasped her hips then leaned forward to trail his tongue between her folds. Pryce rewarded him with a low moan.
Fisk loved the sound, his dick twitching in response. He could wait—the desire to push Pryce over the edge took precedence over his needs. For too long, they'd been caught in an endless cycle of patrol, dispatch, regroup, and start again. Tonight's elimination of the ravaging hell beasts bought some time.
Finally.
To relax. Unwind. Rejuvenate. And reflect.
He'd missed this—stolen moments belonging only to them. He planned to savor Pryce while he had the chance.
Flicking his tongue over her clit, he then sucked it lightly between his lips. Pryce gasped and shuddered. He inserted two fingers inside her hot core and fluttered them against her g-spot. She bucked against his hand, her head thrashing on the pillow. The tight grip on his fingers when she came completely turned him on. Only he did this to her—pushing her into pleasure, giving her release.
When she relaxed into bliss, he worked his way back up her body, trailing open-mouthed kisses over her skin. Pryce surprised him with a hand planted on his chest.
He quirked an eyebrow but grinned when she nudged him backward onto the mattress. Straddling his thighs, she scooched downward and gripped his dick. "My turn for some fun…"
Fisk closed his eyes, anticipation filling his mind and his cock.

One of my favorite things when writing is to find the bare essence of a moment and create a scene. This story is challenging me to search for those small pieces of heaven.



That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday, December 15, 2019

Sunday Snippet: Red-Eyed Monster


There's nothing quite like hitting the third week of December and realizing less than half my holiday shopping is complete. I need about five more hours each day to get everything finished up. Something tells me I'm not going to see that extra time.

Had a decent week of television viewing. Caught an episode of Riverdale and, wow, I'm seriously impressed with how the relationship with Betty and Alice is being portrayed. I'm on the fence with the Hal stuff. Was completely thrilled I didn't have any Hiram to deal with and loved the father / son stuff between FP and Jughead and Archie and Fred. It's so bittersweet to watch Luke Perry's scenes.

Caught another arc of Sapphire and Steel. I should be getting ready to start the third season next week.

Watched an episode of Murdoch Mysteries. Really not sure what to make of the neighbor interaction. My gut says the wife is probably some type of murderer. We'll see if I'm proven right. I have a vague idea of who I think she'll end up taking out if she is.

Also watched an episode of Frankie Drake Mysteries. Enjoyed seeing a family member added to the fold. Loved Nora's mama bear protection instincts.

Also caught another episode of Midsomer Murders. Very happy this has another season coming up.

That's pretty much it for television this week. I also dived deep into the holiday music on a couple of days. Tonight's post is from Red-Eyed Monster, a novella that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Psyche Hood and Errol Winkham are best friends, growing up together in the enchanted realm. A sinister darkness and red-eyed metal monster is moving in and Psyche drags Errol out to pick up the trail, little knowing she's playing right into the evil wizard's plan. He wants the red-eyed monster to rain fire down on Errol so Psyche will be alone and his for the taking.

And a preview snippet…

Psyche stood outside the door of her father's house. "Here goes nothing." Twisting the knob, she entered the foyer and waved his ever-present butler and best friend aside. "He'll be expecting me, Smithy. No need to make an announcement." She didn't wait to get a response from the man she'd known since the age of two.
She definitely didn't want an audience for the argument she'd no doubt have with her dad.
Padrick Hood sat behind the large desk in his study, poring over a map. His dark hair had rows where his fingers had combed through the strands and his red pencil made three quick circles on the plotted page before him. He heaved a sigh that sounded older than his forty-six years.
Padrick didn't glance up when she took her usual spot across from him. "The destruction is even worse after last night. Why haven't we caught the red-eyed beast yet?" He finally looked up, a bit of accusation in his gaze.
Psyche didn't rise to the bait. "Because you don't want more than two people out there looking for it." And one of those two happened to be her.
Padrick tossed the pencil on the paper. "You know why I don't. I'm not going to put anyone at risk when something fueled by dark magick is roaming our glade." His fingers drummed frustration on the desk.
Psyche put her hands on the surface, covering the map. "Then let me do what needs to be done." She braced for the explosive response.
Padrick shot to his feet and got in her face. "No. I will not have you mucking about in your mother's books and journals." He slammed a hand down. "You're better than that and shouldn't need to delve into using the dark side of magick to catch this thing." His nostrils flared and his voice boomed.
Psyche barely refrained from rolling her eyes. "Why do you always assume I want to use dark magick? I only need to get a handle on how it works, not wield the power." His utter lack of understanding pissed her off.
Padrick backed away and paced the floor behind his desk. "You don't need to be anywhere near your mother's history." His tone held accusation.
Beyond tired of getting lumped into a category she didn't deserve, Psyche lifted her chin. "You know what, Dad? It's not my fault you got all hot and bothered over a dark arts mistress and couldn't keep it in your pants. The fact that I'm the result of dark and light coming together is something you won't let me forget and the one time I tried to find answers about my mom you flipped your shit and locked me down with an enhancement that won't let me practice anything other than light magick. What exactly are you afraid of here?" Did he really want the beast caught or not?
Padrick stopped and faced her. "I'm afraid of losing you the way I lost her." His eyes filled with ragged pain. "She couldn't turn away from the dark, Psy. She tried but couldn't resist the temptation. I won't let you go down the same path." He came around the desk and stood at her side. "You have to understand it would kill me to see you succumb like she did." His hand grasped her shoulder in a fatherly squeeze.
Dammit. She did get it. But she also hated the low-level distrust her dad held for her at all times. She made one mistake—over a decade ago at age sixteen—and he couldn't let it go.
She'd given her idea her best shot. Now they had to figure out how to proceed with finding and containing the red-eyed monstrosity wreaking havoc in the glade.
Blowing out a breath, she gave a nod. "I get it, Dad. Let's focus on catching our interloper." She swung the map around and pointed to the center of the village. "I'm thinking we should stake out the—"
Padrick interrupted her. "No, it started in the north quadrant, then moved west the next night. Last night it tore up the south quad. I want you to patrol the east sector tonight."
She sighed. "Don't you think at least one of us should be in the square? That way if the beast returns and doesn't go where we predict, we have a better shot at catching it."
Her father shook his head. "No. Errol needs to be with you. I don't want you two to split up."
She'd rather have Errol Winkham with her at all times, but she also wanted to rid the village of the contraption causing all the problems so she and Errol could get back to doing what they did best… challenging each other in work and play.
Psyche lifted a shoulder. "Fine. Whatever you say, Dad." She backed up and turned to leave.
Padrick softened his stance a little. "If you don't have any luck in the east quad, you can do it your way. As long as you and Errol agree."
Psyche's lips curved. "Not a guarantee but, thanks." She exited the study and nodded to Smithy before leaving the house.
Standing outside, she shook her head. "Okay, that didn't go well, but it could've been worse." She started down the drive to head over to Errol's.

I love this story! One of my favorite tropes is having an established couple go through a personal trial that could end up breaking them apart. This story has that through-line and I'm having so much fun with it.



That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday, December 8, 2019

Sunday Snippet: Red Cap


I wish I could say it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, but it's so not. LOL I'm hoping I can add some holiday cheer to the casa sometime this week. I think I'm going to make 2020 my year to finally purge a ton of stuff we no longer need or use.

Didn't have a great week of television, but did get a few things watched. We got a Disney + account through our wireless carrier so I did start a rewatch of the Gargoyles series. I have so many fond memories of this show when my oldest was little.

I finished the Gilmore Girls marathon and had some pretty intense feels. I watched sporadically when it originally aired, mainly because I had three youngish kiddos at the time. I really love the vibe of this show, even when I wanted to strangle the characters sometimes.

Caught another episode of Midsomer Murders and also realized series twenty isn't the last one. Yay!!

Caught a full story arc of Sapphire and Steel along with a full arc of Classic Who. I'd forgotten how much I truly disliked the Master way back when.

I finished out the week with The Trouble with Mistletoe, a Passionflix original. If you're not a member, consider signing up. I love the service!

That's pretty much it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Red Cap, an urban fairy tale that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Magan Drone, a red-capped tree nymph, is ordered to protect Cass Warrison, an earth sprite tasked with guarding the land from the wolf-shifter clan. Magan isn't thrilled with the duty—she and Cass share a complicated past—but her handy skill with a crossbow can stop an evil prophecy from coming to light. She'll do her job and save the day, but no way will she let Cass back into her life.

And a preview snippet…

Cass jogged down the steps and paused outside his grandfather's study. "I'm going to patrol the woods." There'd been a lot of movement on the fringe and Cass didn't like it one damn bit.
Cecil angled his head around. "Not sure that's a good idea." His gnarled fingers rubbed at his achy knee.
Cass launched a defense. "Because it's me? Too bad, Grandfather. I need to know what's going on out there." He pushed away from the door jamb and entered the room.
Cecil waved a hand. "Of course, I'll always worry when you're out there. But the reason it might not be a good idea is because we're due for rain." He quirked an eyebrow. "Hard to see when it's coming down in buckets."
Cass stopped short, thrown a little by the easy cave-in. "Er… I'll keep it brief then. Mainly want the others to know I'm out and about. If the weather turns, I'll head back in." He waited a beat, expecting more push back from his grandfather.
Cecil lifted his chin. "See that you do. Supposed to be a soggy night." He glanced out the window. "But it's nice out there right now. Try the western path through the glade. Always a nice walk in the late afternoon."
Cass blinked, a little surprised by the advice. "Uh, thanks. I'll do that." He turned and left the study, chalking up the amiable conversation to the fact the old man had starting handing over the reins of leadership.
Not that Cass wanted to rush into being the co-magistrate for the enchanted glade, especially since he'd share the position with Milton Drone. He made his way to the front door and left, heading in the westerly direction his grandfather recommended. Cass had a ton of respect for Milt and thoroughly enjoyed the man's sage wisdom as well as his company. What Cass didn't enjoy…
"His niece, Magan." Or, more to the point, her biting tongue.
Come on, Cass. You know exactly why she all but froths at the mouth when you're around.
Okay, yeah, he did. And he'd deserved her cool disdain after they parted ways almost a decade ago. But… it had been ten years.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. "No one holds a grudge like Magan." Even after he apologized numerous times.
She could cut him a break if she wanted to.
Instead, she'd rather slice him to shreds with well-aimed barbs—literally and figuratively.

I love to put a new spin on an old tale. The red riding hood vibe is fun to write, especially with the twist of gender-swapping the characters.



That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday, December 1, 2019

Sunday Snippet: Rapier's Edge


Whew! Welcome to December. I had a crazy week of trying to find a working stove… okay, a stove with a working oven. It's funny. We get a new furnace and literally two days later, our oven takes a flying leap. The good news is, I didn't have to cook for the US Thanksgiving and we found a new stove.

Television took a back seat to both work and shopping for kitchen appliances. I did get the Murdoch Mysteries episode finished up and enjoyed it a lot.

I also caught a binge-watch of the Green Hornet. I love the vibe of that show. The movie vibe? Not so much.

Then… I fell down the Gilmore Girls rabbit hole and got sucked into a marathon that's still going on. I'd forgotten how much I really liked this show… even when the characters sometimes drove me bonkers.

I will say it's a great show to watch when insomnia strikes. And, man, the insomnia has been a right pain in my ass this past week. Actually, it's been longer than the week, but it really kicked in on Monday and hasn't backed off yet.

That's pretty much it for the mundane real-life stuff this week. Tonight's post is from Rapier's Edge, a novella that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Wen Buxton, an undercover fae agent, finds Jacob Franklin standing over a dead body. He resists her siren call and refuses to answer questions during her interrogation. Wren has a sneaking suspicion all isn't what it seems with the covert mercenary.

And a preview snippet…

Wen rolled to a stop outside the warehouse, cut the engine, and rolled her window down. Whistling the entry code for the warehouse, she got out, went around back, and opened the hatch. She grabbed her quarry by the shoulders and rolled him out of the truck.
He landed in a heap.
She resisted the urge to kick him in the ribs. "Havish taught me better." But she hoped the guy would have some nasty bruises when he regained consciousness.
Struggling with the dead weight—probably two hundred pounds, easy—her adrenaline kicked in when she pictured Havish's corpse. The surge of angry energy helped her get him inside and strapped into a chair. After testing the restraints, she retrieved a bucket of water and doused him with it.
He sputtered and snapped his head upward, glaring with rage and fire in his eyes.
Wen smiled. "Hello again." She tossed the bucket aside. "It's time for you to answer a few questions." And she only cared about the answer to one.
His gaze moved away from her and stared straight ahead. "I don't think so." He dropped his chin to his shoulder to sop of some of the dripping water.
Wen quirked a brow. He'd soon learn he didn't have a choice. Starting slowly, she walked around him, sinking into the ambiance of the location to find the tonal match.
Sending a whisper out first, she voiced a question. "Who are you?" The tone would compel him to answer.
He continued staring at the wall in front of him.
Wen dug a little deeper and altered her pitch a little. "Why did you kill Havish?" She barely kept from ending on a wobble.
He didn't respond but his gaze darkened and pain flickered across his face.
Or maybe guilt.
She needed to know. His resistance to her siren call frustrated and confounded her. Very few humans or fae had the ability to ignore her. Every minute she wasted on interrogation delayed getting justice for Havish's death.
She tried a new approach. "Look, it only gets worse from here. When I amplify my tone and pitch, the pressure in your head will increase to the more you resist." She walked in front of him and put her face close to his. "Just tell me what I need to know so I can bury my friend." She didn't manage to keep the grief from her voice this time.
His gaze finally snapped to hers and she poised to strike but his rage-filled eyes—narrowed to slits—stopped her. Damn. She didn't have a good handle on the situation… yet she couldn't figure out why.
Something definitely didn't feel right with this guy.

I love this story! Wen and Jacob are complicated but fun to write.



That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye