Sunday Snippet: Blending In

The final weekend of 2020 is very chilly and snowy in Ohio. We got about eight inches over the holiday and I can't complain. I wouldn't mind temperature above the teens but as long as we bundle up, it's not bad. I got the doggos some fleece vests to keep them a little warmer when we go out for potty breaks in the wee hours of the morning.

Watched some holiday fare for a good part of the week. Mainly some classic television special episodes, which are always fun.

I did start Gabriel's Inferno part three and have it ready to go again sometime tomorrow. So far, I'm enjoying it. The sleazy ex finally made an appearance and is getting ready to wreak havoc on Gabriel and Julia. Should be fun.

I caught an episode of Silent Witness, the second to last with Amanda Burton. It ended on a cliffhanger so I need to watch the next one ASAP.

Also started a new episode of Blue Heelers. I'm really enjoying this one. One of the heelers is suspected of murder but he didn't do it. So far, it's a great episode.

That's it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Blending In, a novella that has two undercover characters finding their footing with each other and their case.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Wren and Ethan go undercover in the seedy Bottoms. Ethan's by the book style clashes with Wren's off the cuff attitude, but when a powerful mage makes a threat, they'll have to forge an unbreakable bond or go down in flames.

And a preview snippet…

Ethan considered Wren's justification. "Okay, what's next?" He might as well roll with tide.

She suggested an info gathering opportunity. "No engagement. We go in, get some intel, and come out. That's it." She made a few adjustments to her outfit, knotting the T-shirt under her breasts and letting her hair down.

Ethan followed Wren into Hunter's Glen, his heart pumping with both anticipation and trepidation. He didn't do on-the-fly work and he feared it would show. He didn't want to let her down.

Once inside, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. "I'll follow your lead. I need a few minutes to get into the role and follow the vibe." And maybe get his shit together.

Wren jerked her head, acknowledging the request. She led him through the throng of people and directly by the trio who'd drawn their attention. The mood coming from the bar area consisted of boisterous bravado mixed with an angry undertone.

Ethan adopted a besotted demeanor, trailing behind Wren like he couldn't wait to get his hands on her. Not a hard sell for him. This might not be as difficult as he'd thought.

She led him to a corner table in a shadowy recess close to the bar. Good cover and strategically located. He admired her quick and spot-on assessment.

Tugging him close, she spoke quietly in his ear. "Look oblivious to everyone but me, but pay very close attention to the conversations." She settled onto a chair and gave him a sexy smile.

He scooted his around so he could play the part she assigned to him. Leaning one arm over her shoulder, he twisted her toward him so they looked extra cozy. Her eyes went wide but she didn't resist. And a note of admiration crept into the dark depths. He'd made the right move.

She tilted her head toward him, doing a good impression of a private conversation, but her attention focused on the bar. Ethan tracked the conversations at the line of pool tables. Deviating from the plan might end up paying off if the first hour they spent barely touching their drinks and eavesdropping indicated anything.

He leaned in, speaking in low tones. "Sounds like the triple threat is here to meet the wall of muscle on table two." He eased back and gave her bold stare.

Wren tipped her chin. "Sounds right. They're waiting until the weasel-faced guy leaves. They don't trust him." She scooted closer, almost sitting on his lap.

But it put her in a prime position when the trio of Orion men made their way to the pool tables. Under the guise of practically making out, Ethan and Wren spent the next sixty minutes carefully catching the bulk of the planned attack on a group of fae intermediaries. Wren's eyes widened when the crucial piece of information dropped. The big ringleader told the trio to be ready within the week.

Ethan made a move to stand, pushing his chair back a little, but Wren slid up onto his lap.

She rested her forehead against his. "Not yet. Too obvious. Let the game wind down first." She eased back and held his gaze.

He didn't argue and gave a barely perceptible nod. Moving his hands up, he palmed her thighs, keeping her from shifting back to her seat. Her lips quirked but she didn't resist.

The final ball sank into the pocket and a round of drinks was raised to the winners. Ethan checked his urge to make tracks. He'd follow Wren's lead again.

When they drew a stare or two from the burly bikers and some raunchy commentary, Wren did a sensuous slide off his lap and tugged him upward.

They left to whistles and catcalls and thankfully before anyone tried something stupid.

Once outside, she clasped his palm. "We're primed with some good intel. Keep acting the part until we clear the next block." She shivered a little from the bite in the wind.

Ethan wrapped an arm around her and tucked her into his side. Neither spoke, pretending to be too into each other to talk. They made their way across the street and headed for the little apartment over the thrift shop.

I like how this story is coming together. All the pieces are in place and I'm excited to see them merge together.

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday Snippet: Believe

Happy holiday season to everyone! I'm ready for a busy week and a quiet Christmas. We're always pretty low-key and this year my oldest is in the middle of moving out for the first time. I'm thrilled for him but don't envy the chaos. Moving is challenging when it isn't the holiday. LOL

Didn't get much television watched this week. Have an ongoing project that's due by the beginning of January and I'm focused on getting it finished up.

I did listen to a lot of holiday tunes while working and I got sucked into a Scorpion binge marathon. Other than that, I watched the usual classic Perry Mason and The Saint.

Looking forward possibly getting to the movies I'd like to watch this week.

Tonight's post is from Believe, a novella that features a journey to trust the inner self and the one person that knows the most about that self.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Shaelyn Hardwick is a talented mage, but lacks control. When she inadvertently causes another's death, she flees under the cover of darkness. Innis Talmadge goes to the mat for Shaelyn and gets dismissed for his efforts. He tracks her down and a battle ensues. Shaelyn doesn't trust her ability, but she trusts Innis and he has to show her how to believe in herself again.

And a preview snippet…

I killed someone.

Shae got up and paced her floor. "I can't stay here." She couldn't face the mage council.

Even if they let her stay, she didn't trust herself anymore. She didn't believe she wouldn't hurt anyone else.

She gathered up one single suitcase and exited her room. "Innis is gonna be pissed when I don't show at eight." Her steps didn't slow.

She couldn't worry about him. Not right now. But her heart twisted a little.

He drove her mad most of the time but he also taught her so much. "And gives me advice I usually don't heed." She didn't want to tarnish him with her fuck-up.

Innis gave a damn about her and it would lead to his downfall. Or, hell, maybe his death. She didn't have the gift of prophecy, but her dream held vivid clarity. She had the power to end Innis and she couldn't deal with the idea at all.

Strolling out of the manor, she made her way to the grotto to teleport in relative obscurity. She didn't want anyone to know she'd left until she had a good bit of distance between her and the mage campus.

"I have to go somewhere…" Her main thought of escape didn't include a destination. "The fringe. I'll head there."

Dammit. But not right away. She needed to be smart about this. The fringe would be perfect to get lost for a while. The wild-wild-west vibe of the desert mining area would perfectly suit her mood and the need to lay low.

She stepped into the center of the grotto and focused her mind. "A place where no one knows or cares about me." But first, she'd hit the biggest city in the next state.

A zigzag approach. Take some time to earn funds to set up a buffer. She'd hop around instead of taking a direct route. A few paychecks would come in handy in case she didn't find work right away in the fringe.

And the roundabout travel would throw anyone off her trail … because her gut said Innis would try to follow her. And the more distance she kept between them the better.

I like how this story is coming together. Innis has Shae's number but he'll have to get past her call-forwarding. LOL

That's it for this week.

 

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday Snippet: Behind the Line (Black Raven Banner)

Well, another week kind of flew by. My work schedule is filling in again and that makes me very happy.

Had a semi-decent week for television. I ended up watching a lot of behind the scenes and bloopers from Passionflix. Gabriel's Inferno, Dirty Sexy Saint, The Will, and Matchmaker's Playbook. Thoroughly enjoyed all of them!

Caught up on some classic television. Watched a lot of Perry Mason and The Saint. I'd forgotten how much intrigue the classic Perry Mason shows had in them. Lots more than the modernized version from the eighties.

Also started a new mystery on Ovation. Caught the first two episodes of Crossing Lines. Enjoyed both so I'll be trying to catch those as they air.

I'd hoped to catch Gabriel's Inferno part three this past week but couldn't find time to really sink into the movie. I'll give it a go this week coming up. Also want to watch the holiday quickies releasing on Passionflix.

That's pretty much it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Behind the Line, a novella in the Black Raven Banner series. Yes, this is a new name for the series. Hopefully I'll land on the right one soon.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Emory Cavendish is trapped behind enemy lines and Verity Jones mounts a rescue mission, thinking she won't get much help. Surprise doesn't express her emotion when every other pilot jockeys for a spot on the team to save Emory. Their hard-won acceptance fills Verity with confidence and gratitude. She'll need their full support to bring Emory home.

And a preview snippet…

Emory Cavendish stumbled through the woods—not far from his downed plane—in enemy territory. "I gotta find some cover." Wounded and bleeding, his first priority had to be the… What?

His head throbbed and his vision blurred. Thinking clearly became a struggle. Pausing, Emory ran a hand over the back of his head. Sure enough, his fingers brushed over a large tender spot and big lump.

But he couldn't slow down. "Head injury. Great. At least I know my name." He repeated it over and over and started making his way toward a clearing … no a rutted roadway.

He'd stepped back down into washout gully when a lone horse cart came along and stopped along the side of the road. An older gentleman peered into the shadows then lifted a lantern. Caught, Emory couldn't do much but pull his sidearm.

The old man's eyes widened. "I came to offer assistance." He met Emory's gaze. "Are you planning to end my life?"

Emory's hand wavered and he lowered the weapon. "Gonna be hard to do when I see two of you." His vision swam again and he swayed on his feet.

The gentleman slid from the wagon and propped an arm under Emory's shoulder. "The name's Marcel Rainier." When Emory flinched, Marcel's gaze dropped to Emory's side. "You're wounded? My home isn't far. I can help, tend the wound." He started in the direction of the cart.

Emory dug his heels in. "No, can't. Not yet." He glanced over his shoulder. "I can't leave the plane out in the open." Easing away from Marcel, he almost fell backward when his head spun.

Marcel grasped Emory's bicep. "All right. I can help." He propped Emory up again. "You're English, yes?" When Emory gave a terse nod, Marcel heaved a relieved sigh. "Your plane came down in a good spot." He started toward the wagon again. "The homes surrounding this forest are all resistance. I'll signal the others and they can make cover for the plane." Reaching under the seat, Marcel withdrew an ornate box.

Emory frowned then huffed out a breath of surprise when Rainier opened the top and revealed a short-wave radio setup. Leaning against the side of the cart, he waited for Marcel to tap out a message. After a few long seconds, a response beeped back in return. Marcel nodded and put the device back under the seat.

He clasped Emory's shoulder. "Three men are coming. We'll wait here; should only take a few minutes." Glancing down, he tsked. "Let's get the bleeding slowed." Riffling in the bed of the wagon, he brought out a small bag that had torn fabric rolled into makeshift bandages.

Tearing a long strip off, he wound the material around Emory's midsection and tied it off. Emory winced and sucked in a harsh breath. Damn, that hurt. He shoved the pain aside and remembered the mission. And Verity. And all the men with Black Raven counting on him.

Marcel gave a grunt. "There. That should do until we can get a better look." He turned when rustling sounded behind them. "Ah, gentlemen, thank you for coming out."

Three men approached with wary movement. Emory straightened as much as he could and met each of their gazes. The trio swam before him, but he managed to blink and clear his vision.

Marcel briefly explained the need to secure the plane. "Our friend, Mister … I'm sorry"—he glanced in Emory's direction—"I don't know your name…"

Emory lifted his chin. "Cavendish. Emory Cavendish." He didn't say more; they'd discover who he flew for when they got the plane covered.

Marcel's lips curved. "Our friend, Mr. Cavendish will direct us to where he came down and we'll get the plane hidden."

With the five of them, providing cover didn't take long. Emory didn't help much with gathering the branches, but he did get his bag and—in a moment of clarity—located the beacon Verity installed and activated the device.

Emory struggled through another wave of dizziness on the way back to Marcel's cart. When the man helped him get settled in the back, Emory placed his hand over the wound on his side. His fingers came away with blood on them. Marcel hadn't gone more than a few feet after turning the wagon before Emory lost consciousness.

I have a lot of love for this series and the third book is proving to be so much fun to write. Book four is plotted and planned so I hope to have the whole set ready for publishing by late next year.

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye

Sunday Snippet: Beastly Shadows (A Lantern Jack tale)

Crap. It's December. I'm not even close to being holiday-ready. Then again, it's been a really weird year. Update from last week. The youngest is negative for Covid. She's home and having fun with the dogs. The middle kiddo? Well, he ended up back in the emergency department again. The acid reducer seems to be working, but we've discovered he's got kidney stones. There might be more going on but we won't know until he follows up with a urologist. All I know is he's tired of feeling like crap. Fingers crossed we get whatever is up with him figured out.

Kind of a slow week in television. I watched several more episodes of Silent Witness. I'm almost finished with season seven. I'll start eight this upcoming week and then I'll be at the place I originally started watching the series.

Started a new episode of Blue Heelers and got about halfway through. I'll finish it up this week.

Also plan to watch Gabriel's Inferno part three and some holiday quickies from Passionflix this week. Looking forward to diving into those!

Tonight's post is from Beastly Shadows, a Lantern Jack short featuring a shifter and a hunter.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Lantern Jack is back. To end a centuries-old feud between werewolves and the hunters, Lantern Jack has to right another wrong. He sets out to bring childhood friends Bebe Beasley and Mannix Mortimer together on Halloween night, but to do so he has to put Mannix in the path of a bullet.

And a preview snippet…

Mannix Mortimer got raked over the coals in the Moonshadow MC clubhouse.

The alpha, Magnus, slammed his hand on the table. "Dammit, Mannix. I'm ordering you to take a vacation. Or at least leave town for a few. I'm tired of bailing your ass out of jail every weekend." His palm curled into a fist, the first and only warning he'd give.

Mannix snarled. "Not my fault Beasley has a bone to pick with me all the time." Bastian Beasley could suck a dick for all Mannix cared.

Magnus raised a brow.

Mannix rolled his eyes. "Yeah, fine. I intervened when our friendly asshole of a sheriff had that group of teens freaked out over trumped-up charges. I mean, they TPed a house for fuck's sake." He flung his arms out. "Did you want me to walk away when he pulled his weapon on them? I thought we didn't do that shit anymore."

The Mortimer pack hadn't always stood up for righteous causes. But for over a decade, they'd cleaned up their act and didn't trash the town or hunt human prey. And they no longer turned a blind eye to the sometimes cruel nature of the Beasleys, especially their leader, Bastian.

Magnus heaved a sigh. "We don't. But it didn't have to be you. Bastian's had a hard-on for you since you helped that sweet young thing he had his eye on get out of town."

Yep. That one random act—stepping in when Bastian got up close and pervy with a waitress at the truck stop on the interstate—had started the whole shitstorm Mannix had lived with for five years. I'm tired of getting tagged for everything from a hangnail to B and E.

But he'd obey his alpha and head out of town. "Fine, I'll go north to wood country." At least there he could run unhindered.

He got up and left the meeting, making his unhappiness clear by slamming the door. Exiting the clubhouse, he stopped short when he noticed a creepy Jack-o-lantern on the picnic table. "What the hell?" Shaking his head, he swung a leg over his bike and started the engine. "Someone needs a lesson in how to carve a pumpkin." Rolling out of the parking lot, he headed up the road … and gave a middle finger to the sheriff's office on his way past.

Mannix and Bebe are so much fun to write. This is one of my favorite Lantern Jack tales.

 

That's it for this week.

Cheers!

Skye