Queen of the Pack 1:4

Frustrated, Phillip tried to sit up again. He couldn’t let her get away.  It was crazy, but just the thought of her leaving sent a surge of panic through him. His weak, barely-there muscles strained against the straps. Pain lanced into his side making him hiss.

 “Whoa, careful there, mister, take it easy.” Hands pushed his shoulders back down. “We’ll be at the hospital in a few minutes.”

“No, you don’t understand. I have to see that woman, the one who helped me.”

“Relax,” another EMT insisted, his restraining hand joining the first man’s. “You can thank her later, dude. Trust me, you don’t want to try chasing down a woman when you’ve got broken ribs.”

Phillip lay back, panting, trying to calm himself. The man was right, this was ridiculous. If he wanted to thank the woman for her help all he had to do was get her name and address from the police report later. He didn’t have to do it right now.

Except thanking her hadn’t even crossed his mind. Not losing sight of her, that was the main thing. Even now something was prodding him to go after her.

He felt like he was losing his mind.

The ambulance ran with lights only, no sirens, thank God. He let his eyes roam the inside as it barreled down the highway toward Tampa General.

“Try to relax, Mr. Prevatte,” said the EMT taking his blood pressure for the fifth time. The young man leaned back, out of Phillip’s sight. “Better tell Keith to step on it. Guy’s gonna give himself a heart attack if he doesn’t calm down.”

Phillip almost laughed. Calming down was not an option. Not with the EMT’s whispered words sounding clear as a bell in his ears. His hearing was definitely changing, getting better. Not only that, but the words printed on the metal panels and shelves of the ambulance’s interior were beginning to jump out at him like fish from a murky pond.

…Warning…

…Glucose…

…Syringes, Saline, Pressure Bandages…

God, what was happening to him?

Phillip squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear his own heart pounding out a frantic rhythm. BuhBoomBuhBoomBuhBoomBuhBoom—

No wonder the EMT was freaking.

A deep breath and a bit of concentration and the beating became less frenzied, less desperate. Pressure eased behind his eyes. Maybe he had a concussion. Maybe that explained the weirdness with his hearing and eyesight. Everything would probably return to normal in a few hours.

Part of him knew that wasn’t the case. Part of him realized his life was about to change—had already changed—dramatically. And he wasn’t sure yet if that meant things were going to get better…or worse.

Queen of the Pack 1:3

Gritting his teeth, Phillip clambered through the busted windshield and down the outside of the wreck. Smoke burned his eyes and nose, blinding his senses as hands reached for him. Not the hands of woman who’d risked her life to rescue him. He could tell that much by the grip on his arm. He let the person lead him up the embankment. The touch of a fresh breeze against his face was welcome. He coughed out smoke and inhaled cautiously before opening his eyes. His escort was female, but not his female.

His female?

Pressing a hand against his injured side, Phillip struggled not to laugh. He must have hit his head harder than he thought. Never in all his thirty years had a female looked at his pimply face twice much less given him even the remotest impression she was his. Women didn’t date someone like him.

He blinked his watering eyes, watching the emergency vehicles roll up. Police cars, two ambulances, and further back, a fire truck. The shriek of multiple sirens felt like knives stabbing into his head. Wincing, he covered both ears with his hands and looked around. No one else seemed bothered by the cacophony. The woman leading him up the hill gave him a worried look.

“Do you want to sit down?” she asked.

Even with his ears covered he heard her question despite the racket of shouts, sirens, and racing engines from the nearby interstate traffic. He shook his head, confused. He shouldn’t be able to hear her so clearly. For that matter, the sirens shouldn’t be hurting his ears. He’d never been sensitive to noise before.

Thankfully, the blaring wails stopped when the vehicles did. EMTs converged on him and he didn’t have a choice about sitting down. One look at his bleeding forehead and they all but pushed him onto a padded gurney. Two of them started checking his injuries and taking his vitals while the other began asking questions. He answered automatically, his attention scattered among the snippets of conversation going on around him.

“Man, that SUV came out of nowhere…”

“…sports car didn’t have a chance…”

“I need to call my wife…”

“…surprised he’s not dead…”

“It’s a good thing you acted so quickly. That guy owes you his life.”

Phillip’s attention focused. He twisted his head back to look up the hill where a man and woman stood outlined in the glare of headlights.

The woman shook her head. “A lot of people stopped immediately. I’m sure someone else would have jumped in if I hadn’t.”

It was her. He’d know that sultry voice now anywhere.

“Maybe,” the man said, tipping back his distinctive trooper hat.

Phillip swallowed a swear word and narrowed his eyes. He shouldn’t be able to see well enough to tell if the man was wearing a hat, much less identify its shape. Without his glasses he should only be seeing blurry outlines and fuzzy shadows.

“We’ll be in touch if we need any more information,” the officer said.

The woman turned and walked toward a parked car.

The EMTs pushed Phillip’s gurney in the opposite direction.

“Wait.” He tried to sit up, but found he’d been strapped down to the gurney at some point. “Wait!” he said again, louder this time. Neither the EMTs nor the woman paid him any attention. She disappeared into a car while he was shoved into the back of an ambulance.

Queen of the Pack 1:2

Phillip grabbed the seatbelt and tried to slip out from under it. No good. Even with his skinny frame there just wasn’t enough room.

A feminine grunt, and the pitiful Ferrari carcass rocked, metal squealing like a stuck pig. Phillip’s fuzzy gaze shot to the top of the crumpled hood. Were those pale things hands? He squinted, but didn’t have time to wonder more because the hood gave up with a last dying scream and a lithe body squeezed into the cramped space beside him. At least he thought she had a lithe body.  Damn it, where were his glasses?

“Are you okay,” a throaty voice asked. “Do you hurt anywhere? Here, let me see your face, you’re bleeding.”

Her words seemed to pour into his ears like warm wine. He felt giddy all of a sudden, dizzy as a three-day drunk. Must have hit his head somehow despite the damn air bags.

He didn’t resist as she cupped his face in her hands. Warm, soft, gentle hands. She leaned forward, her features an unsatisfying blur.

“M-my glasses,” he stuttered. “I can’t see without my glasses.” And he really wanted to see what she looked like. She would have to have the face of an angel, he decided. An ethereal face to go with that goddess voice.

He felt rather than saw her looking around. Her hands still held his cheeks and when he turned his head to look for his glasses, too, his mouth brushed across her palm. Warm liquid wet his dry lips. He licked automatically. What the hell? He’d tasted his own blood before, and buddy, this wasn’t it. He couldn’t keep his tongue from slipping out for another taste.

Her hands jerked away. “Sorry, sorry,” she apologized quickly. “I cut my hand a little getting in here. I promise I don’t have a disease or anything, my blood’s perfectly safe. I can get a note from my doctor if you want.”

It took a second for her words to make sense. “No, that’s okay.  No harm done.” Phillip brought his hand up as if to wipe the blood away, the motion hiding the quick flick of his tongue as he licked his lips clean instead. She’d think him crazy, but damn, she tasted good. A sudden shiver went through him. The next full moon was a week away. While he didn’t change, his wolf had a tendency to rouse enough to make its cravings known. Why was he suddenly craving the taste of her blood? What was wrong with him?

“Um, sorry, but I don’t see your glasses and we don’t have time to look for them. We need to get you out of here.”

More shouts, and the car shook again. A darker shadow appeared at the now open windshield. “Lady, if you’re coming out, you’d better hurry. The fire’s spreading.” A male voice urged.

“I need a knife, something to cut the seatbelt.”

He could hear the fire now. The rising crackle made him anxious.

“Could you hurry it up,” he told her. “I’m not in the mood for bar-b-que tonight.”

She laughed. “Neither am I. I was planning on sea food myself.”

It wasn’t the fact that she’d laughed at his poor excuse for a joke, but the sound of her laugh itself that surprised him. He felt liked he’d been punched and forgot all about taking shallow breaths. Damn busted ribs.

Smoke started filling the cramped space. Sirens wailed in the distance.

As soon as the seatbelt fell away Phillip waved the woman ahead of him. “I’m okay, I’ll be right behind you.” I hope, he added to himself. Between his bad vision and painful ribs, the climb out wasn’t going to be fun.

Queen of the Pack

     While I'm working on the next Sniper book, I thought I'd start posting a weekly blog featuring another story that's in the works.

     In Queen of the Pack, Phillip Prevatte is a werewolf who isn't exactly a werewolf. He was born with the werewolf gene, but unfortunately, that gene has to be triggered in order for him to obtain all his wolfy traits, including shifting. Even more unfortunate for Phillip and all the other fledgling wolves, the trigger is the blood of a royal werewolf, and everyone knows the royal line died out decades ago. Locked in a limbo between human and werewolf, the lowest of the low in a misfit pack run by a sadistic bastard of an Alpha named Jarvis, Phillip struggles to get through each day, knowing he'll never have the chance to reach his full potential.

     Enter Vivian Rayne, a young, up and coming defense attorney from New York. When her adopted family puts pressure on her to take some much needed time off, Vivian chooses to visit sunny Florida for a relaxing, trouble free vacation. When more than just their paths cross at the scene of a car crash, both their lives are changed forever. Phillip shifts, becoming a full-fledged werewolf in a matter of hours. Not only that, but he's morphed into a wolf alpha enough to challenge for leadership of his pack. But before he can do that, he has to find and protect the woman who made it possible. Jarvis has gotten wind of Vivian, and when he learns her true nature, he has only one desire: control Vivian and every drop of royal blood her luscious body can produce.

     Will Vivian learn to trust Phillip's simple honesty in time, or will Jarvis' sophisticated charm lure her into his clutches? Read on for the first installment of Queen of the Pack, to find out.        

CHAPTER 1:1

Tires squealed, horns honked. Headlight beams flew across the median, blinding Phillip Prevatte as he tried to avoid the out-of-control SUV coming straight for him. By the time his brain processed the danger and told his body to react, it was too late.

 Damn human reflexes.

The impact slung him against his seatbelt. Air bags deployed with a woomph, burying him in vinyl. The car flipped. The screech of bending metal and crackle of broken glass heralded the death knell of a $250,000 engine. Sounds that would haunt him later—assuming he didn’t die in the next few seconds. And assuming his Alpha didn’t kill him when he found out Phillip had wrecked his new Ferrari F430 Spider. Jarvis gutted men for far less.

When all movement ceased and he was still alive, Phillip’s first thought was to free himself from the airbag’s clutches. He punched and pushed with a sudden surge of adrenalin until he finally managed to get his face clear. He took a deep breath in reflex. Pain grabbed at him, squeezing his chest and clutching at his side. Air caught in his throat, making him cough. The resulting agony left him gasping, black spots circling his vision.

Do not do that again! Shallow breaths, idiot, only shallow breaths. He followed his own advice as he took stock of his unpleasant situation.

What was left of the car lay on its side, facing down an incline. He knew this because he lay on his side, too, still strapped into the driver’s seat. Everything around him was a blur of indistinct shapes. Nothing unusual about that. A quick check of his face confirmed the loss of his thick glasses. He winced as his fingers brushed against torn skin. Warm blood trickled across his forehead and dripped off his nose. Like vampires and werewolves, airbags and glasses were natural enemies and didn’t care who got hurt during their infrequent altercations.

The smell of gasoline and melted rubber hit him, the sharp odors strong enough to offend even his poor sense of smell. He reached for the seatbelt release. What was that other odor? Burning grass? Hell, it would be just his luck to get caught in a car fire. Being born a werewolf gave him a longer than normal life span, but did nothing to protect him from being burned to death. He needed to rip the stupid seatbelt loose and get out. Unfortunately for him, his super strength, along with all his other wolfy traits were still locked up tight somewhere inside him. Being a fledging werewolf without his powers had never sucked more.

He heard shouts. Footsteps thudding down the hill. He looked up, trying to see through the shattered windshield. Between his bad eyesight, the dark Florida night, and something—probably the hood of the car—crumpled up against the windshield like a discarded candy wrapper, he couldn’t make out a thing.

A male voice shouted an order. “Stay back, that thing’s on fire!”

Yep, it just wasn’t his day.

Phillip jerked at the stubborn seatbelt. Damn if he’d die trapped in a car that wasn’t even his. He paused in his struggles when the car shifted. Someone was climbing the wreck. The movement stopped, and instead of the male voice he expected, he heard a female voice mutter a soft “Damn it!”

Phillip closed his eyes and groaned. Rescued by a woman. Could this day get any worse?

Sniper Shots: EXERPT 5

     “Don’t move, Joshua.”

Staring at the silently snarling animal, Joshua thought Amy’s suggestion had excellent merit. He now understood completely why Chet steered clear of her when Bors was with her. What a monster. Three feet at the shoulder if he was an inch. The huge dog had a short, solid black coat, thick chest, heavy body, and paws the size of saucers. Not to mention a mouth-full of sharp teeth that would do a T-Rex proud. Tack on a couple more heads and he’d make a perfect Cerberus.

 “This is my fault,” Amy said, walking quickly toward him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have argued with you where he could hear. He’s very good at picking up on verbal aggression.”

No shit, Joshua thought, careful not to meet the dog’s threatening gaze. At this distance, he wouldn't have a chance of snatching one of the three knives strapped to his body before Bors turned him into a Scooby snack. The dog was damned unhappy. So much so, Joshua automatically reached out to stop Amy from stepping between him and the angry animal.

Big mistake.

Sniper Shots: Excerpt 4

Amy skirted a fat spruce at the bottom of the hill she was navigating and froze. A beautiful grassy meadow, about thirty yards across, opened up before her. Crossing it without being seen would be hard, but not impossible. What made her pause, however, was the prickly awareness running along her skin like goose bumps. Slowly, she eased back into the spruce’s needles, ignoring the thousands of tiny pin-pricks against her skin. Someone was out there.

She forced her breathing to slow, quieting the rush of air so she could listen. Leaves rustled, limbs creaked. No voices or footsteps broke the stillness. Not even a faint echo. Anyone else would have assumed there wasn’t a soul for miles. The peaceful quiet only made Amy more nervous.

With the ease of long practice, she melted farther back into the tree’s embrace, sideling through the thick branches with very little sound or movement. Reaching the thick trunk, she knelt on the carpet of old needles to make herself as inconspicuous as possible while she planned her next move.

That wild river ride should have put her several miles ahead of any pursuit. How had they gotten in front of her so fast? More importantly, who was it that waited so quietly for her to step into their trap? Couldn’t be the Wassiles. Despite their self-taught skills and knowledge of the area, Chet and his brothers were like a back-woods version of the Three Stooges compared to men like Chambliss and Velavich.

And the Harrier.

Amy’s heart jumped in her chest. The thought that Joshua might be tracking her made her limbs turn to jelly. If he’d somehow discovered she’d been taken, he’d probably just assume from the evidence that her kidnappers were the Wassiles. He wouldn’t be expecting a professional like Chambliss, or worse, Adrik himself.

She needed to warn him.

She stood, only to have her common sense stop her. She didn’t know for sure that it was Joshua out there. Odds were not in his favor. He’d probably already discovered her missing from the vet clinic, but how would he know where to search for her? That meant her stalker had to be either Chambliss or Adrik.

It would be just like her ex-lover to play a little cat and mouse before re-taking her. The sick bastard. He was so like his namesake, lying in wait until his prey came within striking distance. She hated the thought of being anywhere near him again. He’d almost killed her the last time.

A slight noise at the top of the hill she’d just descended caught her attention. The heavy footfall came again, followed by another, and another. Then the snap and crackle of broken brush. It sounded like a herd of elephants coming down the hill, which meant Chet and his stupid brothers had caught up to her. Amy quietly let out a disgusted breath. Damn it. She’d waited too long to cross the meadow. Now she was pinned down in her hiding spot. And if those three were here, Chambliss couldn’t be far away.

She’d have to—

An arm snaked around her from behind, hand clamping tight over her mouth. Amy didn’t waste time on screaming. She leaned back to put her attacker off balance, then threw her weight forward, trying to roll him beneath her. Satisfaction shot through her when she succeeded, only to change to chagrin when her attacker’s free arm and both legs wrapped around her, effectively trapping her. She had barely enough room to bring her hand around her hip, aiming for the tender flesh beneath the hard bulge pressing into her butt.

“Careful, sweetheart, we might need those later.”

Sniper Shots: Excerpt 3

Joshua sighed and went to the kitchen, wondering just how badly he’d screwed up. Never in his life had he slept with someone he was supposed to be guarding. If one of his men were to pull such a stupid stunt and Joshua found out about it, he’d bust them so far below private they’d never see NCO status again.

He tried to figure out how things had gotten so off course while he cleaned the couch with a damp cloth and a couple of sanitizer wipes. “Colby, you’re an idiot,” he muttered. “Completely certifiable.” He’d evidently taken too many shots to the head somewhere along the way. The only good thing to come out of this was the possibility that Amy might feel a little more inclined to go along with the whole engagement thing. Or not.

When she came back out of the bedroom a few minutes later, he had their steaks and vegetables warmed up and back on the table.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling and sitting across from him. She wore her own clothes. Joshua tried not to frown at the small rips and stains still visible. The reminder of her close brush with death sent a chill through him. The driver had to have been Velavich. Chet wanted her alive, not dead, and there wasn’t a third player in this deadly game that he knew of. He would have to keep a far closer eye on her than he’d intended. At least until his men got here. Three were due to arrive tomorrow. He’d already worked out a surveillance schedule designed to keep Amy covered twenty-four-seven. If Adrik Velavich so much as sneezed in her direction, he’d be in a NightHawks’ crosshairs.

The silence between them stretched into something almost companionable while they ate. Joshua was content to watch her devour the food he’d prepared. Plenty of time to get back to their verbal sparring match later.

“You’re a good cook,” she said, finally setting her fork down and picking up another roll. She bit into the bread with obvious relish.

Joshua shifted in his chair with a mental curse. He really shouldn’t be thinking about how good those even white teeth had felt against his skin. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

After another long silence, she brushed the crumbs from her fingers and leaned back in her chair. “All right.”

“All right, what?”

“All right, I’ll go along with your preposterous engagement scenario.”

Joshua smiled, feeling an absurd sense of relief. “Considering the rumor has no doubt already spread the length and width of the valley, I think you’ve made a wise decision.”

She snorted softly. “Believe me, I realize how fast news travels here. It’s not the reason I’m going along with your ridiculous plan. If I wanted to, I could deny I ever met you until yesterday.”

“You could, but no one would believe you.”

“Why not?”

“Because everyone knows I never lie.”

She blinked. “You really are delusional, aren’t you?”

Sniper Shots: Excerpt 2

“So you think misbehaving is part of my nature?”

Moonlight highlighted the humorous twinkle in her blue eyes. “I don’t think it, I know it. You forget I’ve been around Kyle and Farrah for almost a year. Just about every story Kyle tells about his past misadventures include a certain Joshua Andrew Colby. The evidence is clearly undeniable. You reek of misbehavior, mister.”

Joshua smiled easily. “In that case, have dinner with me tomorrow.” He really didn’t expect her to say yes. The only thing she knew about him was that he was friends with Kyle and Farrah. She didn’t know him. Which, given his line of work, was probably a good thing. No doubt she’d run away screaming if she ever found out.

Instead of a clipped “No,” and a door slammed in his face, Joshua was surprised at the sudden speculation in her gaze. His heart beat a little faster when she asked softly, “Why?”

He picked the light approach. “Because I think the playing field needs to be leveled. You know all about my misspent youth thanks to Kyle, but I don’t know anything about yours. Not to mention, you owe me for the scare your dog gave me. Damn beast almost gave me a heart attack.”

Smiling, not saying a word, she backed up the next step. He raised a brow and followed. “Retreating, Ms. Sheridan?”

“Just a matter of self preservation, Mr. Colby. Things are getting a little deep around here, if you know what I mean.”

“Are you accusing me of exaggerating?”

“More like flat-out lying. I can’t imagine the man who, as a boy, braved his neighbor’s angry dogs to rescue a baby skunk, being afraid of my Bors. What did you name the little thing again? Patches, Patty…?”

Joshua feigned a grimace. “Panda. And Kyle evidently failed to mention the angry dogs were a pair of Yorkie Terriers.”

“Ah, but size is relative. To a five-year-old, two Yorkies in full battle mode should at least equal one Bors today.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Fair enough. Far be it from me to tarnish my tough-guy image. I take back the part about the heart attack. Everything else is true, however, so I still need an answer. Dinner tomorrow, yes or no?”

She continued to smile and backed up again, planting both feet on her porch.

He tsked. “Don’t know if anyone’s told you, Ms. Sheridan, but it’s not a good idea to run from a predator. It tends to trigger their urge to chase you down.” Slowly, deliberately, he put first one foot, then the other, on the next step up. Instead of backing away this time, she leaned forward, making him wonder who was really doing the chasing.

“A predator, Mr. Colby? I thought you were a—” She broke off, lips suddenly pressed together in a tight line, as if literally holding back her next words.

“A what?” he coaxed.

She blinked, smiled, and looked at him from beneath her lashes in a way that made his blood run hot. “A man who ought to know better than to try using intimidation on a woman he’s just met. Really, I never would have expected you for the Neanderthal type. Chet, yes, but you?” Lips pursed in disapproval, she shook her head back and forth in a slow, playful gesture. The teasing look in her eyes brought to Joshua’s mind a long, steamy night of naughty sex.

Get your mind out of the gutter, Colby. She’s just a job. A target.

Targets, whether his or someone else’s, were always off limits. Always. That was the one rule he’d never had any problems following. Until now, damn it. For the first time in his military career, he found his libido more than willing to toss the rule book out the window.

Sniper Shots: Excerpt 1

Greetings all! In anticipation of the release of my newest book, Sniper Shots, I'm going to be posting several excerpts in the next few days...just to whet your appetite. Hope you enjoy!

**********************************************

Sunlight winked wickedly off shiny dark wood as Joshua raised the compound bow and pulled back string and arrow. Maybe a foot of space separated the girl and Chet now, less between their faces. Not much room for error.

He sighted down the straight length of polished wood, past the razor sharp point, and selected his target. He took a shallow breath, held it, and then released his attention-getter. The arrow zinged straight across the water, slipped between the girl and Chet, and sank into a skinny tree. The feathered fletching quivered close enough to tickle Chet’s nose.

Chet stumbled back, rubbing his face. “What the—”

Joshua aimed a second arrow at the tree next to the skinny sapling, noting the girl seemed frozen in place. Was she in shock? Damn, maybe he should have pinned Chet’s boots to the ground instead. Too late now.

He set the second arrow free. All three brothers stumbled back into each other, arms flailing like a trio of drunks. By the time they untangled and turned to look across the river, Joshua had a third arrow nocked and aimed in their direction. Chet shoved away from his brothers and stomped to the rail. “Fagan! Are you crazy?”

Kyle leaned casually against a matching rail, ostensibly taking the weight off his leg, and crossed his arms. “You and your brothers leave Amy alone, Chet.” He nodded in Joshua’s direction. “Or Josh here is going to stop aiming at trees.”

Chet squinted against the late afternoon sun. “Josh Colby, is that you? Damn it, man, this ain’t right! We’re just trying to be friendly here!”

“Go be friendly somewhere else,” Joshua advised, raising his voice over the noisy flow of water.

Kyle yelled again when the brothers didn’t show any immediate signs of backing off. “Look, Chet, you’ve been warned to stay away from Amy. Now back off or I’ll call Penwell and have him arrest your asses for harassment.”

Joshua stared at Chet over the point of the arrow. The younger man’s face flushed so dark with anger he looked like he was going to explode. The possibility made Joshua curse silently. He didn’t need this kind of shit. His orders were to lay low and keep his eyes and ears open, not get arrested his first day home for putting an arrow in the local bully.

Then Chet’s expression changed, smoothing out into a smile. He held up both hands. “All right, all right, have it your way.” He propped a booted foot against the guard rail and pointed a thumb in the girl’s direction. “Though with this kind of temptation running through the woods, I don’t see how you can blame me.” He leaned over and brushed his hand against his leg as if dusting off his jeans. He was so damn easy to read it was pathetic.

Focused on his target, Joshua’s peripheral vision still took in every movement the others made—Arney’s hand rubbing against the bulge of a knife in his jeans pocket, Franklin restlessly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Only the girl stayed still, for which Joshua was extremely grateful. She could cause problems if she took two steps in the wrong direction.

     Then she moved.

The Joys of Discovering a New-to-You Author: G.A. Aiken

Discovering a really good new-to-you author is like finding buried treasure in your back yard. You have to wonder why you didn’t find them sooner. Not to mention the instant case of greed you come down with. “Five books! She has five more books! There goes my Amazon allowance for the next month.” (And yes, I’m that generous with myself.)

I discovered G.A. Aiken not on Amazon as it turns out, but at my local Books-A-Million. There she was, sitting on the top shelf—well at least her books were. Lovely, no-nonsense covers with lovely half-naked men and the word DRAGON in every title. I couldn’t be more captivated. But were her books worth delving past those tempting covers? I’m happy to answer with a resounding yes!

Ms. Aiken has created a fascinating and complex world where dragons and humans co-exist—well, most of the time anyway. From Rhiannon, the white dragon queen, to mad queen Annwyl the Bloody, from Bercelak the Great to Feargus the Destroyer, all of her characters are larger than life and a joy to get to know.

And don’t get me started on her multifaceted dragon culture with its layers of social intrigue. Wars and battles abound, from major conflicts to family tussles—if you call bashing heads and tossing your sibling off the roof a tussle—which the Cadwaladr Clan does.

The other thing I have to mention is the dialogue. If you’ve sat through an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer just to listen to the rapid-fire dialogue, you’ll love these books. Never seen an episode? No problem. Trust me, you’re going to love the quips, zings, and general verbal mayhem which carry the various story lines to their wonderful and often humorous conclusions.

Without hesitation, I give each book a 5 out of 5. Oh, and for all you romance lovers, yeah, they have that, too…in abundance…frequently…as the dragons can shift to human form and waste no time taking naughty advantage of that little trait.

So thank you, Ms. Aiken, for sharing you wonderful imagination with the rest of us. I’m eagerly looking forward to the next Dragon Kin story.

The Romance Reviews Year End Splash (Yes!) Party

Drop by for a visit.
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July Blog Tour Winners!

Well, my July blog tour is over. I had lots of fun and got to meet a lot of very nice people. My thanks to everyone who visited, especially those who left a comment. The winner of my blog tour scavenger hunt is Desi, who commented on my blog on Paty Jager’s website. Desi has won a very nice prize basket full of neat goodies including a $25 Amazon gift card, signed copies of both Bloodsworn books, and much more. Congratulations, Desi!

Since my blog on Paty’s site also had the most comments, I drew an extra name for another $25 Amazon card. Congratulations to Marianne!

Thanks also to the kind ladies who hosted me during the tour. Your help in getting the word out about my new book, Bloodsworn II: Linked by Blood, is vastly appreciated. I sincerely hope to return the favor one day soon.

And to my Bloodsworn fans, keep checking here for information on a new Bloodsworn novella coming soon! Kiel Na-Turesh is a young man with a past that’s about to catch up to him. And when she does, watch out.

Digi Books Café Summer Hunt

Need a break from the summer heat? Hop on the computer for a digital scavenger hunt sponsored by Digi Books Cafe. 3 months; 3 hunts; 3 prizes (Kindle eReaders!) What could be easier?  Go to http://www.digibookscafe.com/ for complete details. While you're there, don't forget to check out my newest Bloodsworn book, Linked by Blood. Happy Reading--and Hunting--to all!

July Blog Tour Continues!

Hi Everyone! Hope you’re enjoying the wonderful month of July. (LOL) Yes, it’s hot and rainy down here in Florida, but July comes right before my birthday, so I have to love it.

Anyway, here are the next stops along my internet travels.

July 12th I’m being interviewed by Amber Kallyn at Plot Mamas: http://bit.ly/o4Kizz
July 15th (RELEASE DAY!) Amber is doing a Book Expo on Linked by Blood at: http://bit.ly/oBYGSg
July 18th I’ll be guest blogging with Allison Chambers at: http://alisonchambers.blogspot.com

Come join the fun, find out a little about my writing style and my Bloodsworn series. Don’t forget to leave a comment for a chance at the nifty prize package at month end.

Hope to see you there.

Bloodsworn Places 1st in 2011 PRISM Contest

Other than having a fan tell you they like your book, there's nothing like a little public recognition to give a boost-to-your-muse. When I entered the 2011 PRISM Contest held by the Fantasy, Futuristic, and Paranormal chapter of RWA, I had no real expectations. This was my first published book. I liked it, my friends and family liked it, but would a group of perfect strangers? Then I got the call telling me I finaled! Wow, talk about exciting. To final alongside other published authors was a big deal to me--some of them multi-published. Maybe I was on the right track with this writing career after all.

Then July 1st, Friday morning came and with it an email that I never expected. Bloodsworn: Bound by Magic won FIRST PLACE in the Fantasy category. AND BEST FIRST BOOK!!! Needless to say, I was flying all day. Called my niece first, of course. She's responsible for getting me into this business in the first place, so she can darn well share the credit. Then called my sons, my brothers, and, oh, yeah, my editor. Can't forget Frances Sevilla. Wonderful woman and a great writer herself. We may not always see eye to eye on every little detail, but she definitely knows her stuff.

My only regret is not being able to make it to New York to attend The Gathering where they announced the winners. Would have been awesome to accept the recognition in person. But hey, maybe next year. Bloodsworn 2 is due out this month and there's no telling where it might take me. Here's to looking forward to new adventures!

July Blog Tour and Contest

Hi Everyone!  Happy July!  Come join me for a month-long tour where I talk about everything from Sexy Secondary Characters to Evil Villains to, well, who knows? Each time you visit one of my blogs and leave a comment, your name goes into a drawing for a prize package that includes a $25 Amazon gift card, free copies of both Bloodsworn books, and more. Also, there's another $25 Amazon card which I'll give away to one lucky commentor on whichever blog site receives the most comments. So come along on my very first tour!

July 1st I'll be with Rebekkah Niles at www.juturnafaerthing.blogspot.com
July 6th I'm visiting the Wild West with romance author Patty Jager at http://patyjager.blogspot.com/
and on July 9th I'm Hunting Dragons with author Jeanne Guzman at http://romanceinflight.blogspot.com/

Stay tuned for more stops on my magical month-long tour celebrating the release of my second book: Bloodsworn II: Linked by Blood.

Doughnuts to Donuts--What's your favorite?

I recently saw a sign that sent me into sugary transports. A Krispy Kreme is coming to my town. Wow! Talk about anticipation!


To pass the time, I checked out doughnuts on the Internet. Did you know doughnuts were supposedly first introduced to North America by the Dutch, who called the fried dough prepared in pig fat, olykoek, or oily cake? They were a far cry from the doughnuts we Americans think of today. The pictures I’ve found remind me more of an apple fritter than anything else. Oh, and the hole in the middle? That little modification is credited to an American sea captain by the name of Hanson Crockett Gregory around 1847, though the story itself varies.

To be fair, modern doughnuts are as internationally diverse as the human population. Pick a country, and it probably has its on take on the sweet pastry. Beignet (France), vada (India), sufganyiot (Israel), Berliner (Germany), rosquilla (Spain), are just a handful. Since I’m by no means an international traveler, (I rarely get out of Florida), my doughnut choices are strictly domestic. Here are my top five favorites.

#5: The standard yeast doughnut with maple icing topped with nuts. Sometimes I snag the one with the hole in the middle, and sometimes I go for the rolled one with the hint of cinnamon. (One of my main weaknesses.)
#4: The mini doughnuts you find at fairs or flea markets. You know, the ones you can watch being cooked and get hot out of the oil, sprinkled with cinnamon sugar? Yeah, that smell draws me in every time.
#3: The Dunkin Donut blueberry cake donut with a touch of glaze. I always expect them to be heavy because they’re cake, not yeast, but they never fail to surprise me by melting in my mouth. Major comfort food!
#2: The Krispy Kreme cream filled with chocolate icing. (White cream, not Bavarian, please.) Talk about a sugar rush! I try to limit myself to two a year.
#1: And the ultimate in doughnut bliss? The no muss, no fuss, original glazed Krispy Kreme yeast doughnut—preferably hot off the assembly line. Mmmmm. There’s just something about the taste, smell, and texture that can’t be duplicated.

So, store bought or home made? Yeast or cake? Glazed, iced, or powdered? Holed or filled? Tell me, what’s your favorite doughnut/donut?

Going Where Your Story Takes You

     I grew up smack dab in the middle of the Sunshine state, surrounded by orange groves, woods, and swamps. The perfect setting for a book, right? Why then, you might ask, does my recently published book, Bloodsworn: Bound by Magic, start out in northern California and end up on another world half way across the galaxy? One word: Plot.

     We, as writers, sometime have no control over where the story takes us. The setting has to fit the plot. For instance, Stephanie Myers’ Twilight series would have been another story altogether if set in sunny Florida instead of Forks, Washington. Edward might never have been allowed to sparkle in sunlight since it’s sunny here most every day. Another plot-line would be needed for him to be able to attend school—or maybe he might not have gone to school at all. He would have had to meet Bella on a dark and stormy night, making Twilight more like Midnight. See what I mean?
     Going where your story takes you means being a bit flexible, too. You might want to write about New Orleans, but if the plot calls for snow, you’re out of luck. Sure, you can change the plot line to fit the location, but again we’re talking about changing the whole aspect of the story. Instead of a snowball fight between your main characters ending in a sweet first kiss, they’re tossing sugar-coated beignets at one another and ending up...
     Hmmm. Well maybe that’s not such a bad plot change after all. (LOL) Okay, time to shelve the first story and head off to New Orleans’ Café Du Monde for a hot-blooded beignet battle. Powdered sugar anyone?

Hot off the Press

WOW! My book is here. It’s actually here, in my house, in my hands. My son laughed as I picked the book up out of the box for the first time. I held the darn thing so tight that if it had been alive I would have choked it. Laying it down for any length of time has been hard. And yes, while I thought I’d read and re-read it enough during the writing and editing phases, I immediately opened it up and started reading it again.


Foolish? Maybe. A bit narcissistic? Who cares? I will say it’s a whole different feeling reading it in finished book form than reading it on the computer. There’s definitely a sense of accomplishment involved. And yes, a sense of pride. Not only did I take an idea and build a 100,000 word story around it, but I managed to find a publisher who felt the story was one other people might enjoy reading. The prospect is humbling.

Release date is September 24th, but you can pre-order your print copy now by going to www.thewildrosepress.com. Print copies are $15.99 and digital copes are $7.00.

The cover, by Tamra Westberry, is great. The back cover—which I’d never seen before—is cool. And if you’ll pardon me tooting my own horn, the inside is freaking awesome! But don’t take my word for it. Get a copy for yourself and let me know what you think. I welcome informed opinions.

Writing: Just one Hot Romance After Another

I was recently on a flight out to Las Vegas. Yeah, Vegas, baby. Sin City, land of the evil slot machines. Thank God it only took one session to cure me of my urge to gamble. But that's another story.


While on the plane, (Delta, flight something-or-other) I started looking through the Sky magazine they stash in the seat pocket. You know, something to pass the four hours from Atlanta to Vegas. Anyway, I got to the very last page and what do you know, there's an article about writing. The article is called "Writing, a Romance" and it's by author Libba Bray. Ms. Bray writes novels for young adults, including A Great and Terrible Beauty, The Sweet Far Thing, and Going Bovine. In the article, she compares the process of writing and publishing a novel to that of a romance. Very insightful.

For instance, in the early stages, an author is star-struck by how clever and special her new bow, I mean, book, is. The romance blossoms, lasting all the way through the first draft as they see each other every day. "My book is so easy to talk to. I'm seeing my book again tomorrow. I can't wait." *SIGH*

Unfortunately, that first rush of infatuation begins to fade when the revisions start. That time in a romance when you realize you've done everything together and you start repeating yourself. The lines of communication blur and the author begins to see a flaw here and there in her book. Nothing major...yet. But as the months pass, things get pretty rough. Phrases like, "I hate you!" and "I wish I'd never met you" start to crop up more and more when author and book are together. Friends become concerned, wondering if they should step in and stop the word abuse.

By the third draft, the author has become completely disillusioned and just wants the difficult relationship to end. With the encouragement of friends (and her editor), she pulls herself together and breaks it off with the demanding book, realizing that there are definitely other fish in the sea.

Days of copy edits pass--brief exchanges of polite small talk that get further and further apart until the author wakes up one morning and realizes she hasn't seen her book for months. She's finally able to put the whole emotional episode behind her with a feeling that she's come out of it a stronger writer. Even when she runs into her finished book in a book store one day, she's able to smile. She might feel a twinge of excitement at first, a touch of pride that she had something to do with transforming a mild-mannered plot-bunny into such a polished book-about-town. They might even spend a nostalgic afternoon reminiscing about the good times, recalling the creation of funny phrases and plot twists that just fell into place. But both know it's time to move on. He has a date with a reader down the street and she's been seeing a cute plot that kept her up half the night last Wednesday whispering sweet prose in her ear. Ah, L`Amore.

Thank you Libba Bray for giving me a fresh perspective on an author's life. Now if you'll excuse me, I also have a date with this really hot story that has the most gorgeous phrases and cutest metaphors you've ever seen. *SIGH* We were made for each other. Really.