I’m bored. You’re bored. Let’s give some shit away!
I’m bored. You’re bored. Let’s give some shit away!
I haven’t put up a blog in a while. For the most part, its because I haven’t left the house since March 16th. I’m not even joking about that fact. I went to work on March 16th, came home and then OSU was a complete, work from home, situation. I’ve gone out to walk around the block or ride my bike with Scarlett, but that’s about it. I keep reading posts online about how people are getting stir crazy. yeah, I don’t have that problem. Us Gen Xers could live out this pandemic and be the only survivors and never know it because we still wouldn’t leave our house.
So, since I have ZERO content due to the fact that I haven’t left the house in two weeks, I decided to give you an “opportunity”/reason to have a glass of wine.
Self-Care Bingo. You’re welcome!
Since it’s almost time for all the holiday hoopla, I thought I’d give you a little snippet of what I’m working on right now, Residual Magic. I wish I could say that it was because I was being nice but you know better than that. Its because I’m tired from all the baking, shopping, wrapping, and cleaning. I’ve got nothing else to share. So, with no further ado, here’s your snippet:
This is an unedited excerpt. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!
“What two cents? I have no money,” Wynne replied, confused and a part of me smiled to myself. Having been stuck in a vast wasteland of desert and mirrors the succubus-witch had dubbed the in-between for more than a millennium, sometimes Wynne’s understanding of colloquialisms wasn’t up to scratch. “Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that you are young and stupid. How many times have you cried over that boy? Too many to count by my opinion.” She huffed at me as if I was wasting her time. All she had was time. Plus, I was pretty sure she secretly loved it. I’d come to understand that Wynne liked to be needed. Who didn’t though? That was the point, wasn’t it? I wanted to be wanted and needed and it didn’t seem like Ev wanted or needed me that badly. A thought suddenly occurred to me. Maybe Tag did.
“Well, you’ll be glad to know that I have a date tonight,” I said, my chin high. When she stared at me, the words clearly not registering in her mind I added, “I’m going to be spending time with someone tonight . . . a man.”
“The boy finally became a man,” she grumbled and this time I wasn’t so sure she’d intended for me to hear her.
“Ev?” I asked, confused but continued on, “No, Tag. I’m going to dinner with Tag.”
“The soul stealer?” she asked and I could hear the surprise and disgust in her voice. I could almost see her bright blue eyes the size of saucers in astonishment.
“Wynne,” I sighed. “Red heads don’t steal souls. They just don’t. But you know who does?” I asked and she was quiet for a moment, waiting. “Succubi. Succubi steal souls and that’s you.” When she didn’t respond – because I had her on that one – I said, “Tag is a nice guy. He’s steady. And he wants me.”
“Ahh,” she responded in a way that made my blood boil, as if she saw everything and I clearly saw nothing.
“Ahh? What does ahhh mean?” I hissed, angry now. It felt good to be angry and show it. Turns out, I’d been angry for a while.
“Nothing,” she clipped, pleased with herself. “Just . . . ahh. Have fun on your . . . date,” she said with a snide lilt. And in the blink of an eye, she was gone, retreating back into her amulet to let me stew. I hated when she did that. She put just enough doubt in my head to make me second guess everything. Wynne was just mean.
“I will!” I snapped at her, knowing full well she wasn’t listening. I plopped down on my bed and sighed. I would have a good time with Tag. I always had a good time with Tag. We were friends and I wouldn’t let Wynne’s nagging doubts cast a shadow on our date. This wouldn’t be weird at all.
If you got my newsletter, you got this on June 26th. Congrats on your awesome taste by following my newsletter. If not, then you get this two and a half weeks later.
Dahlia, Dean, and Patrick are attempting a political coup of the supernatural world. Gathering allies to upset the balance and throw off the shackles of the ancients won’t be easy. But to live alongside humans instead of in their shadow, they’ll have to overcome enemies at every turn; vampires, shifters, the fae, and humans.
Baba Yaga, the queen of the dark fae, has her own designs for Dahlia. Moving her chess pieces on the board, the ancient witch has set a trap to draw The Blushing Death back into her clutches. To possess Dahlia and the power of Fertiri magic for her own purposes, Baba Yaga will do almost anything -sacrifice anyone – to rise to power once more.
Racing to survive Baba Yaga’s traps and rescue two of her wolves, Dahlia enters Baba Yaga’s mountain understanding that she may never come out again.
Pre-Order Link Coming Soon!
Because I write series books, it’s very important that I can keep facts straight;descriptions (which I forget), magical items (which I make up, sooo, that can be hard to remember), and random shit I include that does’t seem important at the time and turns out to be pivotal. Continue reading Organizational Aids
I’ve got nothing today. So, instead, I thought I’d give you a little snippet from Violet Abyss coming in May. I’m working on the 1st round edits now.
This is the lazy way out…I know.
“As much as I appreciate the distraction, we need to talk about this.” I sighed, still feeling the endorphins coast through my system and unable to keep the grin from my face.
“Do we?” Dean growled.
“Yes.” I grabbed my T-shirt and slung it over my head, tossing it across the room. It was covered in sweat and sex. I couldn’t wear it downstairs in a house filled with shifters that would smell it a mile away. “You know it’s a trap, right?”
“Yes,” Dean growled beside me, sliding his hand across the lace of my bra.
My nipple puckered again under the warm caress of his hand.
“And yet, the only way to curry favor with the other Territorial Lieges is to attend.” Patrick stretched out beside me, lithe and lean like a satisfied cat.
“When was the last time a gathering of this type happened?” I asked Patrick, watching the muscles ripple beneath his alabaster skin, still marred by the scars caused by silver spikes when he’d been tortured in Faerie. I was getting used to them, almost not even seeing them anymore but when I did notice, a pang of guilt always twisted my stomach into knots. It wasn’t my fault, but I hadn’t saved him in time to stop it. For that, I would never forgive myself.
“Well, hell,” I snorted. “That can’t be good.”
“You said it,” Dean added, his voice a deep rumble in his chest.
“So, what’s our plan?” I asked, feeling the endorphins wearing off and the edge of anxiety making my blood pressure rise.
“Stay alive,” Dean snorted.
“We must demonstrate our power, our self-reliance, and resources to the Territorial Lieges. We must also show our superiority over the Lebensblut board. We must give the Territorial Lieges a reason to side with us or this entire endeavor will be fruitless. A rebellion of sorts is in order and this conclave is our best chance to gain support,” Patrick said, his voice harsh but firm. A sexy, gruff tone I recognized from that night in Crimson when he’d shoved me up against a wall, not knowing if he was going to kill me or kiss me. He’d kissed me and it had been one hell of a kiss.
“What you’re saying is that I shouldn’t hide who and what I am . . .”
“No, baby, no hiding this time,” Dean grumbled.
“Correct. No hiding. We want them to fear us. We want each of them to weigh their options and find Konyam and the board lacking.” Patrick brushed a strand of my long, blond hair from my face. His cool fingers brushed across my forehead and I shivered in the humid New Orleans air.