Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Daniel's British GQ Turn

Whenever my favorite actor gives and interview I have to admit, I get like a kid in a candy store. I know there are going to be photos. Most definitely the cover shot and maybe a few inside. Either by the magazine or those provided by the studio as film stills and I think: potential story characters. The interviews are nice, if not revealing  which is the last thing I think Daniel wants. And what got revealed was his disdain for the loss of his privacy and the way some people so easily trade away theirs then ask for it make. Re: the Kardashians.

He had a lot to say including calling them f***ing idiots. What it came down to was this, he thinks that because they're fame w***** and now, in the wake of a botched marriage they want their privacy. He said it doesn't work like that. Which is true. And when you're famous for being famous that's part of the deal.

You get the sense he works really hard to keep his private life private but that wen it comes to his work he'll tell you anything you want to know. I can't stand the Kardashians the television show. But I don't know them and don't pretend to. But I suppose I put my personal life on blast to some degree on this blog. But it's not to get famous. For me it's about having a place to vent and to celebrate. I've always been an open person. Although if you met me in person I'd probably be incredibly shy. The internet allows for a false sense of anonymity that you really can't find anywhere else.

So even though people know a great deal about me thanks to this blog I'd dare say they don't really know me, which is kind of what I love about Daniel Craig so much. By keep his private life private, it allows me to project whatever characters I want onto that ever so yummy shell. LOL

Again I'm much braver on this blog than I'd ever be face to face. For everyone out there writing on this last day NaNoWriMo good luck and congratulations! 

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Morning Musings

Yesterday I finished a story that could have probably been published but because I have the patience of a gnat I decided to post it to the internet. But people say you should share short pieces with your fanbase. Of course, that's assuming I have one lol.

So here's the link It's the story I was talking about yesterday. I hope you read it and enjoy it and take the time to give me some feedback. Of course, at the same time I'm terrified that you'll hate it.

Of course I have my morning fuel, coffee. And my dreams, meeting Daniel Craig and trying not to be mortified when I tell him just how many of my heroes he's inspired. LOL

Something I should mention, coming up in the next few weeks I am going to have the privilege of hosting Real Andrews in an interview where we'll be talking about Bipolar Disorder, coping with it, more specifically how to cope with it during the holidays. Be on the lookout for it.

Have a good one and happy scribbles!

Monday, November 28, 2011

A Pot Of Coffee & A Hero

It's often I wake up in the morning not sure what the hell it is I'm going to write about for the blog. So what's with this pot of coffee and a hero all about? Well, on the best of mornings I wake up and I have some idea of where I'm going, maybe not a road map but an emotional hook that lets me know of how great things can be if I just get out of the way when my Muse is clicking.

I do best when the emotional hook is dark and intense and I can feel what the characters are feeling. When the world falls away and I'm in the zone it's the greatest experience in the world. The icing on the cake is when the publisher or agent says yes, but the real joy comes in that first flush of creation. You're getting to know the characters and everything around them. Sure there are corrections to be made and rewrites to be done but all of that comes later.

For now you're falling in love and having adventures along with your characters and you don't have to worry about that boring thing called life;) lol. Well, not too boring.

My current story is steeped in a gritty real life tale. It tells the story of Starr Elizabeth and Jack Harris and how they're getting through the night of the execution of the man who brought them together in the first place, her father Stan.

Jack is former FBI Agent and Starr is a singer trying to get by. Here's a picture of Jack Harris:
I know life as we know it just wouldn't be the same without a Daniel Craig hero would it?

Well the coffee seems to be ready. Stay tuned, maybe I'll post a little of SET FIRE TO THE RAIN tomorrow. It's not an erotica piece so it would be more appropriate for general audiences.

Until then, as my friend Elise VanCise would say, happy scribbles.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

The Writing Of No Ordinary Love

By the grace of my Higher Power I currently have an e-book released from Muse It Up Publishing. When someone who had read it said it was a good book I got incredibly embarrassed. I couldn't take the compliment. The process of writing for me is a personal one and while I love to do it and I want people to read it I wasn't prepared for someone to actually tell me they had read it.

The process was simple. I saw a trailer for Cowboys & Aliens and I got the idea to write a sci-fi erotica with a half-breed human/alien that looked a whole heck of a lot like Daniel Craig. And while like I said I want people to read it and like it it's almost as if people are taking a look inside my head and soul and that is hard.

When I sat down to write it it was like a story clamoring to get out of my head and onto paper. In some ways I wish I could tell the people who inspired it. But then the content is pretty hot and like I said it would either embarrass me or if they looked down on it would break my heart so exposing myself like that would be a dicey proposition.

I'm still looking for desitheblonde to give them their free copy of No Ordinary Love as the winner of last week's contest.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Quiet Time

When I wake up early in the morning and have the opportunity to listen to Adele that's often when I feel the most calm and connected to everything around me. Some would call it prayer time or otherwise. That's how I find I feel I'm most connected to my Higher Power. I'm not the most fundamentalist girl. As a matter of fact, the fire and brimstone kind of preaching is a real turn off. I've spent most of my life afraid of those around me and there have been situations I wasn't sure I was going to make it out of okay but I believe in a loving Presence that can do great things.

I spent a great deal of my childhood being bullied with no one defending me. And kindness and loyalty are qualities I consider important when seeking out friendships and connections with others. But even though I don't choose to expose myself to fire and brimstone kind of preaching I do believe in the power of God and His infinite love for us.

Christmas is my favorite time of year. Not because of the presents I receive, but because of the presents I get to give. Whether they're emotional or physical I think I'm most appreciative of things that a lot of times you don't think about except for when you're struggling.

I was born with Bi-polar Disorder. And struggling with it isn't something I would wish on anyone. But there are easier days than others and while yesterday was a recovery day. I spent most of my Thanksgiving Day out and my only down time was watching Casino Royale and finally falling asleep while Quantum of Solace was on. (Thank you Syfy network).

Of course now I'm on a James Bond kick. Well, a Daniel Craig James Bond kick. It's hard to get that image of him emerging out of the water like some kind of Greek god out of my head along with that hero willing to do anything for God and Country and save the girl. Very attractive.

Well, that's it for the week if desitheblonde would contact me at I will arrange for a free copy of my ebook No Ordinary Love to be sent to you :).

Friday, November 25, 2011


I keep hearing the song Rumour Has It by Adele and I watched Casino Royale and Quantum of Solace last night and I want to write a James Bond-Mystery thriller romance kind of thing again. So I'm thinking of putting REBEL aside for the moment and letting it sit before I go back and start it over whole scale again with the story now that I've figured out the plot. 

Something about Craig's Bond that gets my bad ass freak flag flying for the guy and the girl. This story is going to be gritty, noirish and set in the future. Maybe mystery maybe suspense.

I should always set out to tell the story and worry about agents and publishers later. I tend to writer long novellas  or short stories these days. Do I have what it takes to write a full length novel?

I often set a goal for myself when writing the story. But my best results come when I'm just having fun. I just hear Adele singing and can see a girl riding her motorbike like a bat of hell. Trying to figure out what the story should be. But first I need a bad ass hero who can take on a bad ass heroine.

She wears jeans her hair is the color of blue koolaid and she has the memory of an elephant. Her eyes are green and she knows how to get the job done.  Or maybe not.

He's a retired CIA agent working as an investigative journalist. Maybe. Maybe not. I want an adventure the reads like a film watches. To ambitious full of myself. That's a good possibility. But nothing feels as good as a new story grabbing you and taking you away for a great ride.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Breaking Bread

Spending this morning smelling the green beans cooking away lets me know that yes it is indeed Thanksgiving and that a delicious, yet long day lays ahead of me. I find my family on days like these makes me yearn for those perfect days of peace and tranquility. But let's get real those pictures of those families for some of us are few and far between and our circle of friends and family that we can trust and love are smaller. That being said I am very grateful for the last year.

This last year I became a published author of fiction for the first time thanks to and with my books No Ordinary Love and Another Way To Die. For that I would like to give thanks. 

And even though they make me batshit crazy at times I'll give my family a shoutout. Because I'm certainly going to be eating like a mad dog at the meal we all had a hand in preparation of. My friend in the cheesecake, me in the green beans, my Dad(John) in the turkey and cornbread stuffing and everyone else for sure.

To my best friend for her support when I went through my doubts as a writer. Yes I know I got published but  sometimes the doubt can plague you in the best of times. To my other friends you know who you are for your support as well.

To my heroes just for being who they are. I know you all are just human but you represent the dream and that is invaluable.

And finally to those who aren't with us anymore I wish you were here with us because it simply isn't the same without you.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone. And when you sit down to break bread try to enjoy the holiday and that it is about progress not perfection. But if you happen to a Roseanne style Thanksgiving remember, you're in the majority after all and that the Turkey will indeed make it all better LOL.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011


New found faith in REBEL kept me from ditching both stories and I'm telling you a fresh cup of coffee sets you on the right path every time. That, a ripping 'soundtrack' to listen to. For GLADIATOR it was the Gladiator score. For REBEL it's Adele.

Led by the cracking tune 'Rumour Has It'.

The song has that badass snap and pop needed for the character of Amelia Walker, a tough as nails rebel with a soft heart in need of healing. For the man with only a first name, Luke and no memory and flashes of memory I thought this song was appropriate.

REBEL might take a little more elbow grease than the GLADIATOR did but I am happy with the arc the story has taken. A little late night writing has kept me going. And the caffeine was wonderful to.

And to think I get to drink coffee with these characters everyday if I choose :). As someone who commented on my blog said, some times life is just so hard :)

So Daniel, here's to you and your work. I'm glad you like the badass role because you make it easy for me to imagine characters which embody those qualities.

And while I'm at it a quick shoutout to my friends Missy, Pam, Elise, and Carla. You all are my rock and I wouldn't be able to get through the day without you on some days.

Happy Thanksgiving to my MUSE family as well and my heroes and You all help me get through the day one way or another. I'm not sure I'll post tomorrow or not but if not have lots of turkey and stuffing and cranberry sauce.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Re-Write Nightmare

Here I am sitting down and realizing that three separate stories can be combined into the same one. Having received two form rejections in a week's time I guess it's time to get to a nitty gritty rewrite. I haven't been sure where to take the whole REBEL story and even though this is tantamount to chucking the baby out with the bathwater I have to accept the fact there are three siblings I introduced. The Healer, The Oracle, and the Queen.And in GLADIATOR it was all about sex, sex, sex and the world healing. When I tried to write REBEL I started having problems with the plot and realized, 39 pages in that it's probably part of the GLADIATOR story as is the Queen's tale. So God help me a full scale rewrite of the concept is in order.

I will post excerpts as they go through their many forms. But one thing is for certain. If GLADIATOR in it's final form doesn't get picked up I may consider self-publishing again just because I want to get the story out there. If the houses with my novella right now like what they have I hope they will like the version I have penned this time around.

Two houses down. Four to go.

I haven't been particularly good at finishing a series but hopefully this book reads more like an epic as opposed to a series. Not that series are bad. It's just that I'm not particularly good at writing them. I could say, I give up. I quit. In fact with bad weather coming my way I'm tempted to say just that, rejection is not fun.

But my screenwriting instructor once said, if one person said it you can dismiss it. If two mention it you should probably take a look at it. I think there's something to be said for that and my Christmas shopping list just gave me an idea for the story, rather something I saw at Big Lots in the arts and crafts scrapbooking section did.

Here are the men of my story:



The women of my story-



Haven't gotten a picture of the Queen but think Isabelle Adjani. Beautiful woman . Looks fragile but would have to be tough enough to be a power hungry, loveless queen.

LOL just enjoy the pics and when the story comes along I'll share some bits with you.

Monday, November 21, 2011

What I'm Thankful For Today- Rated R Language & Sexual Situations (Rebel Excerpt)

I should start of by saying this chapter is sexually graphic in some areas in both language and situations so if you don't wish to read it then you should probably stop reading now. But that being said it's not all that today's entry is about.

While I had to give some serious thought as to what I was grateful for it was a relatively easy answer. Some people yearn to go back to childhood and fantasize about easier times I know that crap isn't true. While it is easier in some respects, you aren't the one paying for the bills depending on how your parents handle it you can be made acutely aware of  it. Now's no different. I never worried I would go hungry as a kid. At least I thought I didn't. But my battle with my weight now speaks to a whole host of issues.

But I'm complaining. I said I was grateful. But for what? Good friends in adulthood. Especially my best friend Missy Goodman. When there was and is no one she is there with a shoulder to cry on and and easy ear to listen. Whether it's in celebration or decimation she's my sister from another mister.

I'm also grateful for my passion for the arts and the ability to string words together in order to form a tale and be passionate about my stories when no one else might care I give thanks for. (And a special shoutout to my friends Pam and Elise for their friendship.)

To my publishing house Muse and everyone there, you all are the best. And while I wait to hear back on GLADIATOR and work on REBEL you wait to hear with me in a way.

That being said I am most grateful to these people for fueling my creative imagination:

They often serve as the hero and heroine models sometimes with different colored hair in my stories. Sometimes their even the villains instead. Of course I'm most grateful for my sanity and I it to these people for being so open about their own story for that.

Now to top it all off I'm running a contest this week and sharing an excerpt of REBEL. Leave a comment and be in the running for a free copy of my newest release: NO ORDINARY LOVE! And as my friend Elise would say, happy scribbles!

It was night time and like the odd weather the Great Healing was want to do it was making the night more difficult to get through than the day. Blu had managed to find another cave but finding dry wood had proven more difficult. And now, as he worked the bullet from the half delirious rebel the little fire he’d managed to build was barely enough of a heat generator to keep either one of them warm, let alone both of them.
     “There we are,” he said extracting the bloodied bullet. “Nasty little bugger.” He went back in to see if any clothing or other objects had been driven into the wound. “And there we go,” he exhaled pulling out a piece of red cloth with a pair of tweezers.
     He did his best to disinfect the wound and patch it up. The wind howled as it ripped through him and her, putting out the fire completely. He lifted her up and moved her into the cave. In the past he had encountered bats and bears as well as other humans hiding or camping out. Fortunately they were alone this time.
     Her teeth were chattering. And she was pulling at him and murmuring, “No, you can’t go Cain. You can’t go.” She thrashed about, pulling and pushing at him. Starting to cry she was shouting now, “We can’t leave him! I don’t care he’s my husband! Ian! Ian! Ian!”
     Her whole body shook as he tried to calm her down. Her body was scorching hot to the touch. His heart broke for her even though his heart normally broke for no one, not even himself. Finally she stopped fighting and she clung to him murmuring, “I won’t let what happened to him, happen to you. I won’t what happened to him happen to you. I won’t let what happened to him happen to you.”
     He just held onto her. She was lost in her own grief stricken world and reaching her would be pointless. She had went out in search of her husband, a dead man, and in his place, had found him. He almost felt guilty. If only because the feeling of her soft form against his hard one was a welcome sensation.
     He wrapped her tight against him for the warmth but when she relaxed against him he leaned to the wall of the cave and cradled her head gently. She turned and rested her cheek to his chest.
     “I may have watched him take the bullets to his chest but I just wanted to bring him home.”
     What did he say to that? People died all the time in this world, even with climate changing for the better and the Queen in exile. He said nothing and just kissed the top of her head.
     “I was supposed to die. I was primary. But he shoved me out of the way at the last second. I held him you know. I watched all the color drain from his face and…the others in the unit dragged me kicking and screaming back to camp.”
     He bunched her hair at her neck and pressed his lips to her temples. “You have a reckless streak a mile wide. You were willing to die for those men today. I don’t think they felt the same way about you.”
     “It happens. Familiarity breeds contempt. They don’t really support the Healer out here. I’m an anomaly. It’s why they have me in such a leadership role. I represent what they think is coming. They’re hedging they’re bets.”
     “Do you really believe in the Healer and her Gladiator protector?”
     “I don’t know what to believe. I know I was gladiator. Favored by one of the Queen’s outlying lieutenants I fought all the time. I never knew rest until one day the Earth shook, the skies opened and everything was just washed away.”
     “How’d you survive?”
     “Ian found me unconscious and left for dead by the lieutenant and nursed me back to health. From then on it was just us. We were never officially married, but you know we lived it so we were married.”
     “No wonder you still miss him.”
     “I can’t get the final image of him out of my mind. It blocks everything else out.”
     “Do you think had the Healer been there she could have saved him?”
     “There’s always talk of that, but at what point do you say enough is enough? Each time she heals someone or thing it nearly kills her, right? I can’t imagine what her protector would feel if suddenly she were gone.”
     “Do you imagine it less or more than the pain you feel now?”
     “Don’t know. And I wouldn’t care to put that on anybody. It’s cold.”
     He rubbed her arms and back and held her close. He felt the goosebumps rise against his touch.
     “I just miss him. And I thought if I could just bring him home it might fill the hole he left when he died.”
     He said nothing. Holes like that rarely ever got filled. Even he knew that. He stroked her hair.
     “You ever wonder if what else they say about the Healer is true?” he asked.
     “What? That there’s an Oracle out there somewhere that will change the game all over again.”
     He laughed softly, “That’s a crock. There are no such things as oracles, let alone the Oracle.”
     “I said the same thing about the Healer until the day everything turned upside down.”
     “How old are you, Amelia?”
     “Too old for my thirty years. What about you?”
     “Too old for my forty-one.”
     They both chuckled. “Making it back to headquarters is going to be risky, we should probably get some rest.”
     “Moving you now? Too much of a risk.”
     “Blu, what’s your real name?”
     “Honestly, I dunno. I woke up in the middle of the desert one day and it was the only word about myself that I could remember.”
     “I’m going to call you by the name on your tattoo. I happened to see when I was staring at your back.”
     “I don’t have a tattoo on my back.”
     “Yes you do. I have one too. Only when they branded me they branded me with my name, Amelia. I’m going to call you Luke, because Blu is a stupid name conjured up by stupid people.”
     “You calling me stupid?” He asked playfully taking her hand.
     She finally looked up at him with a flame of desire in her eyes. “No, I’m calling you too sexy for a stupid name like Blu.”
     She was shivering against him but her clothes had long since dried. And in the cave they were buffeted from the wind. The only explanation for the look was that she might be going into shock and think he was her deceased husband.
     She took his hand and guided it to her breast and said, “I’m cold.”
     His cock, if not swollen before was stiffening now. And although he was not above using a woman for a purely physical release there was something to this girl that wasn’t with the others. He wasn’t in love with her and she certainly was needy. But from the moment she’d looked down at him she’d proven more powerful than the visions that often overtook him and left him unable to speak or move.
     She cut him off. “I don’t want to think. I just want to feel. I just want to forget.”
     At first he hesitated but when she buried her fingers in his hair he lowered his mouth to hers. He slid his tongue through her lips and began to squeeze and stroke her breast.
He drug his mouth down her chin pressed his lips in soft, heated kisses along her neck. She moaned as he slid his hand up her shirt and unclasped her bra.
     Cupping her breast he warmed her skin as he stroked her nipple into a hardened peak. She sank her teeth into his neck and he moaned as she reached between his legs and stroked his cock through his pants. He pinned her to her back and unzipped her pants. Pushing them off her hips he fumbled with his own jeans and kicked them down to his ankles.
     His cock sprang out from a nest of dark, moist curls and she spread her legs. Her scent invaded his nostrils and a yearning filled his chest and beat throughout his whole being. He wanted to be with her, he wanted to heal whatever grief or guilt that resided in her. He wanted to help her feel. He wanted to help her forget and find a reason to want to go on instead of just breathe.
     She touched his face and looked at him with such pain and desire he couldn’t hold back and buried his cock inside her tight, hot, pussy and pushed in to the hilt. A cry broke from her throat and he noticed tears running down her cheeks as they moved together he brushed his lips to hers.
     Her movements were rushed and desperate as she dug her fingertips into his back. He suckled at her breast and she sobbed but he couldn’t tell whether she was in ecstasy or in grief. He released her breast and he placed a brutal kiss to her mouth and she seemed to offer everything but her heart up to him.
     Normally that didn’t bother him. It usually suited him. As he stroked out and pushed inside of her he found he wanted more of her. He wanted to brand her the way she had branded him with his name, Luke.
     He lifted her thigh over his hip and moved inside of her more possessively. Her eyes burned and flickered with erotic desire.
     “That’s right,” she whispered hoarsely, “make me come, make me forget.”
     Her words drove him mad. She crushed her mouth to his and suddenly he was surrounded by visions of a time gone by. He was young and a teenager girl dressed in a diaphanous silver dress was staring at him with such hate it chilled him to the bone. He went soft just as Amelia cried out his name. But it wasn’t in release. It was in terror. In worry. In concern.
     He opened his eyes and found himself staring down at her. Her hands were at his face. He saw genuine fear there. He rolled off of her and redressed himself. He felt like a fool. He’d fucked plenty of women and never had a vision and gone soft in the middle sex. That was often his only respite in this world.
     She dressed and walked over to him and looked down at him. “You went somewhere.”
     “I’m fine.”
     She stooped down and pulled her hair back into a ponytail.
     “You should leave your hair down. It shows just how pretty you are.”
     “Times like these I’m not too concerned with how pretty I am.”
     There was an awkward silence before he said, “Tell me you at least got off a little bit.”
     She laughed, “Would it crush you terribly if I hadn’t?”
     “It wasn’t for lack of wanting it to happen.”
     “Chill. I had the big O,” her features softened, “it was just nice having you inside of me. Made me forget how lonely I’d been since Ian died.”
     He reached out and tugged her into his embrace. It was easy to forget his troubles with her.
     “He was a lucky guy to have someone love him as much as you loved him.”
     “Where’d you go that made you freeze up the way that you did? Something tells me the bedroom is your forte. Not your Achilles heel.”
     He laughed. “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so transparent.”
     “Well, you were definitely enjoying yourself.”
     “Weren’t you?”
     “The only other person I’d ever been with was Ian.”
     “And I take it he was fantastic.”
     “Not really, but our love was like this enduring, slow kind of love. He wasn’t exactly a passionate kind of guy. Except for when it came to saving the world and man he believed.”
     “Is that why you believe?”
     “It keeps him alive in a way, right? He was the only one who ever gave a damn about me. Nothing more passionate than dying for me right?”
     He didn’t say anything. Anyone could die for you. It was who had your back while you were breathing that showed what kind of character you had.
     “How was your marriage?”
     “He protected me. I believed in him. He never failed me. I miss him. It’s like someone’s ripped a giant hole in my soul.”
     “That’s hard to get over.”
     “I’ve been so busy trying to save the world it’s been easy to keep him alive. But after today I wonder if I’m even doing the right thing.”
     A vision opened up before him. It was of him gazing down into her face. Of her in a veil and gown. They stood before a Court of soldiers making an aisle with their swords. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes.
     “You did it again.”
     “I did what?”
     “You went a million miles away.”
     “I stayed right here with you,” he said. “Now c’mon, let’s get some sleep. We’ll need to be on the move in the morning.”
     She snuggled against him and he cradled her close. Leaning his head back he allowed himself to close his eyes. Amelia was grieving, but being with her was triggering everything about himself he hated dealing with. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen the redhead in his visions. But it was the first time he’d felt the fear of a child looking at a monster. A flaming haired green eyed demon. And he wondered as he drifted off to sleep if she wasn’t just a demon, but one of the keys to his past as well.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Inspiration and Benevolance

There is a way of viewing your hero and executing your imagination to make it match what's going on in that feverish brain of yours. Is it normal to sit for hours on end conjuring up fictional people and places all so you can get a story out of you. I don't know if it's normal but I know I've had several actors I've used as models, of course there's Daniel Craig which you've all heard me gone on endlessly about now. But in the beginning there were others. Such as this guy:He's Maurice Benard and he's special for a host of a myriad of reasons. He has that intensity that I like in an actor but he has always been very open about his battle with Bipolar Disorder. And his openness allowed me to seek help when I might not have had a clue about what was going on with me otherwise. It also allowed me to research the medicine's I've been placed on. Then  there's others like George Clooney and Ben Aflleck. But this guy has been pretty prominent too  he to has that intensity that I like so much for my characters. Their ability as actors fuel my imagination and well, let's be honest Daniel Craig, Maurice Benard, and Real Andrews are all pretty easy on the eyes to lol ;).

I wish there was a way to reach to them and thank them for everything that they've done, or rather what their work has done for me and my career over the years. They helped me survive some very rough waters while growing up and still even as an adult. I am fortunate also to have found as a home for two of my books. They've given me my big break and I would recommend them to anyone looking for a home for their work. As I would recommend any of the above three guys as story fodder. Good luck out there and when I have more of REBEL I'll share it with you.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Odds & Ends

The holiday season is upon us and soon there will be Christmas trees, decorations, candy, turkeys, ham, and of course the traffic around Wal-Mart and the Malls that really let us know that they are.

I love the holidays. But sometimes it is real work bringing that Christmas cheer. And last year Christmas with my best friend out and out sucked. And I would give anything to change it for her and her family. Last holiday season Missy's dad went into the hospital for a transplant. They cut on him eight times, all the while telling her family oh everything is going to be okay. They lied. Through their arrogance and negligence they cost Missy whatever good time she had with her dad short and the day before Christmas Eve he died.

I'll save you the more gruesome details but suffice it to say they treated Missy and her family horribly and this year will be the first real year without him at the holidays. My friend is already hurting and if you bring up the doctors by name she is liable to take you down if you defend them, which I wouldn't dream of doing. I find myself missing him too and last night when my parents and I visited the funeral home for a church member I found it uncomfortable and upsetting as it made me think about Missy's dad.

But at dinner last night with my mom and dad (my stepdad who has raised me since I was 3)I found myself enjoying their company. I was getting ready to compliment them. Last night their calmer, softer alter egos were on display. Just now I got my head bitten off on the phone. They run hot and cold. And I try to remember that they love me even though they aren't the stablest of people, and know if I'm missing my best friend's dad the way that I am that I'm grateful not to be working through the tangle of emotions that come with losing parents that run hot and cold on you.

I love them though, very much, and am grateful for the year that I've had which in no small part was inspired by Missy's dad condition at the end of last year. May she and her sisters and mother find the peace they so desperately  need, and may I have the sanity to deal with my family.


Friday, November 18, 2011


My current WIP is  something that I feel like is a lot of fun. I feel my characters like I did with GLADIATOR only this tale feels a little bit grittier. Not that GLADIATOR wasn't, it's just that REBEL isn't coming out in the white hot passionate way that GLADIATOR did. Now, I've never written a series or a trilogy but this is definitely what I want to be doing at the moment.

I've been told in the past you should walk away from a project for awhile sometimes to get to the heart of it. Maybe I'll post a snippet of it and let you me what you think.

I'll definitely keep trudging along because even though it's not pouring out of me in that relentless gotta get it down I think I might explode of I don't kind of way I know it's a good story and if I can just get the laziness out of me I should be find.

Going to put on a pot of coffee now. Here's a snippet of Rebel. Think action. Think grit. Think Rebellion. Think things aren't always as black and white as they should be. :)

Chapter One
     The Great Healing had happened. At least it was rumored to have happened. There was definitely the evidence for it. Blue skies. Green grass. Beautiful trees and the sounds of birds chirping. But he was still without a past. With only his name to hang his hat on.   
     There were a lot of people taking sides. And there were a lot of sides to pick from. The Rebellion had strong pockets of support along the eastern coast and the Midwest. But somewhere along the Texas New Mexico border the exiled Queen had her sympathizers. Blu was the only thing he could remember about himself. His eyes weren’t blue though, they were an emerald green and his hair was coal black. But even within the Rebellion there was a fracture. On the east coast there was a strong movement behind making the much talked about Healer and her protector, a former gladiator, the new rulers. The further west you went the more disorganized the movement got. The more violent the Queen’s sympathizers became and the more dangerous it was to be a loner like himself.
     And since Blu was the first word he could remember about his past whenever someone asked him what his name was that’s what he told them. When they asked him about his last name he would always say some things are just left alone. And he had a troubled way about him that women seemed to like to try and heal. And often he let them try well into the night.
     He wasn’t young, but he wasn’t old either. As desperately as he wondered about the nightmares and what some would call visions. The nightmares he could handle. The visions. The visions were another problem altogether and they had left him vulnerable to attack on more than one occasion. Now was no different.
     In the desert it rarely rained before the Great Healing. But now it rained a lot. And now he lay flat on his back paralyzed and surrounded by water. Only he was a child and an older girl, a teenager, was holding his head under it. And he knew it was because of something he’d said. She yanked his head up.
     “Worthless, useless, powerless. You will not dethrone me in Daddy’s eyes.”
     His mouth was open wide and his heart pounded each time the water surrounded him. He gasped for breath each time he came up for air. Yet as he was he couldn’t move.
     The present and the past overlapped the dam he had heard break not that long ago was sending a flood of water towards him. He may not be useless or worthless, but the vision had him paralyzed to do anything but surrender to the vision.
     He could hear footsteps but couldn’t differentiate if they were from the vision or from the present day. He felt a light touch to his chest.
     “Yeah, he’s breathing,” a woman’s voice said. “Help me get him up.” Suddenly the vision began to break and he saw a striking young woman with long black hair pulled back from her face. Her cheekbones were high and her eyes were light brown and she wore the uniform a Healer supporting Rebel. “Don’t worry babe, we’re going to get you out of here.” She came in clearer and he could see a small unit of men approaching with a raft. “We don’t have a lot of time. Let’s get him loaded up.” She turned back to him. “What’s your name?”
     He tried to find his voice but he couldn’t find his voice.
     “That’s okay, save your strength. Hurry up! The water’s headed this way and I think I saw a group of Queen Sympathizers about five miles back. We can’t risk getting caught. Especially this far out from Headquarters and with an injured man.”
     “Just leave him here. He’s obviously dead weight.”
     The young female rebel pulled out a nine millimeter semi-automatic pistol and said, “Test my authority again and I’ll shoot you and leave you for dead.” She looked at him again, her harsh gaze softening. “Load him up. All of us needed a helping hand at one time or another. Now hurry.”
     The three other rebels lifted him up and laid him in the inflated raft. The young woman climbed in after him and the other rebels took their places just in time as the water flooded the desert area whisking them to God only knew where.
     The young woman was sharp and barking commands as they raced along the waves. She took his hand and glanced tenderly at him. She wasn’t worried for herself with that look. She was worried about her men—and him.
     The water was rough as it sent them spiraling and twisting through lush greenery and new saplings. His breath finally started to return to him and he could move. He felt the sweat coming from her hand and felt just how hard she was squeezing his hand. He didn’t even know her name and she had risked hers and her units lives to get him out of there. She was scared, he could feel it in her touch. But her jaw was set and she had task to accomplish. That wasn’t fearlessness. That was courage. And that was admirable.
     He sat up and she looked at him for a few seconds when the same guard who had been ready to abandon him shouted and pointed ahead, “Amelia!”
     They looked and saw a huge stone wall surrounded by high rocks with a vicious whirlpool forming. She looked in the raft there was a long rope.
     “Alright, one of us is going to tie this around our waist and make a swim for the shoreline. Then the rest of us calmly, but one by one are going to hang onto the line while the others pull him or me in.”
     “Who’s making the swim for it?” The rebel asked.
     “I will,” Amelia said.
     “You’re crazy, you’re not strong enough to pull us in.”
     “Then I’ll do it,” Blu said.
     “Yeah right. For all we know you’re a Queen Sympathizer,” the rebel sneered.
     The young woman shouted, “Enough! What’s your name?”
     “Okay then. Tie the rope around you--,”
     She wasn’t looking him in the face as she knotted the rope around his waist. He tilted her face up and cradled it, “Hey, it’s okay to be scared.”
     “What is this? The dating game?”
     “Fuck off Larry,” she snarled as they headed toward the whirlpool. “This is it. If you don’t make it, none of us will.”
     “I got this,” he said with a confident smile on his face.
     He jumped into the racing water and swam hard. The water swirled around him and the coolness of it on his hot skin threatened to take his breath away. The rocky shore seemed miles away and he could see the raft being tossed about as if on the raging seas. As he made it to shore and turned around he could see an argument erupting between the rebel giving her so much flack and the young woman.
     Three of the rebels jumped out and crawled along the length of the rope as he pulled them ashore as the raft was whisked away down the rapids formed by the broken dam. And he realized the young woman was still on the raft.
     “What the hell were you selfish bastards thinking?!” he shouted.
     “She said she could make a swim for it,” Larry gasped as he stretched against the rocks.
     He glowered at the rebel and said, “I’ll deal with you in a minute.” He gathered the rope in his hands and headed back into cool almost, icy waters and prayed both he and the young rebel didn’t both die in the process.
     He swam hard toward her and as he neared the raft the raft neared the whirlpool. He shouted to her and threw the rope. “Amelia, grab on!”
     The look of grief and anger and terror in her eyes struck him hard in the chest and he connected with her in such a visceral way his adrenaline surged through his body. He swam harder than he ever had and sidled up next to the raft.
     “Put your arms around my neck.”
     She leaned over the edge of the raft and into the water and held on to him tightly just as the raft was pulled into the whirlpool. He began to kick hard, his adrenaline still pumping.
     Amelia sprang into action throwing the rope over the top of the wall. She looked him in the eye and said, “Lift me up and I’ll pull you up!”
     She didn’t look big enough or strong enough. But he knew they had little time to argue. He should be climbing up and pulling her up. But she wasn’t budging.
     “Now!” she shouted. He lifted her up and she scrambled to the top. She dropped out of sight and shouted, “Come on!”
     He crawled up the wall and dropped down to the soft ground on the other side. She fell to her knees heaving and gasping for breath. She looked at him and said, “My men…”
     “If they have half a brain they will find a way over the wall,” he said coldly.
     “I know they can be a real pain in the ass but--,”
     “But nothing. You risked your life for all of ours. That commands a certain amount of respect.”
     She continued to gasp and she started to cry. At first it was so softly he almost missed it. He wanted to ring all of their necks. One by one he wanted to rip them all a new one. He took her in his arms and tried to comfort her.
     At first she resisted him. He held her closer.
     “Leaders aren’t allowed to show their weakness. Especially female rebels. When they do they’re punished for it.”
     “Well, you saved my life Amelia, you ever need help you can depend on me to have your back.”
     She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around him. She didn’t saw anything, not at first. “And I’ll have yours.”
     He said nothing, he just rocked her back and forth until night began to fall. The men found their way around and it made for a long, tense, quiet walk back to headquarters.

Thursday, November 17, 2011


I have it on good authority that I missed one helluva party and good time in Montreal with my fellow Musers. Well I don't want that to happen this year. So I'm going to start a campaign on this blog because should I go next year I'm going to need a date to the dinner.

So who should I take? Well if I come it will be because the gods smiled upon me and helped me to manage my finances. Living on disability and trying to breakthrough with my books isn't always the easiest path but it is the one I've chosen.

I don't exactly live in a literary hotbed, but people around here do love to read. But it's usually women who love to read my books. But if I could take anyone? I think the choices are endless if I were fantasizing. There's Bradley Cooper, George Clooney, Ryan Reynolds, Ben Affleck, Matt Damon, Russell Crowe. All of them would be nice LOL, as if any of them would have the time of day for a nobody like me. Especially since most of them are involved with to die for gorgeous women.

And well, they haven't got the first clue I even exist ;) LOL. But if I were going to actively campaign for an escort to the MUSE GALA AWARDS next year in Montreal I would invite both this man and his wife. If only because it is EXTREMELY TACKY to hit on a married man. So I'm creating a page here where I will explain the advantages of escorting a lowly writer to her publishing house's award ceremony! There will be videos, both music and comical expressing how I feel. I will also make them available on YOUTUBE. So
Daniel Craig, prepare to be pitched.

And to be clear people this is the man I'm talking about.

Have fun folks!

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

The Gladiator Chronicles

Still feeling my way about on this a bit on this second story. The rebel is the girl and I think it''s going to be told from her point of view. But then I'm still hung up on my Gladiator, Tristan Shane, aka Daniel Craig and the cover of EW with him looking all kinds of dirty hot make it difficult to make me forget him. But I'm writing in a way that it would make all kinds of wrong to think of him as the hero.

So who should my hero be?

I think it has to be Russell, he's my type, the brooding, emotional, Alpha who can take command. I've yet to see Ryan brood. Sorry ladies have to kick Ryan to the curb and call Russell to the major league it's the only way I can fantasize enough to get into character.

Or maybe I place the Chronicles on the back burner and write a dark thriller. Hmmm we'll see, the cover of EW really has thrown me into a tailspin. Maybe book two of the Lost Legacies is in order.

Although if I write book 2 the female lead from the first book may die at the beginning, or not. Who knows. There's also No Ordinary Love.

It's official I'm stalling and the cover of EW with Daniel Craig and the Girl With the Dragon Tattoo have me distracted. Maybe a gritty noir-ish erotica is in order. Oh well, we shall see we shall see.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011


Well, it appears as if GLADIATOR has come to an end but that a series has been born, the second book is rattling around in my brain. It is called REBEL.

REBEL is the story of Ian Patterson, a man with no memory of his past who takes up arms in the wake of the Earth's great healing. Drawn to a tough as nail rebel leader Layla they connect when they survive an encounter to the exiled queen's elite guard.

As passion ignites and erotic nights fuel their turbulent battles for control of the new country that was the United States of America west his memory slowly returns and he begins to fall for the lovely but tough Layla. But when Layla is taken prisoner by the queen he is driven to remember his past. Because if he can't Layla may pay with her life.

So who should Ian be this guy: Actually I think it should be. I was thinking James McAvoy but Ryan is just so delicious in this picture and dirty hot in a way that he fits the bill quite nicely.

Finding the Alpha in Ryan as opposed to the funny pretty guy was difficult and if I knew him I might already know this. But I don't and am forced to rely on movies promo pics and photo shoots for images. This picture allows me to project my vision for my character of Ian.

So now that things are in order I am going to settle in for a writing session.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Passing 35K w/My Gladiator

At just under 35K I have pent a lot of time with Tristan and I of course of an idea of how it will all end but the thought of coming up with 15,000 more words is a pretty daunting task. And then doing this in the face of promotion, a book signing and just cobbling together 1600 words a day makes it seem like I will never get there.
What gets me through during times such as these?

Well, there is the obligatory NaNoWriMo silliness, the peptalks, the comraderie that comes along with any November. Whether it's your RL friends, your online family or that pet of yours which keeps you warm at night that also seems to help.

Then there's the jaunts outside of the house which seem to help. The ones with your famly that make you especially grateful for your book all over again and the time alone you desperately need to make that manuscript of yours sing to life. I'm about 60 pages away from the end. (woot!)

But then there are those pipe dreams, the ones you normally keep to yourself for fear of people laughing dead in your face. Like the one where you say I'd love t meet the person whose work inspired me through the harder parts of this tale. As Cher from Clueless would say.

Well I've added two more videos to my blog from mine and Pamela Turner's book signing. She recorded and edited so the magic really is all her. So a big thanks to her. They're located at the very bottom of the blog so scroll down. You'll finally see what I look and sound like. LOL. I'm including a picture of Tristan. Perhaps tomorrow I'll include another excerpt of GLADIATOR. Happy viewing!

I thought I might include a picture of the yummy chocolate ganache cake from the book signing too. Grab a fork and eat up!

Thursday, November 10, 2011

From 25K to 35K

The sprint has slowed considerably and the fact I am a bit adrift at this point should really come as no surprise. Whenever I make it to this point I feel crispy and burnt and like I have no gas left. Some suggest padding my book with song lyrics and the like while that is a tried and true NaNo tip and trick I find that it doesn't really work for me.

I am at the 30K mark. Things usually get better for me around the 35K mark and since I'm at the 30,730 mark exactly one could say my agony is to be short lived. I should hope so. But it never really gets any easier at this point. I just have to trudge through it and hope 35K will bring relief.

Right now I have taken care of a bit of promo for No Ordinary Love and put on a pot of coffee. I also have a book signing later on tonight which is exciting. The really cool part is that I'm doing it in conjunction with my friend Pamela Turner who also has a book out, Deathsword. Checkout both of these stories and maybe when I get passed the concrete I'll share a little bit more of GLADIATOR. :)

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Appearing This Thursday!

Appearing this Thursday at Shepherdsville's Ridgway Memorial Library are local authors Pamela Turner and Amy McCorkle/Kate Lynd.

Pamela Turner is the author of Death Sword, a gripping Urban Fantasy told from the male perspective. 

Amy McCorkle, author of Big Blue Nation, and writing under the pen name of Kate Lynd is celebrating the release of her short Sci-Fi Erotica piece, No Ordinary Love. 

There will be refreshments, a Q&A and readings from their works. It is from 5PM -8PM and there will be giveaways and goodie bags.

Monday, November 7, 2011

Going For It-Excerpt Contains Graphic Language and Sexual Situations

When you're imaging a Maximus style gladiator that looks like Daniel Craig set in a world gone a lot Mad Max you can be driven to distraction. I mean, who wouldn't be? Both Russell Crowe and Daniel have that gravitas which lends itself for you to believe they would have been bad asses back in the day. And when I'm reading there has to be a bad ass. A tortured bad ass. One that is seeking salvation or redemption. I love those kinds of heroes and heroines. 

I grew up in a rocky household and life so the idea of being taken away from that is appealing too. To be protected when it seems like the gods are always conspiring to bring you down. And for it to be a man that looks like Russell or Daniel? Even better. 

So for Nano when the idea hit it was as Oliver Reed said, rising up like a storm. So here you go, Chapter Two of GLADIATOR-Warning Contains graphic language and sexual situations.

Chapter Two
     He watched her sleep but could not reconcile his senses to what had happened. His mind told him what he’d seen was impossible. Glowing hands, her eyes burning like fire, her hair billowing out as if blown by a fierce breeze and her body hovering in mid-air. Impossible his mind told him. Yet as she slept he knew what he’d seen.
     The last ten years hadn’t been good for him. Frankly they hadn’t been good for anyone. And as the night stretched on he found himself sleepless as he normally was after a match in the Metal Coliseum. He had been bathed or cleansed of the blood of his opponent that covered him. Killing wasn’t something that had come naturally. The only way it might feel right was if he were given the opportunity to murder the men responsible for the destruction of his family.
     He walked over to where he’d lain Alexandra and covered her with a blanket. He touched her face, she seemed so vulnerable laying there, it took him out of his ingrained death wish for a moment. The sound of footsteps and metal clanging against metal brought him to his feet. It was Veronica again.
     “I see you’ve met her. Tell me,” she said walking up to him, “have you gained her trust?” She ran her finger up his chest and to his chin.
     “I don’t know. You’d have to ask her.”
     “She seems to be sleeping well enough. Did you seduce her?” Veronica asked stiffly.
     “I’m a gladiator. I don’t have to seduce anyone.”
     “Oh you don’t?” Veronica said, her lip curling upwards. “Then however did you manage to bed me?”
     “My queen you were the easiest of all.”
     She went to strike him, but he caught her by the wrist and grabbed her by the throat. “Veronica we know each other well enough to know this has nothing to do with love don’t we.”
     She groaned. “If only you weren’t so below my station. We would could rule the world.”
     He threw her to the bed and said, “You and your kind disgust me.”
     “Darling, lust and power have nothing to do with love and everything to do with the spoils of war. No stop pouting and come join me.”
     “Tell me who ordered my wife’s death and my children’s enslavement.”
     Veronica stuck out her bottom lip. “Are we really going to play that game tonight? I was hoping after a kill you would be amped up for me.”
     “Go fuck yourself tonight Veronica. I’m sure there are plenty of other gladiators who would love the opportunity to sleep with you.”
     Veronica’s eyes went dark green and she sat straight up. “You will not speak to me in that tone.”
     “I will speak to you any way I like. You and your father may have enslaved me for your enjoyment but I will not dance like the mindless monkey you think I am.”
     “Is this about the traitor I put in your cell?”
     “No. This is about my life and how your family ended it.”
     Veronica slid up against him. “Oh sweetie, you have no idea how bad your life could really be.”
     He stiffened and glared at her.
     “Just ask her.”
     The door to his cell opened and two guards came in went to grab Alexandra. She began to chant and weep and her eyes glowed a defiant amber. Then men froze.
     “She’s harmless. Bag her head and put her in the Inquisition Room.”
     He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. His every instinct told him if he let her go to that room she wouldn’t survive. The chanting got louder and Veronica went white and she began to gasp for air.
     Tristan charged the guards and grabbed Alexandra and, ripping the bag off her head. Her eyes were burning bright. He looked at Veronica. “Release her Veronica.” The color came back to Veronica’s face while he held the guards back with his sword.
“Release her!”
     Veronica laughed as the light dimmed in the Healer’s eyes and she went limp in his arms. He carried her back to the corner and covered her with a blanket.
     “Funny Tristan, I didn’t think you had in you.” Veronica said.
     “You didn’t think I had what?”
     “The ability to care anymore. For what it’s worth she’s to fight Lucilla tomorrow in the ring. And as you can see, she’s no gladiator.”
     Veronica came up to him. “I thought you of all the gladiators might spare me the trouble of martyring her but it seems you have a fatal flaw. You care about the weak.”
     “Let me be her second.”
     Veronica squealed in laughter. “Seriously? Two women die instead one. You’re more twisted than I thought.”
     “What happens if I die?”
     Veronica rose an eyebrow. “We’ll deal with that complication if it happens. But you’re the best of the best so I doubt that’s something I’ll have to worry about right now. Come with me guards. Have fun with her. Knowing you’re suffering she may martyr herself.” She kissed him. When he didn’t respond she sighed. “Don’t feel too guilty. You are serving a higher purpose in helping me.” It was everything in him to keep from vomiting.
“Goodnight little sister.”
     Alexandra’s eyes popped open and the amber color of hers burned bright. She said nothing but the defiance came through loud and clear. Veronica shivered and motioned for the guards to follow her.
     Tristan picked her up and laid her gently to the bed. “Rest up. You’re going to need it.”
     He went to lie down on the floor when he felt the gentle touch of her hand around his wrist. “Lay with me.”
     Her voice was so soft he almost missed it.
     “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said gazing at her tenderly.
     “If I’m going to die, I’d at least like to know the touch of the person willing to face death with me tomorrow.”
     “I’m covered with blood.”
     Her eyes were amber and filled with trepidation. “I’m afraid. I’ve lived my whole life that way. I feel the pain of everyone my family has ever betrayed. I hate my family. They want me to die. The only one who ever protected me was my mother. But when father murdered her I had no one. Not even Veronica. I know you don’t love me, and honestly, after what you endured I don’t see how you would love ever again--,”
     “Stop. I need for you to stop this I’m afraid bullshit if you want to have a chance to beat Lucilla.” He sat down on the bed next to her. “I don’t know what to make of you. Everything you are makes no logical sense to me. I’m not the best of the best because I’m the strongest or the fastest or even the most skilled. I’m the best of the best because I fight as if I don’t care whether I live or die.”
     “Don’t you?”
     “No. But now there’s you. And I don’t know what to make of anything.”
     “Why did you offer to be my second?”
     “Because the only thing I am sure of is I don’t want to see you die the way my family did.”
     “My sister will find a way to stack the odds against me. She always does.”
     “Veronica is about as soulless as they come.”
     Alexandra sat up and rested her hand to his chest and closed her eyes. Her hand began to glow her breathing became labored. His chest began to light up and she began to weep uncontrollably as she had when she’d crawled away from him. She opened her eyes and said, “She doesn’t blame you. None of them blame you.” Her weeping became gut wrenching sobs. “Oh God no.” Her shoulders shook and she trembled against him. “I promise. I promise to protect them all.”
     She was staring straight into his soul and not flinching. How much more of this could she take and not break? He gently pulled her hand away from his body and embraced her. “I have to serve my purpose…”
     “Veronica’s purpose is bullshit.”
     “I serve only the spirits. I have never served anyone or anything else.”
     “Then whose purpose were you filling?”
     “Your wife’s wish to absorb your pain as my own so that you can stop blaming yourself for her death.”
     “I’m afraid that’s impossible. I don’t feel anything anymore.”
     She looked him square in the eye and said, “That’s a lie. All those tears, those were yours. Your rage and grief it may be overwhelming to someone like me, but I’ve yet to find a soul I couldn’t mend.”
     “That’s arrogance. Sweet. But arrogant.”
     “Healing people, in mind, in body it’s who I am. It’s what I do.”
     “You’ve never failed, ever.”
     Her own pain seemed to dim her eyes. “Only once,” she said softly.
     “Who was it?”
     “My mother. But her grief, her pain was like yours. I tried so hard. It was how my father discovered my ‘gift’. I might have succeeded too if Veronica had helped me keep my mother safe. But we don’t share the same mother. And she never took to me. Just as my mother opened her eyes my father drove a dagger straight through her heart. I nearly died. I’ve been a prisoner ever since.”
     “How old were you?”
     “How old are you now?”
     “Twenty-one. Well, twenty-one tomorrow.”
     “Happy Birthday.” She laughed through thru her tears. He wiped them away. “You’re too young to know about death and pain. You should be in college getting drunk and partying and getting into trouble.”
     “I’ll never be that girl. Veronica might have been. But not me. She’s the one who men love. She’s the one women in the mob want to look like. I was always a homebody. At mom’s feet. Helping her with something or another. I would be the girl everyone settled for after the beauty queen was taken.”
     “Don’t kid yourself, any man would be lucky to have you. Those eyes, that hair, that face your beautiful in your own right.”
     “Thanks.” For a second she just looked at him and said, “I hope if I live through this battle tomorrow I find someone to love me half as much as you loved your wife and children.”
     She was so young in that moment. So innocent even in the face of all the evil she had witnessed and been subjected to. And in the face of insurmountable odds she hoped she would live to find love. That was heady stuff to a jaded person such as himself.
     He touched her forehead and caressed her face down to her chin. “You remind me so much of her.”
     Alex remained still. Her eyes soft and yielding. He brushed her hair over her shoulder and ran his thumb over her lips and she took a sharp breath. He smiled tenderly at her.
     “I haven’t ever had a woman like you in here.”
     “What do you mean?”
     “An honest one. A kind one. A selfless one. And all you really want to be is loved. I’m surprised they haven’t stamped it of you.” He cradled her cheek and she leaned into his touch. “You deserve your first time to be something special with the man you love.”
     She pressed her lips to his palm and ran her tongue against his skin. He groaned.
     “I may die tomorrow. I want to be with the man willing to be my second and to know his touch. I may not be Veronica when it comes to seduction, but I know I was meant to heal you before I pass from this world to the next. I know you don’t love me, but I know you’ll take care of me.”
     “You are nothing like your sister,” he whispered to her ear, “and I am not going to let you die tomorrow. You are going to die happy and old with a family to speak of.”
     He was inches from her mouth. Struggling with himself. He never concerned himself with a woman’s virtue before, not even the first time with Hope. They had been young and headstrong and ready to take on the world. And hopelessly in love. This was different. She was no groupie. And she was right, they weren’t in love.
     “Tomorrow we go into battle together. Lucilla is one of the best female gladiators. My father favors her like Veronica favors you. They want me to die. I don’t want to die but I’m not afraid of it. The only thing I fear is not fulfilling the one thing I was sent here to do.”
     He held her face with his hand and fought his conscience no longer and kissed her. Parting her lips he slid his tongue into her mouth and tasted her. His head began to spin and ran his hand down her side and slid his hand beneath her and up her back. She broke off the kiss with a cry of pain and he stopped. He pulled her shirt off and rolled her to her stomach and found scars and healing wounds from a bullwhip. “Jesus…” he exhaled. “What have you endured all of these years?”
     “Fury, jealousy, punishment. Please don’t stop.”
     “I’ll kill them,” he said hoarsely. “How can anyone do this to a child, let alone their own daughter?”
     “I stopped asking that a long time ago.”
     He tossed the shirt to the ground and began to kiss her scars. And she began to weep. It tore at his heart to think she’d suffered this kind of treatment at the hands of her own family. She pressed close to him and it set his skin on fire. He turned her body to face him and kissed again, holding her tight and when he deepened the kiss she sighed into him he only craved her touch more. Her hands trailed up and down his back. He pulled off his loincloth and removed her skirt. With nothing between them he could feel their hearts pounding together. Being with her was intoxicating. He wanted her, needed her, and nothing else would do. He dropped hot trailing kisses at her neck and brought her leg over his hip, and suckled at her breast. She threw her head back and gasped in pleasure.
     Her fingers buried themselves into his hair and her fingernails dug into his back. Her touch was unlike being with any other woman before. There was something in her complete and utter trust and need that spoke to a place in a long shut down part of him. It whispered to his hardened heart and closed off soul and asked him to come to her. He rotated his hips and pressed against her clitoris. She cried out and he released her breast and slid his cock inside of her. Instead of stiffening and crying she was gazing up into his eyes and her amber ones were glowing like burning coals on a fire.
     He kissed as her pussy clung tight around his thick cock and urged him deeper inside of her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and suddenly her whole body was bright and she sucked his tongue inside her mouth and she arched her body up and he thrust harder and harder until he thought he might hurt her. But as he filled her with long, hot, firm strokes she began to pant and say his name her eyes threatened to roll back but when he touched her face he saw his own hands start to glow and when she looked into his soul, her eyes burning out of control with desire for him he was overcome by the need for his release and thrust one last time and cried out his own guttural orgasm. She began to kiss him as they collapsed to the bed. He was still rock hard for her and as she rolled him to his back she braced her hands to his shoulders and rode him, her breast perfectly positioned so that when he began to caress and stroke them she bucked wildly tossing her head back his name falling from her lips. His world went white as he responded and came without warning. When she fell to him he squeezed her ass and kissed her tenderly. She rolled from him and laid her head to his chest and placed her hand at his stomach.
     He didn’t know what was going to happen when they were taken into the ring. But one thing was for certain, come what may, he was going to do his best to make sure they both came out alive.