Blog Archives

Intrigue in the Elf world #MFRWHooks

elfchild400x600THE ELF CHILD
Clan Elves of the Bitterroot (Book II)

The moment elf warrior Astan Hawk agrees to protect the young elf queen trouble dogs his heels. Jelani’s human upbringing clashes with clan tradition, spurring dangerous intrigues within the Circle of Elders. Soon even the motives of his father Daven come into question. With nowhere else to turn, Astan asks Jelani’s human friends for help. Hiding in shadows, an outcast elf plots revenge by seeking the help of powerful elf mages who live deep within the forest. Can Astan fulfill his promise to keep both Jelani and his child safe when the whole world seems to have turned against them?

Paperback at Amazon • Paperback at Barnes & Noble • Paperback at Lulu • Hardback at Barnes & Noble • Hardback at Lulu • eBook at Amazon Kindle • eBook at Apple • eBook at Barnes & Noble • eBook at Kobo • eBook at Smashwords

EXCERPT:

This was Grigor’s plan, no one else’s. He’d thought of it all on his own, after the clan had mfrw-book-hooks400discarded him, left him alone here in the pitiless rocks and cold winds and harsh rain. He deserved the right to carry it out.

“If the elders are involved in their politicking and complaining, then now is the time to strike,” Grigor said, looking Vez straight in the eye. “We should move in and take the child now.”

“All the same, if guards are posted, while they may let us in, they will not let you pass,” Vez insisted.

“We need a distraction. Something to send anyone who’s not already involved in this discussion about the false queen out of our way,” Grigor said.

Terzon’s face lit up, an idea practically bursting from his lips. “A groundquake. That would frighten them, show them we are a force to be reckoned with!” He grinned, and Grigor knew that capability existed within his childhood friend. But so did the rest of the clan.

“They would know you had caused it, Terzon. Inherent in this plan is the ability for you and the others to continue to blend into the clan, to appear innocent, until the queen is deposed once and all. The same goes for the rest of you. Your elven powers are obvious to those who know you well.”

Silence settled around them like a heavy smoke. Grigor hadn’t thought through the details, not while trying to coordinate so many of them, and now facing the open hostility in the eyes of Vez, he struggled to be clever.

“Then we should use human powers,” Vez said.

“Humans have no powers!” Hidal cried.

“Exactly. What can we do that will call to the heart of every elf in the forest, that we can blame on humans?”

“Fire,” Fontine whispered.

“Yes,” Grigor said. “Yes, Fontine, that’s just what we need.”

Grigor knew Fontine could start a fire anywhere, just by wishing it into existence. But careless humans had destroyed hundreds of acres of elven territory over the years. The possibility was one the clan feared more than almost anything.

Yadin nodded. “Beckley said a camp of human males had been on the eastern face of the mountain for the last week, hunting for animals.”

“This was known to the clan?” Grigor asked.

“Yes,” Vez said. “I heard them talking. Here’s your chance to be a hero, my friend. And we can hold the humans accountable for all of it. Of course, this would be more believable if you showed the clan you’d put up a fight to protect them.” He eyed Grigor. “I think a blacked eye and a bloody nose ought to do it.”

https://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=297341

Have you heard of the Montana Vortex?

reno 057I knew when I got the idea for THE ELF GUARDIAN that It would be set in the Bitterroot Mountains, like the others–but I wanted a unique twist. It came when I read about the Montana Vortex.

https://nbcmontana.com/news/montana-moment/montana-vortex-and-house-of-mystery-may-redefine-laws-of-physics

When paranormal investigator Chiara de Luna needs a boost to her sagging career, she makes a trip to northwestern Montana for new material. Little does she know that the real story she’ll find is much more outlandish than weirdly tilted trees and brooms standing up on their own.

cvr200x300elfguardian2Clan Elves of the Bitterroot (Book IV): The strong Earth energies that support the Clan Elves of the Bitterroot have gone awry for unknown reasons, and the powerful forces at work have not gone unnoticed by the outside world. When a paranormal investigator looking for a story to save her career is told a fantastic tale by the juvenile and disobedient elf prince Elliun, his young albino elf bodyguard Max must try to fix the mistake. Can Max get humans, mages, and elves working together in time to save the land before the energies spin out of control? Or is this the end of the elven world in the Bitterroot Mountains? [Urban Fantasy series from Dragonfly Publishing, Inc.]

 

 

Excerpt:

The phone line went dead before she could even say ‘goodbye.”

Not that she was going to say ‘goodbye.’ Anything but.

            “Hunter, wait—”

The once-sweet name turning bitter on her tongue, the whispered words sighed through her lips, becoming sharp, cutting her.

No, that was her teeth, biting down hard enough to make her bleed.

She set the phone into the stand. Gone.

Her knees gave way and she landed, hard, in her office chair, banging her elbow on the edge of the polished black-and-chrome desk. The pain reverberated up and down her arm, but did nothing to cloak the agony raging inside her.

So close…

            The news clippings across the surface of the desk seemed to mock her now. Paranormal Investigator Visits Alcatraz. DeLuna Solves Local Murder with Psychic Clues. Ghosts Give Up Secrets to Ohio Paranormal Expert.  All her work, fifteen years of building a reputation as an investigator of the weird and unexplained—what would it mean if Hunter Nowles walked away from her?

And why was he leaving? Because that stupid exorcism had turned out to be a fake.

Okay, and the haunting of that old mansion in Pennsylvania had turned out to be a bust.

She chewed her lip. To be honest, she’d failed to either prove or debunk the last seven investigations she’d undertaken. Lucky number seven.

“The great Chiara DeLuna bites the big one,” she muttered, waiting for the rim shot that had to follow. It was a joke, right? She was a joke. The network seemed to think so. Davis had already sent a memo warning her they wouldn’t fund her program any longer if she couldn’t produce results. And now Hunter had decided she wasn’t worth his time, either.

Or maybe he was just afraid that her failures would taint his own growing stature in the paranormal investigation community. Their three years as lovers didn’t mean anything at all?

            Her gaze was snagged by one of the news photos on the desk, herself smiling and shaking the beefy hand of some small-town police chief. See, that woman was Chiara DeLuna, “spooky” media star—the woman with the chic platinum blonde hair, the expensive wardrobe, and the ominous black sedan that seemed to part crowds when she arrived on a scene.

Not the woman who looked back at her from the mirror, dreary, bookish Bonny Lang from Euclid, Ohio whose most thrilling accomplishment before she’d hit the big time was surviving a wreck with a drunk driver, as a teenager. Her mother had been killed in the crash; Bonny had sold her first paranormal article based on a post-mortem conversation they had before her mother’s spirit faded.

Paperback at Amazon • Paperback at Barnes & Noble • Paperback at Lulu • Hardback at Barnes & Noble • Hardback at Lulu • eBook at Amazon Kindle • eBook at Apple • eBook at B&N Nook • eBook at Kobo • eBook at Smashwords

PAPERBACK [EAN 978-1-936381-51-7 | ISBN 1-936381-51-6] 5.5 x 8.5 trade trim or 6×9 library trim (184 pages) | Average Price: $12.99

HARDBACK [EAN 978-1-936381-50-0 | ISBN 1-936381-50-8] 6×9 casebound (184 pages) | Average Price: $21.99

EBOOK [EAN 978-1-936381-52-4 | ISBN 1-936381-52-4] EPUB and Kindle MOBI (58,000 words) | Average Price: $3.99

Pirates, thieves and toddlers–what could go wrong? A Stolen Heart

Welcome Lyndi’s Adventurous Friend Kayelle Allen!!

When he rescues a half-human orphan, a glorified space pirate turned entrepreneur sets in motion a chain of events that threatens to topple the powerful Thieves’ Guild he once led.

ab-ash500Multiple layers of conspiracy unfold, reaching all the way to Luc’s immortal ex–the king. Behind each solved mystery looms an unseen foe, undoing the good Luc accomplishes. For the sake of this child, Luc must postpone his own freedom and master his desire for revenge or he will violate an ancient vow. Worse, he’ll put the toddler at risk.

At war with his compassion for the vulnerable child, loyalty to the king, duty to the Guild, and the bright lure of freedom he’s coveted for centuries, Luc seeks the right path. Will he choose liberty and unparalleled success, or restore the Thieves’ Guild to its former glory while overseeing the child’s training?

A hard choice for any man. For an immortal whose inner monster can destroy on sight? Impossible.

A pirate with a monstrous past can never be trusted with an innocent child. Luc must ensure the child is protected, safe, nowhere near danger. Nowhere near him. Even if this little boy has already stolen his heart…

Universal buy link https://books2read.com/u/mZK1zB

Excerpt from A Stolen Heart

After a day full of drama, all Luc wants is a shower and some wine. Not necessarily in that order. Here’s an excerpt from A Stolen Heart. (To portal is to instantly transport; as in “beam me up.”)

Inside his room, Luc shut the door, activated locks and set full privacy settings. It took three seconds to choose a bottle of Skovron Blush ’37. Light, delicate and sweet. He opened the bottle to let the wine breathe while he set about stripping. Everything but the shoes went into the recycler, although he considered ditching those too. If his house-ab-ash-bnr-pietas-issue-smdroids couldn’t whisk them clean, he’d let them get rid of the shoes. Not his problem.

Luc chose a wineglass, poured, then carried it into the bathing area. After a sip, he set the glass on a marble countertop and slid open the smoky-gray glass door of the shower.

Pietas stepped into view, fully clothed. “I do not need a shower, thank you.”

Luc snatched a towel and whipped it around himself. “My lord–” An explosive sigh burst from him. “What are you doing in my shower?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“In the shower?

With a flirty smile, the king leaned one shoulder against the wall. “You must admit, it is a good place to see you.”

A headache shoved its way forward. “Not happening, Pietas.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Again, what are you doing here?”

“I portaled into your room and heard the door open, so I came in here, and–” He lifted his chin. “I am your king. I go where I please.”

“I asked you not to portal here, my lord. My Deshai are home.”

“Which is why–” With a groan, Pietas clenched his fists. “Only you would expect me to explain myself.” He gestured toward Luc. “You explain. Where have you been? Are you showering because you’re going out, or…” He trailed a look down Luc’s length. “…going to bed?” He ended the question with a smile.

“Bed. Alone. I’ve dealt with drama for days.” Luc picked up the wine and drank it in one gulp. “I need a refill.” Without waiting for a response, he marched himself back to his room, retrieved the bottle and poured, then splashed wine into a second glass.

Drinking alcohol had no effect on Sempervians, but the act itself soothed. It offered tradition. Comfort. And when needed, a means of stalling while you decided how much truth you could afford to tell.

He offered the second glass.

His king lifted it, sniffed, sipped. “This is good. From one of your wineries?”

“Yes. One of the Skovron locations.” Luc swirled his wine, waiting until Pietas took another sip. “It’s your sister’s favorite.”

Mouth twisting, Pietas set down his glass with a click.

kl-headshot-logo200Kayelle Allen writes space opera with larger than life, unforgettable characters. Come walk in her worlds and meet them.
Join one of her Reader Groups and read her books before they’re released https://kayelleallen.com/reader-groups/
Twitter http://twitter.com/kayelleallen
Facebook http://facebook.com/kayelleallen.author
Pinterest http://pinterest.com/kayelleallen/
Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/710889.Kayelle_Allen
Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Kayelle-Allen/e/B003ZRXVN8

Opinionated women write fine romance: meet Dee S. Knight

Please welcome Lyndi’s Adventurous Friend Dee S. Knight!

Hello!

We write romances. I’m sure in your books, as in mine, I’d love to have these lessons posted in my heroine’s house somewhere.

I received this list in my inbox years ago and just found them again this afternoon. The list is credited to the Anthony Robbins organization. I don’t know if it’s really from Anthony Robbins, but I do know they’re all good lessons to apply to life.

I was exhorted to forward this to five people or I’d be in trouble. I figure by posting it here I’m doing better than that. =)

The lessons are first. My somewhat snarky responses are in brackets. Maybe these will rub off on a future heroine of mine!

ONE. Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully. [This does not apply to kicks in the butt or bubble gum in their hair. Only nice things. Keep that in mind!]

 TWO. Marry a man/woman you love to talk to. As you get older, their conversational skills will be as important as any other. [As a veteran of over 47 years of marriage, I can vouch for this one. Love isn’t about that initial flutterby in the tummy, it’s about being happy you’re waking up to the same person for the rest of your life. Think about how long you want that to be…]

THREE. Don’t believe all you hear, spend all you have or sleep all you want. [Maxine has another saying that should be tacked onto this: Don’t believe all you think!]

FOUR. When you say, “I love you,” mean it. [When Jack and I were together awhile, he commented on my facile use of the word love. I used to say, “I love that song…dress…car…class…” You get the drift. He impressed on me then that the word “love” is special and should only be used with care. Say what you mean, mean what you say.]

FIVE. When you say, “I’m sorry,” look the person in the eye. [My mom taught me this long ago, and God! Is it ever hard.]

 SIX. Be engaged at least six months before you get married. [Well, here Tony and I part ways. If Jack and I had been engaged 6 months instead of 9 days, we wouldn’t have gotten married. But generally I’d agree this is good.]

SEVEN. Believe in love at first sight. [Yes! But don’t necessarily act on it.]

EIGHT. Never laugh at anyone’s dream. People who don’t have dreams don’t have much. [I like this one a lot.]

NINE. Love deeply and passionately. You might get hurt but it’s the only way to live life completely. [I have a friend whose motto is Live! Laugh! Love! And she truly lives those words. How much better can it get?]

TEN. In disagreements, fight fairly. No name calling. [Well, yeah, okay.]

ELEVEN. Don’t judge people by their relatives. {Lord, no!! At least that’s what my relatives say, lol.]

TWELVE. Talk slowly but think quickly. [Hard for a Virginia girl to think fast.]

THIRTEEN. When someone asks you a question you don’t want to answer, smile and ask, “Why do you want to know?” [As if this would work with any woman I know. Maybe with a man…]

FOURTEEN. Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risk. [I can’t help it, this sounds like I should be cracking open that fortune cookie.]

FIFTEEN. Say “God bless you” when you hear someone sneeze. [Learned it as a child, and still do it, whether I know the person or not, and whether we’re across a restaurant or not.]

SIXTEEN. When you lose, don’t lose the lesson. [Wow, sounds like a coach. Oh, wait, Anthony Robbins is a coach. Play ball!]

SEVENTEEN. Remember the three R’s: Respect for self; Respect for others; and Responsibility for all your actions. [Love this. Wish it hung in every classroom, but I’m sure in this day and age it it would offend someone somewhere along the way.]

EIGHTEEN. Don’t let a little dispute injure a great friendship. [It’s sad when this happens. I don’t make a huge number of friends, so I’d like to keep the ones I have.]

NINETEEN. When you realize you’ve made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it. [Not before you spend a little time alone with a quart of Haagen Daz, though.]

TWENTY. Smile when picking up the phone. The caller will hear it in your voice. [Great, just the tone I want to set for that spunky telemarketer.]

TWENTY-ONE. Spend some time alone. [Fortunately, I’m one of those people who enjoys having conversations with that witty and wise person, Dee S. Knight. There are enough times when no one else does…]

Thanks for bearing with me through these rules to live by! I’m sure I’d be nominated for sainthood if I’d managed to do all of these through my life. Needless to say, you won’t be seeing a Saint Dee any time in the future! That’s okay. I’d rather write fun erotic romance than be a saint, anyway. Lately, I’ve updated and republished my paranormal erotic romance, Passionate Destiny!

Blurb:

Dr. Margaret Amis-Hollings, professor of women’s studies at a small New Jersey college, is a woman who confidently knows who she is and what she expects of life. Until she loses her teaching position and her well-ordered life gets turned upside down. Then, in a subtle stroke of whimsy, fate tosses her a gift in an historic home and property in Virginia.

Harboring visions of Gone With the Wind, she determines to use River Peace as a temporary reprieve from her troubles. Images of Tara quickly evaporate when she arrives to discover the reality of her inheritance, however.

River Peace has history, grace and style going for it. After only one night, Margaret discovers that it also has a ghost. She’s visited by a male spirit from the time of the War Between the States, who knows how to make a woman feel special. And very loved.

Aaron Belton meets Margaret when she first arrives in Virginia. He’s renowned for historic renovations on a multitude of properties, but he’s got a special place in his heart for River Peace. He and his family believe the property always should have belonged to them. In fact, Aaron will do almost anything to make that happen. When his passion for the house changes to a passion for the house’s owner, Aaron’s as surprised as anyone. Can he gain both, the woman and the house? To do so, he’ll have to face a spectral being.

And his own destiny.

Amazon KU Buy link: https://tinyurl.com/sxy5sfh

Author Dee S. Knight:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! Once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity.

Author links:

Website: https://nomadauthors.com

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Excerpt:

She sipped her tea. “Have you ever heard that old poem about the guy in the house who feels something when he goes upstairs? I can’t even remember exactly how it goes.”

He nodded. “I think you mean Antigonish. It’s by Hughes Mearn. ‘As I was going up the stair. I met a man who wasn’t there! He wasn’t there again today! I wish, I wish, he’d stay away.’ Is that the one you mean?” His inflection was perfectly neutral, as was his expression.

Margaret laughed, shaking a little as she laced her fingers around the cup, holding it to warm her hands. “Yes, that’s the one. Is there any topic you don’t know something about?” She sipped, then took a deep breath. “Well, Doctor Belton, you’re going to think I’m over the edge, but that is what’s with the house.” She looked him full in the face.

His expression didn’t change. Not even a hint of smile played across his face. Margaret examined his eyes for…for what? Doubt or belief?

“You mean you’ve seen something.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes, I have.”

“Tell me about it.” Still no hint of humor colored his tone. He was treating her as an adult, which is more than she felt.

“I feel so stupid talking about this.” He reached out to take her cup and put it on the table before folding her hands in his.

“I’m not laughing. Tell me.”

Another deep breath. “The first night I was here I smelled pipe tobacco when I went upstairs. I was on the landing, and it was so strong I went back down and checked all the doors. It was gone by the time I got back, so I brushed it off. Then I saw a man where you were standing this morning. At the foot of the steps. He started up, watching me. And again this evening, it was he walking across the lawn toward me, not you.”

There was no need to tell him about the dreams. No need to admit to having made love to this ghost, or whatever it was. He would think she was crazy enough with what she had told him.

“What did he look like?” He tilted his head, looking at her with eyes that sparked with curiosity.

“You believe me?” Incredulous, she squeaked the question. He believed her! His acceptance of her story amazed her, considering she barely believed herself.

“I don’t disbelieve you. And it’s obvious that you think something is going on here. So, tell me.” His thumbs smoothed across her knuckles, an action she found calming.

Relaxing slightly, she answered him. “He looks old fashioned. Not as tall as you are, light blond hair. A beard that badly needs trimming. On the stairs he had on a gray overcoat, like a uniform and he carried a gun.”

“Gun?” Aaron’s voice was sharp, and his brows furrowed in concentration. “What kind of gun? A rifle or shotgun?”

“How would I know? A gun, that’s all. This evening he had that same coat and a hat. His eyes are exactly like yours.” She stopped to examine Aaron’s eyes. “That same dark, intense blue. It’s the only thing similar between you, except…” She felt herself blush and she looked away from Aaron.

“Except what,” he prodded.

“Except for the way you looked at me tonight on the porch. Before you kissed me. Every time I’ve seen him, he’s looked at me just that way. As though he loved me.” Now she met his steadfast gaze, waiting for his response.

Dee S. Knight
Available now, Book 2 of the Good Man series, One Woman Only
An Awareness of Evil in Mystic Desire
Join our newsletter
View our books and learn about us on our website

 

Quarantine yields creative outlet for Mass Bay instructor Dr. Ted Eaton

The quarantine times have given many of us the opportunity to try new things we may not have had time for, once upon a time. Author and college professor Edward Eaton, known to colleagues as “Dr. Ted,” has branched out from his regular classes by starting two series of YouTube videos, one on assorted writing topics, and the second on Haiku Reviews.

The idea was based on a suggestion from his provost at Mass Bay Community College, he says, but “they have taken on a life of their own.”

Ted EatonEaton holds a PhD in Theatre History and Literature, and has worked extensively as a theatre director and fight choreographer, most recently for the Massachusetts Institute of Technology Theatre Shakespeare Ensemble. He has been a theatre critic, and has a background in playwriting.

The videos on craft are not only directed to his students at the school, but they are for anyone, he says.

“If you are interested in Literature and film as a consumer, it might be nice to understand how the pieces are put together. If your interest in film is deeper or even professional, it might be nice to know that the ‘three-act’ structure is not the only one. So far I have mostly been playing with Aristotle–though there were two other videos that touch on related topics.”

Eaton said he plans to do several more videos on Aristotle, and then move on. “I want to share this information with people who have an interest in theatre and writing and want a good solid overview of the subjects.”

He specifically works through examples people will find it easy to relate to, such as Romeo and Juliet, Star Wars and more.

The Haiku Reviews came to be in specific reaction to other reviews he found online.

“I’ve gone on Youtube to look up movies to see what people think about them only to be stuck with 30 minutes (or more) of commentary. Sometimes it can be interesting, but usually I start yelling ‘Strunk and White!’ at the TV. ‘Get to the point and move on!’”

But it wasn’t just those. “When my kid was little, I would ask him about what he was reading or watching. He would go into such detail that I would get exhausted. At about the same time, I was asking students to write book reviews. Four-fifths of their papers would be synopses. So I started writing and sharing (with students and my boy) a synopsis of a book or a film in the form of a haiku.”

His format of three haikus that cover story, analysis, and judgment is different than others he’s seen. “(Those) reviews included a haiku and then commentary–like a comedian explaining his or her joke. I’m not going to explain my little haiku, unless the pictures I choose help.”

During his Covid-19 quarantine time, he’s also learned “how much fun it can be to play around with PowerPoint.” And he’s excited about the new creative ways he can reach out to readers.

“Absolutely. I had these ideas before. However, without the quarantine, I doubt I would have bothered to start my Youtube videos. Maybe I would have done the Haiku videos, but not for a while.”

His current Haiku videos include The Caine Mutiny, The Hobbit, Amadeus, the giantMagnificent Seven, and more.

Edward (Ted) Eaton has studied and taught at many schools in the States, China, Israel, Oman, and France. He is also an avid SCUBA diver and skier. He currently resides in Boston with his wife Silviya and son Christopher.

Publications include: Young adult series titles ROSI’S CASTLE • ROSI’S COMPANY • ROSI’S TIME, and drama titles ELIZABETH BATHORY • GIANTS FALL • HECTOR AND ACHILLES • Orpheus and Eurydice (2010), all from Dragonfly Publishing.  See all at his Amazon author page.

For more information, check out and subscribe to his YouTube channel, or see Dr. Ted’s website: http://www.edwardeaton.com/Edward_Eaton/Welcome.html

Meet Lyndi’s Adventurous Friend Janet Lane Walters!

Please welcome Lyndi’s adventurous friend Janet Lane Walters! Thnaks for being with us today. First, would you tell us a bit about yourself? What area of the country do you live in, do you have a family, pets, etc. Are you a coffee fiend, or do you have another “addiction” you must have on your desk at all times? What’s your education, if it’s relevant to your writing, and how does that education help you/or do you find that you can write well even without the diploma others might think they must have?

Greetings. I’ve been a writer since the dark ages. What I mean is the time of typewriters and carbon paper. My first short story was published in 1968. First poem in 1972 and my first book in 1972, I continued writing in all areas and then it happened. As the mother of four children, college beckoned and they wanted to go. I returned to work as a nurse and put writing aside.  I now have seven grandchildren from the age of thirty to eleven. Dealing with the emotional states of teenagers and patients seemed enough. I didn’t really stop writing but I mainly jotted ideas for stories. One day I read in the paper about the Hudson Valley Romance Writers’ conference. I went and met some terrific people. I joined and then had to write since part of their meetings was critiquing what people wrote. In 1994, I returned to writing with a sale, aided by Jane Toombs. Then together we discovered electronic publishing and I haven’t looked back since then. I don’t keep track of the books I’ve written. There are a lot.

At present, I live in the Hudson Valley on the west side of the river. In January, my husband died but I don’t live alone. My oldest son and my oldest granddaughter live here and keep me sequestered because of the Covid thing. As well as writing, I’ve done a few other things. For a time I composed music and even heard several pieces played in public. I’m also a student of Astrology and use this to cast my characters. As an obsession, I collect dragons. I have thirty or forty on my desk above the computer. At present, I am cat-less. Robespierre, my familiar and Maine Coon cat is immortalized in my cozy mystery series.

I do have a BA in English with a creative writing focus. I also have a BS in Nursing. Have these helped my career. Perhaps. I just enjoy exploring the worlds of my characters in mystery, contemporary romance, fantasy romance, paranormal romance and young adult fantasy.

Tell us about your most recent publication/whichever book you’d like to talk about today? 

My most recent book is Lines of Fire Challenged. This is the second book of a trilogy. Since I have a rather twisted imagination, this series began with my thoughts about vampires. I’m sure lots of readers will disagree with me but vampires leave me as cold as they are. As I was falling asleep one night, I began thinking about what would happen if some people could see the lines of fire on people’s skins and were able to both give and take from these lines and use the power for good. What if someone’s lines were tainted and if they often killed the person whose lines they fed on. Since this is total imagination what I learned in writing it was a lot about forests and a more rural lifestyle. I spent a lot of time reading about ancient cultures and forest living. While writing this book, this was my favorite book but now my new story is the one that’s my favorite.

How would you best describe your books?

I call myself an eclectic writer since I’ve tried most genres except horror. Those I won’t write or read. Medicine both real and also psychically healing are featured in many of my books. I enjoy reading and pulling a fact I can use from reading about ancient healing techniques and ones that seem over the top. There is always a romance except in my YA books but there friendships take the place of romance.

What is your favorite genre to write? To read?

My reading is rather like my writing. Since the first of the year, I’ve read several mysteries, science fiction, fantasy and romances. I’ve had a library card since age 4. An early reader and a late one.

What do you most like about writing? Least like? When did you first know you wanted to be an author?

I actually like just about everything about writing. Developing characters, making a plot that works, writing many drafts and revision. I’m not sure when I thought about becoming an author but I decided to write my own nurse romances after a bout with pneumonia and a shopping bag full of nurse romances. I realized most of the people who were writing them at the time knew little about medicine and nursing. What I don’t like is promoting but  I do it.

Do you belong to any writing groups? Are there any writing websites you find particularly useful?

I belong to the Hudson Valley Chapter of RWA. Used to belong to more but haven’t time to keep up with them all.

Is there any special music you like to listen to while writing? How does it inspire you?

Having music on isn’t my thing, though I would listen if I could hear it. When I’m witing, I enter the tory and all else isn’t heard. I’ve written in hospital waiting rooms and never missed a beat with words. I just zone out.

Do you belong to a critique group? What do you find most valuable about the experience?

I belong to a critique group that meets at my house. We’ve been around since 1994 with changes in those attending. I find a critique group helps for me at least to make sure the things I’ve slid over are put in during the next revision.

How did you find a publisher? How did you receive the Call?

Since I’ve been writing for a long time, I found one the hard way. This was in the days when publishers wanted the entire mss to consider for publication. This meant sending out copies with postage enough for a return and praying you wouldn’t have to retype the entire mss. The call came in an interesting way. My husband was doing his residency in Psychiatry. The letter came and I called. Since he was in a session and couldn’t be disturbed, I gave this message to the secretary. “Tell him I just sold my first child.” A few minutes later, I received a call from him wondering what had happened. Then I told him.

What are you writing now? What’s next for you—will you be making personal appearances anywhere our readers can find you?

At present I’m on deadline. Have until June 1 to finish Tangled Dreams book 6 in the Moon Child series. Personal appearances are not happening these days because of Covid so I sit at home and do social media.

My Places

https://twitter.com/JanetL717

 https://www.facebook.com/janet.l.walters.3?v=wall&story_f

bid=113639528680724

 http://bookswelove.net/

 http://wwweclecticwriter.blogspot.com

https://www.pinterest.com/shadyl717/

Buy Mark

http://bookswelove.net/walters-janet-lane/  You can find most of my books here.

What would you like to tell readers?

If you read a book by any author, consider leaving a review.

Myths, monsters and marvels

Welcome Lyndi’s Adventurous Friend Alice Renaud!

Social adWe all know what mermaids look like, don’t we? Long hair, seashell bra, fish tail. But mermaids didn’t always look like that. The sirens in The Odyssey who charmed Ulysses with their songs were part-woman, part… bird. Other depictions of mermaids show them with teeth and claws and rather scary. Welsh legends feature beautiful women who live in water but don’t have a fish tail, like the Lady of the Lake who gives King Arthur his sword Excalibur. Welsh folklore is full of aquatic creatures. As well as mermaids and mermen, there are afancs (water monsters, part crocodile, part beaver), mist hags, torrent spectres, and the mysterious Ceffyl Dwr, the Water Horse, who can appear in any body of water – lake, river, even baptismal fonts in churches. The Horse can sometimes take human form and walk on land, like the Scottish Selkie. In horse form he gallops along the shore at night, and if he meets a lone traveller, he offers him a ride on his back… only to throw him off in the marshes.

I grew up listening to and reading tales of such fantastic creatures. One day in Brittany, I saw young men come out of the sea, wearing black wetsuits. I had the idea of shape shifting mermen, who can move between a human and an aquatic form. In their aquatic form my mermen have webbed hands and feet, and a tail… but not a fish tail. They’re one hundred per cent mammal, hot blooded, and beautiful, of course! So the Sea of Love series was born. It follows the lives and loves of four young merfolk as they discover the world of humans… and fall for a human, in defiance of the laws of their people. The Welsh creatures of legends appear in all my stories. The Water Horse features in Music for a Merman, the second book in the series (the books in the series are stand-alone stories and can be read independently). Read the extract below to find out more!

Release your inner mermaidBlurb

Rob Regor knew that humans were trouble. All the shape shifting mermen of the Morvann Islands knew it. And human women were double trouble… especially when they were lying on the road in front of a digger.

Rob has a mission. Go to the mainland. Work as a policeman. Spy on humans. Report back to his father, the head of the Regor Merman Clan. It should be easy. Until he has to arrest Charlie. Rob can’t fight his attraction to the sexy eco-warrior, and it puts him on one hell of a collision course with his family and his Clan. Will he break the rules – or break her heart, and his?

Love ‘em and leave ‘em, that was Charlie’s motto. It had served her well until now. But Rob is different… Can she open up her heart to Rob – when a secret buried in her past surfaces and changes her completely?

Mammals FBBuy Links

https://amzn.to/2ZkU5wR

https://books2read.com/u/mdG7Bw

Excerpt

Somehow Charlie felt that one merman, at least, was near. She forced her body into perfect stillness, hoping that the invisible enemy wouldn’t hear the frantic beating of her heart. Unless he had infrared vision, he couldn’t see her any more than she could see him. Maybe he’d walk right past her.

The merman hissed at her out of the darkness. “I can smell you, human.”

A tiny wave lapped over her feet, though there was no breeze. A mysterious voice whispered in her head. The monsters won’t win. Run to the sea. I will protect you.

Maybe she was going mad. But if so, it was a helpful sort of madness. Strength was rising through her body, easing the pressure on her ribs. Wherever the voice had come from, she’d follow its advice. She gripped the stone harder and put her hand behind her back. She had to buy some time, until the damn moon came out and lit her path to freedom.

“What do you want?” she asked.

A suction sound informed her that her enemy was moving through the mud, but he wasn’t coming any closer to her. Maybe he too was waiting for light. Or maybe he was wary of her. The thought comforted her. He was right to be careful. She could be dangerous too.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the merman said. “I want to help you.”

Charlie almost sniggered. He must think I’m stupid. She’d play along, until she saw an opportunity to escape.

“That’s good,” she said, trying hard not to sound sarcastic. She put on her best “lost little girl” voice. “Can you help me get out of the marsh?”

“Sure!” The merman sounded eager, almost enthusiastic. She heard him move forward, but slowly. “I’ll give you a ride on my back, if you want.”

The voice murmured in Charlie’s head. She couldn’t tell if it was real, or a childhood memory. An old fisherman had told her that story once, when she was holidaying on the Morvann Islands with her parents. And she had read the same story, in the old book she’d found in the police station. The Water Horse offers the unwary traveller a ride on its back, only to throw him off and drown him in the marshes.

Valentine's Day date

 

My Love Affair With Haunted Houses

Welcome Lyndi’s Adventurous Friend Robert Herold!

(Author of The Eidola Project)

Haunted Houses and I go way back. I used to set up a haunted house display in my parent’s garage and enlist my brothers and friends to play the roles of various monsters as I, as a mad scientist, led other neighborhood kids through the chamber of horrors. The tour would end with me dissecting a monster in a serio-comic way, removing all manner of things from its abdomen (such as a pop bottle, an old shoe, and a dirty sock). At the conclusion, the creature’s arm would swing out at the other kids, courtesy of a little fishing line, and send the frightened kids running from the haunted garage.

After college, I took a job in a nursing home as I dipped my claws, er, toes, into the writing life. At the nursing home I reprised my earlier passion for haunted houses and got other members of the staff and the management to buy into the idea of putting on a haunted house for the patients. People were encouraged to retrieve a treat from the bottom of a bowl of intestines (OK, it was pasta). There were opportunities for (geriatric) boys to meet ghouls, and gals to hang out with all sorts of unsavory monsters. The conclusion, once again, was me as a mad scientist werewolf (showing my true colors) who would operate on a monster and once again pull out various things from its abdomen (this time it included a bedpan – I’m such a wit). Since I was an adult, I also jazzed it up childhood shtick with beakers of dry ice and colored liquid bubbling away behind me on repurposed bookshelves. The pièce de résistance was me (as the ersatz wolfman/mad scientist) throwing the breaker switch (OK, it was a sponge mop handle) and causing the creature’s eyes to light up. At this point, the creature’s arm would swing out, as before (remember the fishing line trick?) and grab one of the patients.  As I look back on my cavalier sensibilities, I realized I was damn lucky I didn’t cause a heart attack.

When my older son was in kindergarten and first grade I resurrected the haunted house motif, this time for my son’s birthday parties. I used all the same ideas to great success, perhaps too great. After causing one little girl to pee her pants, I realized I had ridden this horror express perhaps a little too far. My forays into this live on only in the nightmares of former kids, now adults.

The haunted house that left the biggest impression on me was as a high school student when I participated in a spooktacular haunted house that was put on by a local rock music station. I helped with the construction, mostly as a gofer, and got to be a werewolf (oh, the joy) once the place opened. This haunted house was not for kids, and had many a frightful room as we repurposed an old home before it was to be torn down. I, as the wolfman, was in a room with Dr. Frankenstein and the monster, and we’d all jump at folks and delight in their screams. Then, toward the end of the evening, in a moment of werewolf abandon, I decided to jump up onto the wall and grab the bars on a window. Much to my chagrin, and pain, the iron bars were actually wooden dowels that broke off and I crashed down onto my werewolf tailbone. I howled in pain. People loved it! I, however, too embarrassed to admit my pain and mistake, limped the three miles home that night instead of begging a ride from someone with wheels. My lesson: One must suffer for one’s art!

Blurb:

It’s 1885 and a drunk and rage-filled Nigel Pickford breaks up a phony medium’s séance. A strange twist of fate soon finds him part of a team investigating the afterlife.

The Eidola Project is an intrepid group of explorers dedicated to bringing the light of science to that which has been feared, misunderstood, and often manipulated by charlatans. They are a psychology professor, his assistant, an African-American physicist, a sideshow medium, and now a derelict, each possessing unique strengths and weaknesses.

Called to the brooding Hutchinson Estate to investigate rumored hauntings, they encounter deadly supernatural forces and a young woman driven to the brink of madness.

Will any of them survive?

Excerpt:

Sarah retrieved the lamp and twisted the peg. The outhouse door swung open on its own, and she gasped.

“Momma?” Sarah asked as she held out her lantern. No. A ruined version of Molly stood in the doorway.

Before her disappearance, people often commented on the sixteen-year-old’s beauty, but in the last twenty-eight days birds pecked out her pretty blue eyes, and maggots now swam in the sockets. Molly’s head hung to the left at an odd angle. Her skin looked mottled with patches of gray, blue, and black. A beetle crawled out of Molly’s half-opened mouth and darted back in.

Sarah’s heart leaped to her throat, and she jumped back. She lost her footing, fell onto the outhouse seat, and dropped the lantern to the floor. She bent to retrieve it; thankful the glass globe did not break. Sarah looked up and saw an empty doorway.

Impossible, she told herself. Must’ve dozed off, had a nightmare, and woke up when I dropped the lamp. Her heart still pounded in her chest, and Sarah took a deep breath to calm herself.

Holding the lamp before her once more, she crept out…

Author Bio:

The supernatural always had the allure of forbidden fruit, ever since Robert Herold’s mother refused to allow him, as a boy, to watch creature features on late night TV. She caved in. (Well, not literally.)

As a child, fresh snow provided him the opportunity to walk out onto neighbors’ lawns halfway and then make paw prints with his fingers as far as he could stretch. He would retrace the paw and boot prints, then fetch the neighbor kids and point out that someone turned into a werewolf on their front lawn. (They were skeptical.)

He has pursued many interests over the years (among them being a history teacher and a musician), but the supernatural always called to him. You could say he was haunted. Finally, following the siren’s call, he wrote The Eidola Project, based on a germ of an idea he had as a teenager.

Ultimately, he hopes the book gives you the creeps, and he means that in the best way possible.

 

Contact Links (list as many as you’d like):

Website:  https://robertheroldauthor.com/

Blog:

Email:  email@robertheroldauthor.com

Facebook:   https://www.facebook.com/RobertHeroldauthor/

Twitter:   https://twitter.com/RobertHerold666

Goodreads:   https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/48422164-the-eidola-project

BookBub:   https://www.bookbub.com/books/the-eidola-project-by-robert-herold

YouTube:   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SZovJ-MZQ5Y   (17 second animated book trailer!)

Instagram:   https://www.instagram.com/robertheroldauthor/

Pintrest:   https://www.pinterest.com/roberttherold/

LinkedIn:   https://www.linkedin.com/in/robert-herold-6675757/

Amazon Author Page:   https://www.amazon.com/Robert-Herold/e/B07YW82TLR

 

Links for Purchase (use as many as you’d like):

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/Eidola-Project-Novel-ebook/dp/B07YRB4F99/ref=sr_1_1

Barnes & Noble:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-eidola-project-robert-herold/1133990920

Kobo:   https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-eidola-project

Apple iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-eidola-project/id1482589362

Chapters:  https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/the-eidola-project/9781509224074-item.html

Google Books: https://books.google.com/books/about/The_Eidola_Project.htm

 

More about me:

I wanted to be a werewolf as a child, so writing is letting me live out my childhood fantasies! I live in Seattle and have been a middle school history teacher for many years. I also play in local band called Bluetopia. My wife works with homeless women. Our two grown sons live in Portlandia. We have a chihuahua, named Jangles, we inherited from my sister when she passed away. He watches the television with us and barks at any image of an animal or animated creature (including the Mucinex monster)!

I’ve always been fascinated with the horror genre. In addition to wanting to be a werewolf, subscribing to monster magazines, and building all the Universal Monsters models, as a boy I used to construct a haunted house in my family’s garage and invite the other kids in for a scare!

I just received the contract for the second book in the Eidola Project series, currently at the editor, a sequel involving a werewolf (I know, go figure!) called, Moonlight Becomes You. I am also halfway through writing book three, where the team travels cross-country (a big deal in 1885) to solve a series of murders by a deadly shapeshifting creature plaguing the coastal Native Americans in the Washington Territory. It’s entitled Totem of Terror.

Interesting part of the story to research:

I found researching William James’s actual forays into paranormal investigations fascinating. A great resource is The Ghost Hunters—William James and the Search for Scientific Proof of Life After Death, by Deborah Blum

What inspired the title of the book:

The book is about a team of 19th Century ghosthunters who become ensnared in a deadly investigation of a haunted house. Eidola is a Greek word for ghost, so I thought it fit perfectly.

 Advice for aspiring writers:

Come up with an ending first. It will provide direction and keep you from getting lost half-way. Also, pack the inner critic away in a lock box until you’re done with the rough draft. Having a sense of the whole, however rough, rightly gives you a sense of accomplishment. When editing, only let the critic out for short periods and only if it behaves itself. Work hard to polish your writing, but don’t let it cause you sink into despair or abandon your work. If I can do it, anyone can!

What I do for fun, besides writing:

Reading, watching movies and TV, taking long walks, eating ethnic, going to the theater & concerts, listening and playing music—especially jazz and classical (I play the sax and flute and I’m in a band).

 My favorite quote:

“If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly.” G. K. Chesterton, author of the Father Brown mysteries

Awards for The Eidola Project:

  • Currently a semi-finalist in the Chanticleer International Book Awards—Paranormal Category
  • 2nd Place in The Paranormal Romance Guild’s Reviewer’s Choice Awards
  • 3rd Place in The Grand Opening Awards

Ghosts and other nightly bumps

Have you ever had ghostly interactions? Ever heard unworldly noises like the sounds of mysterious footsteps in a hallway where no one walked, or someone calling your name or interior doors slamming where there was no breeze? I’ve often said I am the least intuitive person I’ve ever known, yet even I have had a kind of mini-event. My husband was in town buying things for a trip he was leaving for the next day. I was at home in our closet, getting things out and ready for him to pack. I very clearly heard the front door open and him call my name. Clear. As. A. Bell. I called out, “I’m in the bedroom!” When he didn’t say anything back or come in, I went to investigate. There was no one there. The door was locked and no one had come in. A year later, while he was living/working in Kansas City and I was still in Virginia, I woke one morning to the aroma of his after shave. He’d been gone for weeks—the sheets had
most definitely been washed. The scent lingered. I was so taken with it that I immediately called him to be sure everything was okay.

These small things are nothing compared to other stories I’ve heard. My mother-in-law said that her father-in-law appeared at the foot of her bed to say that goodbye and that he “loved the boys.” Later that morning they received the message that he had passed during the night. My mom has often heard her aunt saying her name. They were very close so she always takes comfort in it. When she and my aunt shared a place in Dallas, she used to smell pipe tobacco and hear a child laugh. Sometimes at night the lamp beside her chair would go on and off, on and off. She told me that she would say, “Stop that now,” and after a few childish titters the activity stopped. My best friend was driving down a street in the right lane. A car was on her left. As they approached an intersection, she plainly heard a voice say, “Look left!” She stopped immediately. The car to her left did not and was T-boned in the intersection. She told me that she has heard that voice give advice like that several times over the years, and she’s usually saved from something bad.

So…I believe. Not in Casper, no, but in spirits watching over us, playing with us, crossing into our plane. And so does my heroine in Passionate Destiny—after her own experiences in an old Virginia house she’s inherited. She senses, then feels, and finally sees Aaron, a Confederate soldier, both in the house and outdoors. Then she meets Aaron Belton, the contractor who she hires to bring the house into the 21 st century while maintaining its 19 th century character. She doesn’t know the relationship between the two Aarons, but she knows there’s something…something not quite right. With one, she shares a house. With the other she shares a destiny—a very passionate destiny.

Book: Passionate Destiny
Author: Dee S. Knight
Publisher: Nomad Authors Publishing
Release date: March 8, 2020
Buy link: https://tinyurl.com/sxy5sfh
Price: $2.99 (for eBook), $9.99 (for paperback) or KU
Word count: 85,960
Pages: 215

When Margaret Amis-Hollings inherits an old house in Virginia, she never suspects she’d be sharing it with a very loving ghost. Or that her interest would be divided between her spirit lover and the very live man who’s renovating the place. Suddenly her life is intertwined with a soldier from a previous century and with his descendant, Aaron, who has a secret concerning her home. Is it coincidence or the power
of a past love that makes her want to share her life—as well as her destiny—with Aaron?

Excerpt:
He straightened, standing close to the car and effectively blocking her exit. Still looking out the window, Margaret found herself facing his belt buckle, peeking out between the edges of the wool vest he wore.
Involuntarily, she moved her eyes a little lower and saw a bulge in his jeans that startled her with its size. She gulped, feeling herself blush, but couldn’t seem to force her eyes away.

Fantasies assailed her. Was his member really as large as it seemed, based on that bulge? She stopped herself. Member? That was no “member”; that was a cock, plain and simple. And a big one, too. God, how would it be to touch it through his rough jeans? Her hand lifted off her lap before she forced it back. Did he know how to use it? She’d bet he did. Was he married?

Wait a minute, married? Who cared? This was a fantasy.

Her panties were wet, the results of her wayward thoughts, and her nipples scraped hard against her blouse. She licked her lips, imagining his jeans pulled down around his thighs, his huge cock positioned right at her point of entry. He fit perfectly between her legs, as he slid through the moisture that betrayed her seeming disinterest, pushing into her…

She suddenly became aware that he had bent down and was speaking. Mentally shaking herself, she tried to concentrate on his words, at the same time hoping he didn’t have mind reading capabilities.

“…road will narrow, and twist around. County maintenance ends after about a mile, so it deteriorates a little, but you shouldn’t have any trouble in this.” He patted the roof of the Ford sedan she had borrowed from her mother in exchange for her Z4 roadster. “The Rawling place is just about the only thing back that way. You’ll see the sign for River Peace. Go right up the drive and the house is at the top of the rise. Got it?”

“Yes,” she said tersely. She realized she sounded a bit testy, finding it difficult to focus on the directions he had just given rather than the bulge in his jeans. “Sounds simple enough. Uh… Go up the road a couple of miles until it deteriorates and then turn right up the drive.”

He blew out an exasperated breath. “No, turn around and go back toward town. Take the first road to the right. That’s Route 803. From there it’s a couple of miles and you turn right up the drive. Do you need me to lead you?”

“There’s no need to get male about this. Sounds like there are only two turns. I think I can handle that all right, thank you.”

Snap! She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of the pump shutting off, then dug out her wallet as he put the pump handle back in place and screwed the gas cap on. He spoke and waved to the man behind her, who waved back before getting in his car.

“It’s forty-one dollars,” he told her when he came back to her window again. “They’ll take it inside.”

She thrust two twenty-dollar bills and a five at him. “Here. Why do I have to go inside?” He looked at the bills in her hand and laughter lit his eyes. “Why indeed?” he murmured. He took the money and stood to leave.

“Wait!” Margaret called out. “Do you know a man named”—she picked up Ron Gibson’s letter from the seat beside her—”Aaron Belton? He’s supposed to be some sort of carpenter or construction guy or something. In a burg this size I figured everyone would know everyone else.”

Leaning down again, he smiled, and Margaret thought her heart would stop. “Yeah, I know him. What do you want with him?”

“If you don’t mind my saying so, you’re awfully inquisitive. I have business with him, and that’s all you need to know. Do you have any idea how I can reach him? Is he known for good work?”

“Best work you’ll find in four counties. Can’t vouch for anything beyond that. He’s in the phone book.” With that, he straightened and strode off.

She watched him go into the building, then a few minutes later come out and climb in the pickup across the island from her. Her mouth dropped open as he started the engine. When she hit her horn, he merely stuck his arm out the window, waved four dollar bills in the air, and pulled away.

About Dee:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her
characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they
had sex, lots of sex.
After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and
Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors
website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and
husband to all three ladies! Once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your
comment can support a selected charity.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

An adventure she never asked for, a past she never knew #MFRWHooks

One of the themes of this blog is adventure, which I think everyone should experience at some point. But sometimes adventures are planned…and sometimes….

elfqueen800x1200 As she reached Broadway, a worn blue bicycle pulled up next to her, horn screeching over its rider’s distinctive squeal. “Where is your car, woman?”
Jelani eyed her best friend, Iris Pallaton, whose blonde hair swirled above the bright cloud of a magenta blouse. “Richard had it towed.”
“Rat bastard!”
“Tell me about it. I’m late.” Jelani headed off again.
Iris pedaled along the curb beside her. “You should call his supervisor and complain.”
“And what? Humiliate myself because he’s a jerk? Screw him!”
“Maybe you should.” Iris laughed. “Then he’d be too awed to bother you again.”
Jelani glared as they crossed the street. “Funny.”
On the far side, she caught the glint of glass in the middle of the sidewalk. “What idiot would drop a bottle when there’s a trash can right there?” she grumbled. “I’ll get it. First karma points of the day.”
Iris climbed off the bike and put down the kickstand. “What is that?” She bent down near the object. “Oh, sweet Gaia! It’s a glass slipper!”
No kidding. It really appeared to be a shoe made out of glass. A large one.
“Who would have left this here?” Jelani picked it up, looking around for a prankster camera team. Something kept her from tossing the shoe.
“Try it on,” Iris whispered. “It would get Richard Snyder off your mind.”
“Richard is not on my mind. He’s on my crap list.”
“Oooh. Sorry.” Iris ran her finger over the shoe. “You’re chicken anyway.”
“Don’t even go there.”
“Chicken. Bawk-bawk.” Iris giggled.
“Fine! If it means I can get to work.” Reaching down with her right hand, she unzipped her boot and kicked it off. “Ready? You want a picture?”
Iris dug for her cellphone and raised it, ready to take a shot. “Just in case your prince shows up right then.”
“I don’t need a prince,” Jelani complained. “I don’t need a man. I need a new life.”
Setting the shoe on the ground, Jelani slipped her foot in it and gently stepped down, not sure to what expect.
The slipper shattered, slicing into the sole of her foot.
Nauseous, Jelani screamed and could only watch in disbelief as tiny men sprang from the blood trickling under the broken shoe. She lost track of how many. With the biggest maybe two inches high, the men scattered into the shadows around the nearest building and disappeared.
She lifted her foot, shaking off the blood, and examined her sole to see if glass remained mfrw-book-hooks400buried in her skin.
“Did you see that?” Iris gasped, nearly breathless. She grabbed at the wall, eyes closed for a moment.
Jelani felt faint, too, suddenly washed out. “I don’t know.”
There were no glass fragments in her foot or anywhere. The shoe had vanished. The only trace of the whole incident was dark blood, slowly drying in the sun on the sidewalk. As she watched, the cuts in her foot healed.
Iris knelt down to peer at Jelani’s foot.      “There were little people. Naked little people. They ran away. I swear they did.”
“Did you get pictures?”
“I almost forgot!” Iris got up and activated the screen on her cell phone, pressed the arrow. Jelani leaned close to watch the whole thing replay in living color. “Oh. Bless. My. God,” Iris said, in her shock reverting to the male deity.
Jelani nodded. “And the horse He rode in on.”

****

When Jelani tries on a real glass slipper left lying on the sidewalk, it splits in half and out pour dozens of two-inch high creatures who scurry away into the shadows. As if that’s not bizarre enough, she is soon approached by two men claiming (of all things) to be elves who need her help to rescue their queen.

Buy now at Amazon!

https://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=296360

%d bloggers like this: