Ha! I talked this text!!

Caution, unedited- as always, read at your own risk.

BTW, I'm searching for a title for this one. In case you think of one.



He heard Kelly move out of Minuet’s room, tiptoeing down the hall. She paused at the top of the stairs, it was only for a second but he felt it. That moment of hesitation told him she was feeling that day’s effects too. It spoke of her fear, her courage and made him want to rip something to shreds. She was afraid, but she had no choice.

She would walk in here and seduce him if she had to. Kelly was that strong and just that vulnerable. He couldn’t afford to refuse her courage. She had no time for a courtship, no time to pretend that was something a creature like him could give her. The end of time was the legacy they’d been given.

She appeared in the doorway, outlined by the dark entry behind her. Coming out of the shadows to him, the wind witch smiled with her lips, but her eyes could not.

Cord stood slowly as she stopped three feet away from him. Her gaze didn’t waver as she raised her chin to look him in the eye.

“You’re afraid,” he observed softly.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry,”

“Will you hurt me?” Kelly asked.

“Probably, but never by choice,” he answered as honestly as he could.

“Are you afraid?” she wanted to know.

“Not of this, a little of you,” he admitted.

“I scare you?” She did smile this time.

“More than you can know. But the problem isn’t yours.”

“No, it’s not my problem. It makes me feel better though.”

Cord took a small step and reached for her, he had to. Standing so close and discussing the distance fear was putting between them was a fine new form of torture. His palm ran down her arm from shoulder to elbow in a soft caress. He didn’t close his fingers around silky flesh, didn’t draw her to him. There was nothing he wanted more than to help her cross the cold space between them but he refused to take that choice from her too.

All she had to do was ask and he’d gladly cross it for her. He suspected she knew that. She was looking at him from the safety of her old life. Coming to him now would shed that illusion forever.

A little help from my friends

This week I was talking to an author friend, Sarah McCarty, marveling at how she accomplished so much writing in what seems like so little time. Good friend that she is, she told me her secret. She uses the latest thing in voice recognition, enabling her to dictate instead of type. Obviously, talking is faster than typing.

So went to the Internet to research voice recognition. I was disappointed to learn that the program Sarah uses does not have a Windows Vista version. Luckily I read down to the next paragraph of that review and discovered Vista has voice recognition built in. The ability to chat with my computer had been mine for almost a year and I didn’t know it.

Wally World supplied a headset and yesterday my computer and I started getting acquainted. It’s a new skill, I still talk really slow but it’s faster than typeing. For me, the really cool thing about it is, the computer knows how to spell way better than I do. The program on Vista does not have punctuation suggestions, I have to put in my own, but who cares? I’m talking and the words appear on the screen, I love it.

I’m hoping to develop the skill Sarah has mastered and be able to dictate more easily than typing. It will certainly go faster which would increase production. Well, we’ll see what happens. I’m having a lot of fun learning.

Why didn't I think of that????

A dear friend, who I now consider BRILLIENT, made the most amazing suggestion to my last post. She was sensitive to the fact that her logical solution might highlight a certain “void” in my mental process. Translation = She emailed me so I wouldn’t look like an idiot.

Her suggestion was to have a person who writes reviews, and does it well, read my book and help me with writing the synopsis. (hand to forehead) BRILLIENT!

Um, I do dat next time.

Unfortunately, I’ve already sent my efforts to the agent.

Reviewing a book is such a distinct talent and I’ve always marveled at the skill. There is no question, I don’t have that ability. If I could tell the story on one page, I probably wouldn’t write 160 pages.

I was Lucky!

I submitted my first manuscript to Ellora's Cave long enough ago that I didn’t have to write a query letter or an outline and they still read the thing. I know, amazing. The deal is, I didn’t learn an important skill. Query letter and interesting synopsis.

I’ve tried. My editor, all bow to Goddess of the Corned, finally told me she has to ignore my synopsis because I make such a mess of them. If she reads it she’s sure she’ll hate the story. Then reading the book she finds something completely different. LOL

I will confess that I’ve never had a manuscript refused, yet. Goes to show how bad I am at synopsis. Even though my editor is sure she’ll hate the story before she starts reading it, I manage to change her mind with the manuscript. Talk about digging a hole to climb out of.

Here is where my problem begins. So I was amazingly asked to submit a full manuscript the first time I pitched a New York publishing house editor. Yikes. Now I have to figure out how to write a query letter to get an agent. If I get a response from an agent, they want a synopsis along with a partial. Dang it!

I’ve been struggling with the mysterious query letter and elusive synopsis. The only conclusion I’ve come up with is, query letter equals the writer flashing the agent. It’s distinctly uncomfortable for the flasher. The flash recipient is understandably jaded. They get flashed all day long.

(head to desk, repeat until knowledge enters) The more I read about this skill the less I know about it. So again, luck is going to play a huge part in getting anyone to read this manuscript. Please, I don’t recommend relying on luck. Some of us are just reduced to it.

Next Ghost Unit

Working title BLIND FIRE.... unedited, read at your own risk.

Barley five minutes later he came back to the kitchen dressed in a lavender towel slung low on his hips, carrying his clothes. Still on the phone Sam simply raised her eyebrows as he walked through the kitchen to the garage. Clothes in the washer, he returned.

Sam was still wrangling on the phone, tense and frustrated. “I realize that, Mr. Sornen, however this is the same charity you’ve supported for the last four years. Father Diaz is simply not going this year for health reasons.” Sam listened a minute. “But your contribution is vital to health education.” Again silence as she listened to the response. “Yes, it has been a difficult year, however the need still exists. I don’t understand what has changed.”

The doorbell rang, Sam whipped around frowning in the direction of the front door as Charlie sauntered through the living room to answer it. She couldn’t afford to let go of the weasel on the phone trying to back out of his commitment, but her door being answered by a towel clad Charlie presented another huge problem. It was too late. Casual as you please, Charlie opened the door.

Remington Morgan grinned widely and gave Charlie the once over as he stood on the front step. “You’re not hard to find.”

Apollo barked softly and his tail waged in greeting to the familiar person entering the house.

“Wasn’t making an effort to hide,” Charlie commented as he stepped back and let Rem in. “Your cell fall in the john or something? Mine is working fine if you wanted to find me.”

“Wanted visual confirmation of intel. Lavender looks good on you buddy,” Rem’s grin seemed a permanent fixture on his face.

“Intel my ass. You’re nosy as hell. Any other reason you’re visiting my woman’s house in middle of the day?”

“I have a few cases of supplies she needed from one of Robert’s companies. Was going to ask her where to drop it? But mostly I’m here to see if all the chatter about you and her is true.”

“That intel being mostly none of your business never occurred to you?”

“Nope. New thought entirely,” Rem reached down and held his hand out to Apollo who didn’t bother sniffing it, just jammed his head under it in doggie demand for some scratching or petting.

Mr. Sornen launched into another polite diatribe on the reasons his company could not be held responsible for the economy and its impact on their ability to contribute at this time. Sam injected a forceful “But..” into the phone which the man ignored as she watched two men in front of her.

“So you needed to clean up already?” Rem wanted to know in poorly veiled amusement at Charlie’s state of undress.

“After manual labor a gentlemen makes an effort not to smell like a warthog. Something I’m sure Kat is working with you over,” Charlie and Rem moved to the kitchen, Sam followed them, the phone still clutched to her ear.

“Manual labor? You already break something in here?” Rem glanced around the kitchen with a brow raised. The kitchen table was strewn with lists of supplies, shipping manifests and various documents. The tangle of paper she was trying to tame.

“Building something. Have a look,” Charlie led the way to the back, and both men and the dog stepped out into the back yard to admire the new trash prison.

Apparently the thing had to be viewed from all angles. Charlie explained and Rem admired as they slowly moved around it. Sam stood at her back door with an idiot whining in her ear and watched the neighbors on both sides, who of course had to be in their back yards, gape at the toweled muscle man in her yard. What were the chances that both neighbors were in their back yards at one time? When did that ever happen? When the almost naked man was in her yard, that’s when.

Still clutching the phone and trying to make an intelligible argument, Sam went out onto her back step in the hope of getting Charlie’s attention to point out he was making a spectacle of himself. Nether looked at her as the manly power tool discussion broke out over Charlie’s tool pile.

Her frustration reached new levels as Apollo trotted to the chain link fence to investigate her neighbor’s five year old son on the other side. Both guys followed the dog to assure the kid’s father that Apollo was harmless to kids. Introductions were going on, the child was trying to reach through the fence to pet the dog and Bob, the neighbor, wasn’t missing a beat on extracting information under the guise of admiring the new trash shed.

Unaware stress had raised her voice, Sam watched in growing embarrassment, “No! I do not understand your argument. The children need those supplies. This is a small, private mission. Contributions are the way…”

Rem was taking the five year old from his father who had lifted him over the fence. Apollo and child were greeting each other like long lost buddies as Rem put the child down. Charlie was explaining the dog’s training and special affinity for children. Bob the neighbor leaned over the fence watching his son and the dog. It was all very manly and she could smell the neighborhood curiosity reaching a new high.

In frustration Sam took the phone away from her ear, “Charlie, could I have a word with you?” All the men immediately stopped and looked at her.

“Sure babe.”

Not gonna find an Easter Egg in this..

I don't think it matters how brightly painted they are, the eggs are not gonna be found 'til it melts.

Yep, we gots your winter wonder land Easter here. Winter storm warnings, road warnings, all of it.

I am gettin' a bit tired of being a snow bunny. I was looking forward to muddy, rainy spring bunny, dang it.

Hope everyone has a lovely weekend. We'll be over here making our Easter snow man. LOL

Spring is Next!!

Yayyyy, I saw the buds in my garden today. Spring will come. The flowers will bloom and all will be well with the world.

Spring is not my favorite season but every year at the end of winter I change my mind. LOL

Easter weekend is upon us and there will be much chocolate, many eggs and a substantial amount of vinegar used in the coloring of said eggs.

Hope everyone enjoys the holiday!!

A little dragon fire...

Unedited. Read at your own risk.



“Kelly, enough crawling the big fungus. We don’t know where it’s been.” Molly interrupted. “I was willing to pretend I couldn’t hear every word of the argument from the kitchen door but I draw the line at copulation.”

Kelly reluctantly turned her head to face her friend. He had one arm snaking up her back, his hand cupping the back of her head. They both knew he’d allowed her to turn her head. She wasn’t pulling away from him as she did it. Cord didn’t feel that was reason to stop tasting so continued down her cheek and around her ear.

“Not to worry. Copulation will not… um, oh,” Kelly seemed to lose her train of thought as his tongue dragged slowly down the side of her neck. “Relax Molly, you’re turn is coming,” she managed to crook.

“Oh really?” Molly faced them from the stove, one hand on hip the other brandishing a wooden spoon. “Fungus thinks he’s getting some witch sandwich action? Kelly, you might think he’s all portabella in garlic butter but he just became poop fur to me.”

The rumble of laughter in his chest was a welcome interruption. Cord’s head lifted from Kelly’s body as he chuckled and slowly let Kelly go. “That’s a good one, Mol. Sure you don’t want to save poop fur for Range? It’s particularly disgusting.”

Kelly had a hold of Cord’s hand and was edging him to the table. “This one is mine, Molly,” she stated firmly but laughter laced each word. “You’ll have to settle for your own dragon. I don’t share.”

Molly was still frowning at them. The house coat was now swallowed under a long apron that was obviously Kelly’s. Molly would be giving in to wishful thinking to call herself five foot three inches. Kelly was easily six foot.

“He’s grown! Molly exclaimed as they stepped into the kitchen. “Kelly, look at him. He’s gotten all big.” The spoon wavered at she pointed it a Cord.

“Is something burning? Cord asked leaving Kelly’s side to stride towards Molly and the stove.

“Oh my God. The muffins. Pot holders. I need potholders,” Molly exclaimed as she turned to pull out draws and snapped the shut in frustration.

Cord opened the oven and pulled out a tray of golden muffins, placing them carefully on cooling rack by the stove. Both Kelly and Molly froze.

“Your hand?” Kelly breathed in concern.

“Dragons have a thing for fire,” Cord commented. “It doesn’t exactly burn us.” He held up his hand so both women could see his unscathed palm.

“Oh,” Molly gulped and backed up a step.

“But we don’t know shit about cooking. Should I stir this gravy while you get over it?” Cord asked Molly conversationally. “Smells too good to let it burn over a little shock.”

Molly nodded and Cord plucked the wooden spoon out of her hand.

“Thanks,” she responded automatically. “I cook when I’m nervous, or…” her words dropped off as she stared at Cord stirring her gravy and backed closer to Kelly.

“I think we’re in trouble,” Molly said after a brief silence.

“Yeah,” Kelly agreed with her.

“This is really happening,” Molly continued.

Cord took the pan of gravy off the stove, placing it beside the muffins. “Mind if I eat while we discus what’s happening?”

Happy St. Pat's

Hope your day filled with happiness. This is the only day when one can safely drink something green. But still, I'd be careful.

Curse of the creative mind

I keep coming up with better stories than real life. I mean look at the political environment right now. Wow, what a great romantic suspense world that could be. The behind the scenes intrigue thick and powerful. Great stuff.

There is a real story of a Little Rock CFO disappearing without a trace. The company he worked for did something like build the Clinton Library and other land mark Arkansas projects. Oh my, good stuff. Not to belittle the pain his family is going through now. There are no clues. No money missing from his company. Nothing missing from his abandoned vehicle. Just vanished.

Then there are the satellite photos that are showing us lost cities beneath jungles and other places. Yummy. Think of what they could discover that they shouldn’t in a wicked paranormal. –fanning self-

Arrrgggggg… how about the embracing couple dug up in Italy, I think it was. OMG sooo romantic. Entwined in death like nothing we’ve ever seen. What an absolutely sizzling historical. Who were they? Why is death the embrace that unites them forever? What drove them to this, or who?

The melting south pole. OMG!!! So much long buried area emerging daily. An environment that used to be deadly to humans. What was it protecting? Who has something to lose and who has everything to gain?

Need I go on? Now that I have given myself permission to dream I can’t stop. Everything has a story to tell. I need to stop reading the news or watching the Discovery channel. The History channel must be banned as well. Okay, all CNN channels and the Fox New Network. Um, perhaps the real life mystery channel too. Okay, now I can finish something I’ve already started.

Capitols to start a sentence and Paragraphs USE THEM

It hurts my head when I read people who say they are published authors and wander around blogland leaving long comments with no capitals or worse, no paragraphs. Okay, not using capitols to start a sentence is probably worse. It shows a grade school lack of learnin'. Edjamacation is good!

I get tired of reading with no white space on a page. I NEEDS IT.

Do not tell me you’re a professional and then write like an id***!! First, after reading your sloppy thoughts I will never buy a book of yours. Second, I’ll think a lot less of you and the house that you write for.

Is that unfair? I don’t think so. After one states they are an author, the person has set themselves up as a professional and they are judged on that level. If I am judging, so are untold numbers who read the very popular blog they are posting on.

Humph, all done rantin'.

When is my next book being released???

EDITED TO ADD: I am not complaining. I really love getting notes from anyone willing to spend a bit of their time writing me. It makes my day. Telling me you're wanting another book from me is inspiration. I must be doing something right. Truthfully, authors live for that stuff. We spend a lot of time alone talking to the voices in our heads. Real people are kinda nice to chat with sometimes. LOL


Several wonderful people have asked me this question. I love hearing from you but I guess I should say something in a more public setting than emails.

Here is the deal. I just finished a paranormal told through an erotic romance. However, this manuscript was solicited by a New York Print House. I sent it to them Monday. As I understand it, waiting to hear if they wish to consider it could take six to nine months. Huge difference from an epublishing time table. I’m sure this is because volume is different or something as logical as that.

If I’d sent it to my beloved editor at EC, I’d wait four to six weeks to hear from her. That’s how booked she is, but still, way better than six to nine months.

Right now I’m working on another Ghost Unit book for EC. If they accept it, I hope to know a publish date some time this summer. Also working on the dragon. I’m aiming for a mid size book and would like to get it finished fairly soon.

I would love to have at least two releases through epub this year, but do not have dates on that yet.

I’m so thrilled people want to see the next book. That compliment is amazing to me and I can’t thank you enough for letting me know that’s how you feel. I wish I wrote faster but on the other hand, it would be garbage if I did. It doesn’t come out of my head in readable fashion. LOL I have to work on it a while to get the book how it needs to sound.

Dragons beyond this point...

Unedited excerpt. Sorry, read at your own risk.

“You should have slapped my face and told me to keep my animal paws off you.”

Her brows went up. “How could I do that? Reading you in the kitchen was informative. You think my daughter is a miracle. You would give your life to protect her. But that’s not the reason I wanted that kiss, Cord. When you think of me you are loyalty, protection, defense and you think I’m hot. I’m willing to be an idiot long enough for the big, handsome man to lick every inch of my body, several times. I’m finding it difficult to be opposed to that plan.”

Cord crossed the space between them and cupped her face with both hands. “No, baby, you don’t read me like you think. You read what you want to see. Those intentions are true, but not the only truth, Kelly girl.” His nose was almost touching hers as he held her gently. “Look again. Tell me what you see.”

Her eyes on his, her spirit spread through his consciousness. She became an inquisitive spring breeze that touched him from the inside out. His response was powerful, surging to meet her, surrounding her, blending with her. He didn’t shield its depth from the beautiful wind witch who stroked him with her attention.

“Possession,” she gasped.

“Yes,” he gritted. Complete, irrevocable possession. I mentioned I was the product of brilliant minds. Notice I didn’t say the child of, I used the words product of. In the making of me, DNA was gathered from many sources. All predators, some you know, some no longer exist, but the significance of those species was not just skill as deadly aggressors. I didn’t realize the importance of their mating habits before. Every one of those predators mates for life."

He was leaning over her again. He took his hands off her, flattening them on the wall. If she’d looked down she’d see deep palm prints in the drywall where his hands had been while kissing her. He wasn’t harmless and gentle. He wasn’t some casual thrill because it had been so long. She needed to understand that he was her last thrill.

Her brows drew together as she regarded him. “It’s not like…”

“It’s not your fault. I’m not a man. Understand?” Even though she was a wind witch she was still thinking in terms of him being a man or something with human reactions.

“I’m not anything you could have dreamed up. I’m not even an animal. I’m the product of desperate times. A creature made to endure the end of the world when dragons ruled. I exist to support the fragile hope that humans could survive if they were given another chance.” Cord stopped. This wasn’t making sense to her. He could see it on her face. Of course it wasn’t.




Well, telling you more would give a way to much.

How we make do...

The latest thing in housing. See, no property taxes, no water bill, no electric bill and can be relocated real easy to avoid that forclosure business.

Sorry, only available in whatever size the old trailer you find in a field is. However, notice all the room for the over sized beer cooler on top and a safety rope around the upper deck. This baby is loaded!

Texas and Ohio people GO VOTE

There, did my part.
Here in Ohio it is an evil day. Raining ice and turning wicked cold after a very warm day Monday. So we have ice sheets everywhere. Be careful out there.

One more thought. If you don't vote you've given up the right to complain. Can't have that.

You know you've lived in the north to long when...

...Sunshine the first week of March makes you so happy you could kiss the melting snow.

...Sunshine the first week of March renews your faith in spring, it will happen sometime.

...Sunshine the first week of March is a surprise.

...Sunshine the first week of March reminds you to shower soon, you'll have to go out doors at some point.

...Sunshine the first week of March is a reason to shower.

....Sunshine the first week of March hurts your eyes and makes you cower in a shadow.

...People are sure Gollum, form Lord of the Rings, is a close relation of yours.

Is it workin for you?

Been editing and felt like I needed to do something active today.

See how well that works?

What did you do Sunday?