Happy Friday! Every time I hear this song, I think of Easy and Sam. Doesn’t matter if they’re in the Hummer on their road trip to hell, or they’re on his Harley. This song just sings of their sexy times. 😉 I’m going to grab another cup of coffee, sit back, and enjoy!
Have a great weekend. I’m doing the Jammie thing tomorrow. Sprout–or as his parents’ call him, Stormaggedon–is coming to play for the afternoon. Fun times! What’re your plans?
When I read this nudge from the Universe, I thought of Yogi Beara, the great Yankees catcher known for his malaprops, especially when he said, “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.” That always made sense to me. And in some ways, I think the big U agrees with Yogi.
For every fork in the road, Silver, there are often two paths from which to choose: the one you “should” take and the one you want to take.
Take the second. Always take the second.
I did,
~The Universe
© http://www.tut.com ®Man, Silver, could life rock any more than it does?
Yeah, this is a whole lot better than sticking a fork in it because it’s done, right? 😆 Life rocks pretty good right now. How ’bout y’all? Which way do you go when you come to a fork in the road?
I love today’s theme for #1lineWed. It’s all about the questions and reminds me of my high school journalism days when we had to cover the “What, Where, When, Who, and How?” of a story. All of these snippets are in Easy’s POV.
He’s shown up on a woman’s front porch. A former nurse, she’s prepared to get the bullet out and sew him up.
“This is going to hurt.”
“It already fuckin’ hurts, babe.”
She pressed her lips together and *tsked*. She fucking *tsked*. Who does that besides an old maid school teacher?
Easy’s made it back to the Nightrider clubhouse, ready to face the music.
[Digger] glanced at me.
“We’ve been on lock down since you disappeared.”
I scrubbed at my jaw. Time was still sort of relative. “How long have I been gone?”
“Six days.”
“Fuck.”
“Yup. ‘Bout sums it up.”
Lots of questions in this slightly NSFW scene. At least Easy is honest. 😉
“What’s your name?”
Her eyes narrowed and her nose did this little twitchy thing as she pressed her lips together. My dick liked that a lot. It was makin’ plans to get between those lips with that cute little nose buried in my groin while I came in her mouth.
“Y’all don’t need to know.”
“Yeah, babe, we do. You want to see the kids, we need to know your name.”
Her nose squiggled again. “Fine. I’m Sam Prescott.”
“Sam?”
“Short for Samantha, okay?” She thrust her chin at me. “Did you murder Sarah?”
Why did she automatically assume Pretty was dead, much less murdered? Jonah had just told her Pretty—Sarah—was gone and to come. Still, she was gutsy to ask that question. I answered honestly. “No.”
“The only way she’d leave the kids is if she’s dead. If you didn’t kill her, who did?”
Who has questions? To ask, share, or answer?!? 😉
That snickerdoodle pie? Still in my recipe box. I’ll get to it this week at some point. I made the mistake of getting on the scales. UGH! 😛 Anyway, since I couldn’t share the pie, I’ll share this instead. Hope it’s just as tasty! It’s the final–I think–blurb for NIGHT SHIFT. Whatcha y’all think?
*****
Everybody knows you don’t mess with a big, bad Wolf. Except Samantha Prescott…
He’s Easy…
Elijah “Easy” Cross works the night shift for the Nightriders MC, collecting pay-offs, protection money, and “policing” their properties. “Live to ride, ride to live” takes on a whole new meaning when a rival MC—the Hell Dogs shoots him and gives chase with the intent to kill. Easy ends up on a woman’s front porch, a single mom hiding deadly secrets from the same people after him. When she’s brutally murdered by the Hell Dogs, he feels responsible and promises to protect her two kids. Easy and his Nightrider brothers might ride on the far side of the law but hell, yeah their honor is worth dying for, and a promise is a promise.
And she’s not…
Samantha “Sam” Prescott only wants two things from the Nightriders —her niece and nephew. It’s bad enough her twin got involved with an outlaw motorcycle gang—and was murdered—but now Sam is desperate to extricate herself and the kids. To do that, she has to escape Easy, the sexy biker with boy-next-door dimples and killer instincts. It’s that whole killer thing she must keep in mind when the moonstruck Wolf is determined to make her his mate. Her instincts scream, “RUN!” Her hormones want to get down and dirty with the man who turns her boneless with a kiss.
When Sam is kidnapped and tortured by the Hell Dogs, Easy must decide to either keep his promise to ride through the fires of hell to find her or let her go for good, even if it kills him.
Warning: Lots of down and dirty sex, extreme violence—including against women—of the blood and guts kind, alpha MC members, and a moonstruck Wolf shifter with dimples. This is the dark side of the Moonstruck world where sex is rough, death is brutal, and laws don’t mean jack.
*****
Do y’all think that last bit is enough of a warning? Well along with that whole kidnapped and tortured thing. Bad stuff happen to some of the women. REALLY bad stuff. I don’t want to put an actual trigger warning in the blurb because that gets me sent to Amazon jail. 😦 Thoughts?
I cleaned out a lot of my DVR files this weekend. GAME OF THRONES! OMG! This is going to be a crazy season. Several OKRWA members got into a discussion at lunch on Saturday about it. General consensus? Tyrion is hot! And by association, or because of, so is Peter Drinklage, the actor who portrays “The Imp.” OUTLANDER! OMGWTF?!?! 😯 I’m gobsmacked. That’s all I’m going to say. Well…that and Jamie has a fine, FINE ass.
Maybe favorite “new” show is iZombie. I’m not a zombie aficionado, but this show on the CW has smartly written, three-dimensional characters for all the graphic novel tone of the show. Premise: Over-achieving medical intern is scratched by a zombie and turned. She takes a job as the assistant ME because morgue…brains. Oh, and zombie taste buds are dead like them so they eat hot sauce on everything. Anyway, our intrepid young zombie gets psychic flashes of the murdered victims whose brains she eats so she teams up with a homicide detective who believes her to be psychic. It’s fun. Don’t judge me. BITTEN is also back and da-yam! Now if LOST GIRL would just start with the new season!
I’m reading books the RITA finals, therefore I can’t speak about what I’m reading. I will say I’m going to have an awful time judging. Yes, the books ARE that good!!!
What TV shows/movies are you watching? Any good books? Not that I have time but I’m always looking to add to the ol’ TBR pile! 😀
And one last meander… Trying to decided my next project. With luck, NIGHT SHIFT will be out in a couple of weeks but while I’m waiting on beta reads and edits, I’m looking to get started on my next project. I’d thought to start in on DOUBLE CROSS, book 1 of the Hard Target series. But then the characters from Penumbra sat down to have coffee with me. Sinjen explained how I need to write THE DEVIL’S CUT, the next book in the series. Caleb is itching (And no, it is NOT fleas so sh’up, human!) to have his story told, and even Nikos poked me in the back, all the while daring Sinjen to do something. Jeez. Sade just threw up her hands and demanded another cafe a lait. Seriously. These characters are driving me nuts. So…weigh in on the discussion. Which project should come next? I can’t guarantee to go with the general consensus but I’d love to hear your thoughts on the matter…
There are moments that define a person’s life. Marriages. Births. Deaths. World events. If we’re old enough, we remember where we were on November 22, 1963, when shots were fired in Dallas. I remember when the Berlin Wall was put up and when it was torn down. I remember when Iran took our embassy staff hostage, and when they returned home. Neil Diamond’s “They’re Coming to America” will forever define that moment for me.
April 3, 1974, my junior year at Centre College of Kentucky when an outbreak of supercell thunderstorms and tornadoes struck the region, all but devastating Brandenburg, Kentucky and Xenia, Ohio, with major damage in Louisville–places my classmates called home.
April 19, 1995. I worked part-time for Will Rogers World Airport Rescue/Fire Department, though I was off-duty that day. Just after 9:00 a.m. my Siberian husky, Micco, and my retired SAR Rottweiller, Babydoll, both turned to face the southeast, toward downtown Oklahoma City. Seconds later, the shock wave hit, rattling the heavy sliding glass patio doors and every window in the house. I thought it was a plane crash and immediately went into emergency mode, expecting my beeper to go off, even as I switched on local news. Five minutes later, I was in uniform, photographic gear in hand, in my car, and headed toward the massive column of black smoke billowing against the downtown skyline. I was notified enroute to report.
First reports suggested a natural gas explosion. Follow-ups mentioned a bomb. I drove into the scene as close as I could, parked out of the way, grabbed my gear and hiked in. There was no real command structure set up yet. It was 9:33 a.m. I did my job that day and the next and off and on for two weeks as I was needed. I shot rolls and rolls of film. Color. Black and white. Slides. Everything in my kit. I spoke to FBI agents, ATF agents, county deputies, city police, city fire.
I learned later that my father-in-law was scheduled to be in a meeting at the USDOT office in the Murrah building. The state’s transportation director stopped him as he was exiting the ODOT building to head downtown. They were still standing there talking when the bomb went off. His colleague, already present in the USDOT conference room, survived because he decided to sit on the side of the table that faced the windows. Everyone with their backs to the windows died that when part of the building was sheared off.
Even now, 20 years later conspiracy theories proliferate. I was there. I have my own theories and they don’t include cover ups by the FBI, CIA, White House, etc. etc. etc. ad nauseum. There are 197,000 hits on Google, with the search terms I used. Probably 196,900 of them detail these so-called conspiracies. Not even the wing-nuts can agree on one central theory. I know this because I was looking for a video to share, something that would give people an idea of what I saw that day. Yeah…never mind.
I, like so many others, have PTSD. I still did my joy, and continued to do my job both in the fire service, and then later in law enforcement. This doesn’t make me tough. It just means I’m determined. Most Aprils, now, I can pretty much ignore the day and go about my business. But the “big” anniversaries are a PITA. I don’t say this for sympathy. It is a fact of my life and I live with it, sometimes incorporating it into my characters as a way to “blow off steam.”
Once upon a time, I was the CISD (Critical Incident Stress Debrief) officer for my department. I sat and listened to my firefighters talk through their experiences. I took their memories to add to my own. Part of what the experts taught us back in those early days was to talk it out, or write about it. So this year, I needed to do just that. I don’t need to give a step-by-step timeline of that day. I need only say this:
On the east side of the memorial stands a wall with 9:02 etched into it. On the west side, stand a twin wall with 9:03 imprinted. Between the two–one minute, sixty seconds–lives a lifetime for 168 people, and countless more who’s existence was impacted by that moment in time. We never know when our personal April 19th will occur so take today to remind those you care about that you love them.
This video was made for the 15th anniversary by members of the congregation of a downtown church across the street to the southeast of the Murrah. It’s as close as I could come.
And by the way? I love you. Just sayin’….
Way back when, in the dark ages of my blogging career, something really cool happened. I posted the first Sunday Sinema, and yes, the misspelling was intentional because I intended to post YouTube videos of the romantic and sexy variety. It was very lonely around here and I pretty much blogged to myself. I was pre-published and looked to at least get my name out there in the intrawebz. The Plot Monkeys still had their blog back then and that’s where I met Liza and Ev and a few others. In fact, Liza was one of the first non-family visitors I had.
Julie Leto, one of the PMs, went “webbing” one day, clicking on the websites of commenters to the blog and she happened to land on my Sunday Sinema post. It was all about kissing–in fact it was like the top 25 or 50 top movie kisses and it was a game to recognize all the movies–many of which were classics. Julie mentioned this on the PM blog. I still credit her with pretty much launching my career here.
So, when looking for a video for today because normally I’m too lazy to, you know…THINK…by Friday, much less type words not only form sentences but make some semblance of sense, I came across this clip. I don’t really recognize the movies, but the scenes are intense and I found it put me in the mood for some of the interactions of my couples. I’ll remember this one. If you remember it too, you might someday read a scene in one of my books and think, Hmmm! So here’s to all the soul mates out there.
Happy Friday! Have a great weekend. I’m off to OKRWA tomorrow but I’ll likely be back here for a special edition on Sunday. You’ll understand why.
Last week’s Thursday’s Thoughts had to do with Universal Kismet and my thoughts on people coming into (or leaving) our lives. Janet mentioned irksome people and the lessons they are sent to teach. In my comment to her, I told her the Universe had something to say about that very subject. Janet, here’s the link, 😆 TROUBLESOME PEOPLE
As for today’s inspiration from the Universe, I’ve found this to be quite true when I’m stuck in a story. Case in point: NIGHT SHIFT. You know, the never-ending story. 😆 What stared as an anticipated 30K novella ended up a 55+K mid-length novel. I hope to be done with edits by the time y’all read this. But I digress. Sh’up. I know I ramble. 😛 I do have a point here. I needed a place for the book to end, and the right words. Finding them was the problem, so I walked away for a bit. When I got up the next morning and started writing…BAM! I knew what the ending was. It’s amazing–or not–how many times that happens. Apparently, the Universe agrees with me.
It’s not knowing what the answer or solution is, Silver, but simply knowing that there is one, which brings it forth.
Of course, you knew that –
~The UniverseThoughts become things… choose the good ones! ®
© http://www.tut.com ®Silver, it’s the same for abundance, kind of.
So what’s your solution?
It’s Hump Day! And that means it’s once again #1lineWed on Twitter. Today’s theme is all about the hook. You know what a hook is, right? That last sentence in a scene or chapter that makes the reader keep reading. Since I’m editing NIGHT SHIFT, guess what? Yup…a few hooks from the book. And maybe a bit of the snippet that goes with that hook, line, and sinker. 😉
Things have gone down, including an attempted kidnapping from a playground. Sam doesn’t like being told what to do and she takes on the Russian. Which makes Easy a little crazy, and his wolf down right insane. 😉
“I told you—”
This time he wrapped his hand around her throat cutting off the next word. “You tell me nothing and do as I say.” The Russian turned his head, fixed his gaze on me. “Easy.”I froze. Did he realize what my wolf had tried to do? I damn sure hoped my voice didn’t crack when I answered. “Yeah?”
“Take the Hummer and this one who is not a club whore. Get her things and come back here. Do you understand?”
Fuck. I’d just been sentenced to a road trip through hell.
Uhm…I can’t post the paragraph before this hook because…Let’s just say it’s down, dirty, and oh-so-sexy. Let me just say that Sam has a trick that made Easy howl and he returned the favor…
Until two guys kicked in the bedroom door.
Can we say black moment?
We talked until the stars no longer fell, until night turned to day, the gray fingers of dawn peeking over the horizon to chase shadows across the landscape. The fire burned down to embers, the snap and pop of the cooling coals breaking the silence stretching between us. She left without saying goodbye. I couldn’t leave what I was behind to go after her. Alone, I shifted, raised my muzzle and howled. I’d lost her, and no matter how many stars I wished on, she was gone.
And that’s the hook I’m leaving y’all on because I’m all evil like that. *bwahaha* Writers, any hooks to share? Readers, what’s your favorite thing about hooks?
Sound the trumpets! Bang the drums! I’m always excited when I start a new series and get to see the new direction the covers take. Here’s the cover for NIGHT SHIFT! If you click on the pic, you can see the full size. I don’t have a blurb yet. I don’t have a tag line. I just finished the first/rough draft yesterday afternoon. That said, Elijah “Easy” Cross has wormed his way into my heart. Samantha “Sam” Prescott, despite stepping on her poncho a time or two, is going to keep that Wolf on his toes.
I wanted to add another teaser because even for a rough draft? I’m pretty dang happy with this story. The problem is finding one that’s…well…basically safe for work. I don’t do the R/X thing here. Usually. This book? Oh, yeah. It’s definitely darker, grittier, sexier, and far more violent than anything y’all have read from me before. And it was freaking fun to write!!! 😀 Anyway, here’s a mostly clean version that–to me, at least–packs a lot of emotional wallop.
This is in Easy’s POV:
Awareness teased my bare skin. My whiskey-soaked brain attempted to process that whispered feeling, to make sense of what was happening. My nostrils flared at the scent tiptoeing in on the breeze. I’d left the window open and as my dick swelled and my balls ached I wished I’d closed the damn thing. That scent teased and tantalized, like phantom pains when a guy lost a limb. Honeysuckle and gunpowder—sweet and deadly. Sam.
She was back.
She had to be. I’d caught elusive hints of her scent for a couple of weeks now but nothing as strong as this. I heard voices out in the compound. Digger. Hardy. And fuckin’ A. Sam. Good thing I’d gone to bed still wearing my clothes, not that anyone around here would have cared if I was naked as a jaybird.
Knocking one of the whores on her ass, and taking down a brother with my shoulder, I careened through the club room into the kitchen. None of the old ladies were there. That was bad. Their mates didn’t allow them on property when there was punishment to be dealt. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sam. She’s all I could think about.
I smashed through the door and stumbled into the interior yard. Russki faced Digger and Hardy. Someone slumped between the two of them. I slid to a stop and Digger shoved Sam to her knees in front of me. Her scent scorched my nose. Honeysuckle, gunpowder, and ammonia so thick I couldn’t breathe.
“She’s been back at least two weeks, spying on Repo’s house.” Digger gritted the words out through his clenched jaw.
Two weeks. She’d been around for two weeks. Or longer. Those phantom scents weren’t figments of my brain. She’d been here the whole fucking time. Hiding from me.
As a side note, terror smells like ammonia to a Wolf. Emotions carry scent signatures. One of my favorites in this books is regret, which smells like ashes, dead roses, and almonds. I’ll have some memes with Easy and Sam before too long. And I’m editing like crazy today. The faster I get it to my critique partner and beta readers, the faster I get it back, revised, and to my editor for polishing. Still pushing for a release by the end of the month.
So…fun exercise today. Pick an emotion and figure out what it smells like. *waggles brows* Warning, I might just borrow your description. With mention in the acknowledgments, of course! OH! And like the Deadline Brain idiot I am, I totally forgot that I was guest blogging at the Pink Heart Society last Friday. Here’s the LINK TO THE POST. Come see my opinions on romance tropes!
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