Harmonious Madness

Massive Blog Giveaway

2012-01-26T07:02:00.000-06:00

The wait for Mistress of Malice and Mercy is almost over and it's time to celebrate.

I've already posted the link to the Goodreads giveaway of the paperback version of Daughter of Deception, but I wanted to do something for my faithful blog followers.
Leave a comment about your favorite thing about the series (if you haven't read the books, you can click on any of the tags at the end of this post to read some of the backstories) and be entered to win a paperback version along with an e-copy of The Chaos Child and be one of the first to get a copy of the Mistress of Malice and Mercy.

I'll pick two names at random to win the Family Lies bundle. Contest ends 2/30/12

Daughter of Deception Paperback Giveaway at Goodreads

2012-01-26T06:04:00.000-06:00

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Daughter of Deception

by Kara Thorpe

Giveaway ends February 29, 2012.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter to win

Date night with Duke and Viola

2012-01-14T23:25:00.002-06:00

From Mistress of Malice and Mercy

Sighing in disgust, Duke glanced out the window. He caught a glimpse of sand-colored fur and a short, bushy tail. “It’s a dog.”

“Dogs do not set off my radar. Not even Mrs. Pagillo’s nasty Jack Russell.” She stroked her big toe along his hairy calf. “Come on, it won’t hurt to take a look. Besides, you know ignoring your duty like this is just going to give you heartburn later.”

“It’s moving away from the parking lot. My FN is locked in the car.”

“I have a Glock 26 Gen4 and one of my birthday daggers.”

Duke’s eyes fell to the miniscule silver clutch on the edge of the table. “There is no way you have a Baby Glock in there. I have my doubts you even managed to fit a stick of gum in that thing.”

“Oh, it’s not in my purse.” A slow, satisfied smile spread across her face at the way his nostrils flared and his pupils dilated. His hand rose to signal the waitress. “If you’re a very good boy, I’ll show you later.”

“Good? I thought it was bad boys you had a thing for, sugar.”

Viola smiled apologetically at the waitress while Duke signed the credit slip for their appetizers and drinks. Once she was out of earshot, Vi hooked her fingers into the crook of Duke’s elbow. “I admit I have a Tracker fetish. All the more reason for you to move it, buster. Let’s see if your shoulder really is healed enough to stop using the sling.”

“Sweetness,” he sighed warningly, “you called Doc Luna and the therapist. They both told you that it was fine.”

“I’ll be watching you.” She tapped the side of her head. If she felt even the slightest twinge of pain from him, she was going to wrestle his arm back in to the sling.

Soldiers' Angels

2012-01-14T12:54:00.003-06:00

I enjoy volunteering. Helping people always gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling that can't be duplicated. The problem is that I don't always have time to help out when I want to, and I can't donate to every tv ad that makes me want to cry. Unfortunately, since the incident with the crazy cat a few years ago, I can't volunteer with my favorite pet rescue group either (do you know how weird it is to have a fear of strange cats when I love cats?).

I've found the perfect way to make an impact that fits in my time and money budgets. Soldiers' Angels. "May No Soldier Go Unloved" is their motto. Pretty damn simple but awesome, isn't it? From their website: Soldiers' Angels is a volunteer-led 501(c)(3) nonprofit with hundreds of thousands of volunteers providing aid and comfort to the men and women of the United States Army, Marines, Navy, Air Force, Coast Guard, veterans and their families (Tax ID# 20-058-3415).

You can sign up for the Letter Writing Team - you sign up for a certain number of names to get on your chosen days during the week and you write a deployed soldier a letter of encourgament or send them a thank you card. The idea is to let a soldier know he/she is appreciated by having their name called at mail call and receiving something that will hopefully brighten their day. If you want to do more, you can adopt a soldier. Letters once a week and a package filled with stuff from home and stuff they need. What better way to make a hero feel appreciated and loved?

There are plenty of other ways to help out. It won't break the bank and it won't take up all your time. Look for more information here.

What about you? What are your favorite ways to help out your community?

Happy New Year

2012-01-02T15:19:00.000-06:00

Happy, Happy New Year.

I am a resolution junkie. I suppose that goes with being a list junkie. I make a ton of resolutions every year. I work hard to keep them, too. At least for the first six weeks of the year.
This year my resolutions include:

** Read More
** Whine Less
** Finish MMM and Rocket Science
** Clean out my WIP file
** Organize desk at work
** Train the cats to feed themselves
** Train the husband to wash dishes

We'll see how many of those actually get done. I don't hold out much hope for the last three :)

What about you? Do you make resolutions? If you do, do you keep them? Are you a list maker?

Why MMM is taking so long

2011-12-12T20:34:00.001-06:00

She makes such a cute scapegoat

Mistress of Malice and Mercy snippet

2011-12-10T12:40:00.000-06:00

I know, I know... you'd rather I stopped teasing you and offered up the whole book, but it's not ready yet. This year has been crazier than I expected, but it's coming.

Here's a little to tide you over:

- - -
“Then I have to get ready for my date tonight.”

The rest of the world disappeared as Duke tumbled into the inviting heat of Viola's sultry smile. He propped a foot against the fence and cocked an eyebrow. “Date?”

“Yep. A very hot date with a very married man.” She giggled at his exaggerated gasp. With a little effort, she schooled her face into an expression of contrition. “I know it’s wrong, but I just can’t resist him. I’ve tried, sweet mercy I’ve tried.”

“So you decided to stop trying and just give in?”

“Why fight it anymore? It’s his eyes I think. The way they just penetrate right through to my very soul. Killer. Though it could be his hands. I’ve always been a sucker for strong, steady hands.” She swallowed back a bubble of laughter. From the pinched look on Duke’s face, it was clear he was doing the same. “Then again, it could be the…,” she froze, eyes wide and jaw slack. “Bee. Bee on his shoulder.”

Before Duke could react, she slipped out of his grasp and crept away from him on her tiptoes. “Whatever you do, don’t move or agitate it.”

“It’s just a bee, sugar.” Duke stared at the insect out of the corner of his eye. It was oblivious to the woman quietly freaking out only a few feet away. “You just faced down Elrachaim, but you can’t handle a little bee?”

“I’m not allergic to Elrachaim.” She bit her lip, shrugged. “Well, not in the way that makes me swell up like a parade balloon.”

Reading

2011-12-01T22:26:00.000-06:00

Hey y'all, popping in from under a stack of invoices and Mistress of Malice and Mercy notes for a little bit of advice.

I don’t read as much as I used to (or as much as I want to), but I always pick up a Lisa Kleypas book when I see one. Everyone knows I mostly stick to historicals, but she's one of my favorites in all sub-genres. Want to know why? See for yourself: here

--"I am one of "Lisa's Divas" - a group of select fans who share info & content related to Lisa's novels and get sneak peeks & swag in return."

Secrets, Lies, and Folks in Disguise

2011-11-06T19:50:00.000-06:00

Okay, so this is an oldie, but it's one of my favorite short stories. I hope you enjoy a light-hearted break from the Ashwood/Duke drama.

As always, I'd love to hear what you're thinking. Itching for more Duke? Dying to know what's up with Daddy Ashwood? Wondering about Rocket Science? Have a request for an Ashwood backstory?

- - -
Part One:

"Excuse me."

Robert Addison's spine stiffened. He tugged the brim of his black baseball cap lower over his eyes. Being an actor was great but the loss of privacy was killing him. All he'd wanted was to enjoy a beer in a bar before meeting his agent for dinner. Was five minutes of peace and quiet too much to ask for? Hopefully, if he ignored the fan and/or autograph-seeker, she would go away.

"Hey!" The sharp feminine voice barked from behind his right ear. Robert jumped when a finger jabbed him in the shoulder. "I'm talking to you."

He kept his shoulders hunched as he turned his head to glare at the woman. The fluorescent lights overhead emphasized the brightest, and angriest, pair of green eyes he'd ever seen. Aside from her striking eyes, the woman wasn't anything special: medium height, shoulder-length light-brown hair, and a slight build. Even her clothes, jeans and a faded Rolling Stones t-shirt, were average.

"What?" Robert relied on his years of training, and self-preservation, to pitch his voice an octave lower.

The woman arched an eyebrow at his gruff tone. She flattened a slender hand on top of the stool beside him. "In case you didn't notice, it's a little crowded in here. You're hogging two stools."

"What? So?"

The woman blinked rapidly. Pink lips thinned. "You've got your self-absorbed ass on one stool and your foot on another. I'm going to either take the one under your foot or I'm going to take the one under your ass. I'll let you pick."

Robert didn't doubt for a minute that the woman would make good on her threat. He hastily snatched his foot off the rungs of the stool on his right. The woman offered up a tight smile before she yanked the stool off the ground.

"Wait," he called when she was only an arm's length away. She stopped but didn't turn to face him. "Was that all you wanted?"

She pivoted on the heel of her worn running shoes. This time, both her eyebrows had disappeared up into her bangs. "Yeah. That's it. Thanks."

Robert found himself oddly disappointed. Was the woman not a fan? Had she not recognized him? He shook off the feeling, concentrated on being relieved. If she had recognized him, she would have led a gaggle of squealing girls to his side. He should be thankful for his anonymity.

Four hours later, dinner with his agent over, Robert returned to the hotel bar. He told himself that he was not looking for the rude, stool-grabbing woman. He just wanted a nightcap before heading up to his room.

The bar was as crowded as before. He pushed his way through the throng of people, hoping that his hat, scruffy beard, and bulky leather jacket would still be enough of a disguise. There was only one stool open in front of the bar. Robert didn't bother looking at the patrons on either side as he gratefully plopped onto the stool.

The person on his left shifted, placed a beer bottle on the bar. "Oh, it would be you."

Robert flinched at the familiar voice. Rude woman. Of course. "I promise to keep to my own stool."

"Good." The woman idly twirled her bottle. When the bartender glanced their way, she jerked her head towards Robert. "His next one's on me."

"What?" Robert tugged on his ear. He was certain he'd misheard her.

The woman rolled her eyes. "You say that an awful lot." She tapped the side of her beer to signal the bartender for another. After Robert hesitantly ordered his drink, she spun on her stool. A jolt of electricity shot through him when her knees bumped his. She used a white paper napkin to wipe the condensation off her hand before extending it for a hand shake. "Sorry 'bout earlier. Was a beast of a day. I'm Amy."

Mouth agape, Robert stared at the woman. Either she honestly had no idea who he was or she was one hell of an actress. Only one way to find out. He folded his long fingers around her hand. Her skin was warm and soft. He could feel small calluses on her palm. Few women he associated with had calluses. "R-er- Bobby."

Amy's smile, more genuine than anything she'd flashed him before, was hypnotizing. It started with the curve of her lips, put a hint of color in her smooth cheeks, and made her eyes sparkle. Robert had to tear himself away before he did something embarrassingly like drool or ask her for a date. He still couldn't be sure that she wasn't a rabid fan or member of the paparazzi.

He sipped his Scotch. Since someone else was paying for his drink, he hadn't ordered his usual smooth and expensive brand. The alcohol burned its way down his throat to his stomach. He tried to quietly clear his throat. Something must have given him away because when he turned back to Amy, she was chuckling softly.

"So, er, you had a rough day?" He had to take the attention off himself. It was the best way to avoid blowing his cover. Besides, he was curious about the woman who threatened to knock him off a stool and then bought him a drink to make up for it.

"Rough week, actually." Amy shrugged, sipped her beer. "'S'okay. We'll wrap things up tomorrow. Until trial time, of course."

Though it meant potentially opening the door to an awkward conversation, Robert couldn't help but ask what business she was in. She didn't look like a lawyer or a cop. Was she a paralegal?

"I'm a forensic engineer." At Robert's blank look, Amy sighed. She really had to find a better way to explain her job. "Accident reconstruction. Mostly vehicular accidents, but we've done a couple of plane crashes."

"And you work for the NYPD?"

"No. I work for a private company. We get called in by state or city governments and sometimes the feds. A lot of high-profile incidents, too. We pride ourselves on being unbiased and as unobtrusive as possible while maintaining our integrity." Amy broke off with an embarrassed chuckle. "Sorry, I sound like a commercial, don't I?"

"It's okay. I don't mind at all." It wasn't a lie. Robert was fascinated by the judicial system. Like most people, he loved the bevy of fictional and reality forensic shows on television. If he'd had the grades, and the focus, he liked to think he would have gone into a similar field.

When it looked like she was going to ask what he did for a living, he jumped in with, "what made you go into forensic engineering?"

Amy's eyes dropped to the scarred bar surface. She plucked at the label on her beer bottle. "When I was three, my grandmother was driving my oldest sister to a slumber party. They were in an accident. No survivors. Forensics wasn't what it is now. No one could explain why Grandma and my sister were dead."

"And you wanted to know. Have you used your expertise to dig into the case?"

"A bit. It upsets Mom, so I try to keep quiet about it. I don't understand it, but she's almost happier not knowing." Amy shook her head when the bartender gestured toward her beer. It was late and she had a mountain of paperwork to finish up in the morning. "You're a very good listener, Bobby."

Robert flushed at the compliment. After having people constantly pressing him to talk about himself, it was nice listening to someone else's life story. With all his worries about the tabloids and the fans, he'd forgotten that he genuinely liked people. He pressed her for details about her favorite investigation. Though most of the technical details went over his head, he enjoyed the animated way she spoke about her job and her co-workers. He wistfully remembered a time he’d felt that much passion for his work.

"Oh. My. Gawd!" A high-pitched squeal had everyone at the bar, except for Robert, spinning around. A tanned bottle-blonde teetering on spiky heels pressed a hand over her lips. She fanned her face with her other hand. As soon as she regained her composure, she headed straight for Robert and Amy.

Robert's heart sank. This was it. His cover was blown. Bobby, the guy who drank mid-priced Scotch and just talked with people, would soon be replaced by Robert the A-lister.

To his surprise, the woman completely ignored him. She clutched Amy's hands tightly. "I knew it! You're Lily Vaughn! You can’t fool me! The wig's awful and I hate your contacts, but I loved you in Love's Old Song. You are, like, my fave actress. Ever."

Amy wriggled her hands free. She shook her head regretfully. "I'm sorry, but you've got the wrong girl. My name's Amy Lampis. I'm not an actress."

The woman leaned forward so that her nose brushed Amy's. Her breath stank of vodka and, oddly enough, potato chips. "Are you sure?"

Amy bit her lip to hide her smile. "Absolutely positive."

"Oh." Face bright red, the woman slunk out of the bar and into the hotel lobby. Two women, equally tanned and blonde, wrapped their arms around her shoulders and led her to the elevators.

Once the chatter around them resumed, Amy gave into the laughter bubbling in her chest. Giddy with relief, Robert joined in. He playfully bumped Amy's shoulder with his own. "Lily Vaughn, huh?"

"I know!" Amy wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Her cheeks ached from smiling so much, and her ribs, sore from a fall she'd taken earlier that afternoon, throbbed, but she hadn't been this happy in weeks. "It's flattering, at least."

Robert studied his companion critically. He was willing to alter his original opinion of her. She wasn't one of the drop-dead gorgeous actress or models he worked with, but, with pink cheeks and laughing eyes, she was stunning. And real. He'd worked with Lily on two pictures and knew for a fact that Lily'd had her lips artificially plumped and her hair was not naturally platinum blonde. "Oh, for Lily Vaughn, definitely."

"You're so full of it!" Amy glanced down at her watch. It was after midnight. If she was going to get all her work done in time for her three o'clock flight, she had to be up at the crack of dawn. "I should go."

"Oh. Okay." Robert didn't want her to go. He didn't know if it was because he wasn't used to dates, did this count as a date, leaving him or because he really enjoyed Amy's company.

"It was really great talking with you. Thanks for letting me babble." Amy slung her purse strap over her shoulder. She impulsively leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "I'm glad I met you, Bobby."

"Pleasure was mine, Amy Lampis." Like the gentleman his mother raised him to be, he held out a hand to help her off the stool and held the door open for her. To his surprise, she stayed with him all the way to the bank of elevators. He thought for sure she'd stay in the lobby, but she stepped onto the elevator.

"Fifth floor, please."

"You're staying here?" Robert couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice. The boutique hotel was one of the most exclusive in the city. Accident reconstruction had to pay better than he expected. Was her client footing the bill for her stay?

"Yep. With a suite, my partner and I can stay together and use it as a temporary office. Saves the cost of two hotel rooms."

The way Amy's eyes wouldn't meet his had Robert believing there was more to the story but he wasn't going to press. He didn't want to ruin what had been a pleasant evening. "Will you be here in the morning?"

"Oh yeah. I'll be slaving away at my laptop long before the sun is up."

"Have breakfast with me." At Amy's arched eyebrow, Robert deflated somewhat. "I mean, will you please have breakfast with me? The restaurant here is great."

"Have you had the blueberry granola pancakes?" Amy's mouth watered at the memory. She'd had to add an extra half-hour to her daily workout thanks to the delicious food in the hotel's restaurant. If she didn't have to fit into a bridesmaid's dress in a matter of days, she wouldn't have worried about it.

"No. I'm more of a bacon and eggs guy myself." Fortunately he was six months from his next project and could afford to eat what he liked. His personal trainer would make him pay for it later, but he'd worry about it then.

"Seven-thirty okay with you?"

"What?" Robert tore himself out of horrific thoughts of all the lunges and cardio workouts he had to look forward to.

"You really need to find a new word. That one makes you sound like a moron." Amy smiled to take the sting out of her comment. "Is seven-thirty okay for breakfast? I know it's early, but I've got a ton to do before my flight."

"Where're you going?"

"Texas. My sister's wedding."

"How many sisters do you have?" Robert restrained himself from asking where in Texas she was going. He was headed to the Lone Star state for a wedding as well. Though it was highly unlikely they were attending the same wedding, it was a nice wish.

"I had three. Only two now. Both older. I'm the baby."

Robert grinned. "Spoiled rotten, too, I bet."

"Not in my family. There was no such thing as a favorite. We all pulled our weight and we were all treated equally." It was one of the things she loved most about her family. Despite all the pressures her parents and siblings were under, they remained close and as down-to-earth as possible.

"If they're anything like you, I'd love to meet them."

Amy dropped her chin to her chest and fought the giggle threatening to burst from her chest. "I'm sure they'd love to meet you, too."

Robert walked Amy to her door. On the way back to the elevator, he kicked himself for not kissing her goodnight. There was no guarantee she would really be there for breakfast. What if this was the last time he saw her? He should have asked her for her phone number or e-mail address.

Worried about being stood up, Robert was pacing outside the restaurant at quarter-to-seven. On his fifth circuit past the amused hostess, he ran, literally, into Amy. He grasped her forearms to keep her from falling to the floor. Her bare skin was damp with sweat and the tendrils of hair that had escaped her ponytail were matted to her forehead. He'd never seen a lovelier sight.

Finally steady on her feet, Amy pulled earbuds from her ears. "I'm so sorry! It's a book on tape. I get so caught up and I am such a spaz."

"It's okay. Really. Are you still hungry?" Robert mentally slapped himself for sounding like such a dork. He hadn't had to try this hard with a woman in years. He'd gotten used to being the pursued rather than the pursuer.

"Worried I was going to ditch you?" Amy teased. She sobered when Robert flinched. Had he really been afraid she was going to skip out on him? "Give me twenty minutes to shower and change. I'll be back in a flash."

"We can eat now. I don't mind."

"R-er-Bobby." Amy sucked in a calming breath. "I just spent an hour on the treadmill. My clothes are absolutely soaked. I stink. I am not doing anything until I have a shower."

Robert backed off quickly. That was the same tone she'd used when taking the stool last night. "Okay."

Amy bit her lip as she considered another option. It was an offer she never made, but she liked Bobby. Trusted him. "Or, I dunno, you could come up to my suite. My partner is sleeping the sleep of the dead and will be out for at least another hour and a half. We could order room service and eat up there."

A minute later, Robert was in the elevator beside Amy. He ordered the food then flipped through cable channels while she showered. He anticipated the wait to be longer than her estimated twenty minutes. The women he worked with never spent less than an hour getting ready. To his surprise, she emerged from her bedroom with five minutes to spare.

He wished breakfast could have lasted all day. Once again, he'd encouraged Amy to dominate the conversation by asking questions about her sisters. He heard humorous tales of three girls sharing a bathroom on family vacations and how they still gathered once a year to remember their late sister's birthday.

When it was time to go, he had a plane to catch and she had work to finish, he was reluctant to leave. He lingered at the door, asking for her phone number and e-mail address, for as long as possible. He made a show of slipping the plain white business card into his wallet. This time, he didn't forget the kiss. She tasted like blueberries, coffee, and syrup. Like forever.

Part Two:

"What's gotten into you, man?"

Robert glanced over at his close friend and fellow actor Nick Rudd. He understood the reason behind Nick's question. He'd had a silly grin on his face all day. Meeting Nick's future in-laws, the Vaughn's, had been a treat. Lily Vaughn was the typical nervous bride, but her younger sister and parents were refreshingly down-to-earth.

He even enjoyed being relatively isolated in the Vaughn compound on the Guadalupe River. The view was perfect and the water, though cool, looked inviting. As a bonus, the private road was guarded by a well-known security company.

"I met a girl." Robert's cheeks flushed as he made the admission.

"Oooh! Come here, Lil, and get a load of this. Our boy's met a girl."

Lily laughed at the deer-in-the-headlights expression on Robert's face. She slung an arm across his shoulders and pinched his pink cheek. "A girl like that Swedish model two weeks ago or a girl like that Australian pop singer last week?"

"Neither. She's... she's nobody."

"Robert!" Lily slapped his arm. She couldn't believe a friend of hers would say such a thing.

"I didn't mean it that way." Robert rubbed his stinging arm. For someone as delicate looking as Lily, she slapped pretty damn hard. He’d seen a news report about one of the three Vaughn sisters punching a notoriously pushy actor in the nose. Had it been Lily? "She's not in the biz. She's a forensic engineer."

Lily leaned around Robert's back to raise her eyebrow at Nick. Nick shrugged his shoulders. This was the first he'd heard of Robert's forensic engineer. He quickly tried to remember where Robert had been hiding out for a week and where...

"Her name's Amy. Amy Lampis," Robert continued, oblivious to the wordless conversation going on behind his back. "She's wonderful. Brilliant. Dry sense of humor, but I like it. Doesn't take any crap from anyone, either. She berated me in the middle of a bar for hogging an extra stool."

Lily forced a bright smile. The only thing keeping her from racing back into the house and grabbing her cell phone was knowing that the person she wanted to call was currently on a plane. "She sounds great, Robert. Is she a fan?"

"No! That's the best part about it. She has no idea who I am. I told her my name was Bobby." Robert blew out a heavy sigh. He missed Amy already. He should have asked her to be his date for the wedding. "You're taking this very well, Lily. I knew you and Rose were hoping I'd hit it off with your youngest sister."

"It's okay. Probably best this way. The old best man and maid of honor cliché never works out well. Trust me, I’ve been in those movies." She linked her arm with Robert and led him down the worn path to the water. She jerked her head towards the house, hoping Nick would get the hint and share the gossip with her sister Rose.

"Tell me more about Amy," she prompted.

"We were at the bar in the hotel and a woman walked in. She swore Amy was you. Poor girl was embarrassed." Robert chuckled at the memory.

"How did Amy take it?"

"She found it funny. Strange thing is, it seemed like she'd done that before." Robert paused to ponder that thought before dismissing it. It was a one-off. Amy just had more patience than most people.

"Oh, I'm sure," Lily muttered under her breath. She was definitely going to have a long, long talk with her sisters.

"You don't want to hear me go on and on about another woman, though. I know nothing about the bridesmaid I'm going to be teamed up with for the week. What's your sister like? I think I've only seen a few pictures of the three of you out in public." Robert congratulated himself on a smooth topic transition. He could go on for hours about Amy, which was amusing considering he'd only known her for a few hours, but didn't want to bore or offend his dear friend.

"She's made it a point to stay out of the papers as much as possible. Most of the mags forget about her. The Invisible Vaughn, she's been called. It's good for her, though. She never liked the spotlight." Lily stopped a few inches from the edge of the water. She slipped off her flip-flops, brushed off the concrete ledge, and sits with her feet in the cool river. She absolutely adored growing up near New Braunfels. She and her sisters used to run wild up and down the incline to the river. Afternoons and weekends were spent floating and soaking up the sun. She missed those lazy days so much it was a physical pain.

"What does she do, then?"

Lily waved a hand airily. "Something science-y. She's a nerd. Always was. Rose and I would be trying on Mom's make up while she'd be analyzing it with her junior chemistry set. Lissie liked to break things down."

Robert joined Lily on the ground but pulled his knees up to his chest. He didn't want to go through the hassle of pulling off his socks and shoes then rolling up the cuffs of his trousers. "Lissie, huh? I suppose your mother ran out of flower names."

"Oh no. No one was spared. Poppy, daughter of BellaDonna, gave birth to Dahlia, Lily, Rose, and Amaryllis." Lily laughed and tried to splash Robert. "It's a tradition that ends with my generation. The girls and I have vowed to give our children normal names."

The sound of the back door swinging open then slamming closed had Lily pulling her feet out of the water. She scooped up her sandals and rose to feet. "We should head back in. I need to iron out the final details for tomorrow afternoon with Nick before going in to pick up Lissie."

"Can I go? I flew into San Antonio. I've never been to Austin before."

"No!" Lily winced at her own vehemence. "I mean, no. Rose and I are going to go. We haven't seen Lissie in a couple of months and..."

"I get it. You want to spend time together. I think it's great that you three have stayed close. I know Rose's tour keeps her busy, and you've got the most amazingly busy shooting schedule I've ever seen." Robert thought of his own family and how rarely he saw them. He'd bought his parents a mansion, new cars, and anything else they desired but that didn't make up for never visiting.

"That's what you get when you've got a family full of entertainers and workaholics."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Lil. You're not a workaholic."

"I wasn't talking about me." Lily patted Robert's cheek before going off in search of her fiancé. She hoped he'd had a chance to speak with Rose.

Robert wandered through the dining room and into the kitchen. He liked the house's open floor plan. All the rooms flowed together and maintained a universal cheeriness. Not even a lack of family photos detracted from the warmth. He hoped his own house, whenever he decided to settle down, was just like it. It helped that he had an in with the 'designer to the stars' Poppy Vaughn.

"So, Roberto. I hear a slip of a girl in New York City has stolen your heart. Don't you know there's going to be thousands of heartbroken teenage girls?" Rose Vaughn popped her head around the open refrigerator door. A bottle of water in each hand, she kicked the door shut with her bare foot. She handed one bottle to Robert then perched on top of a padded stool.

"News travels fast in this family."

Rose's lower lip jutted out in a pout. "Not always true. Someone's been keeping secrets." Catching Robert's confused look, she dismissed it with a flick of her delicate wrist. "Never mind. Sister thing. You wouldn't understand."

Knowing she was probably right, Robert leaned back against the kitchen island and crossed his ankles. He'd heard of Rose, hard not to have heard of the former teen TV idol turned pop princess, before he'd met Lily. He was delighted to discover that, despite the media's portrayal of her, Rose was just as levelheaded as her older sister.

"Rose, you'll have to forgive me, but I've been dying to ask you -."

"Do I really go out to parties without panties on?" Rose chuckled at the fierce blush that darkened Robert's face. He really was too cute for words. "Hate to break it to you, but that was a doctored photo. My mom would kill me if I ever did that for real."

"Yes, I would," Poppy Vaughn agreed, amusement coloring her tone. She bestowed a warm smile on Robert as she lightly smacked the back of her daughter's head. "You'd better not forget that, young lady."

"Of course not, Mom. Is Lils done playing kissy-face with Nick? We've got to get a move on. You know how Lissie gets if she has to wait for too long." Rose twisted the cap back on her empty water bottle before tossing it in the recycle bin.

"Oh, Rose. She was ten when she did that. Your sister's matured since then."

"Not much," Rose snorted. She beamed at Robert. "When Lissie was ten, she spent a week with friends in D.C. She flew home by herself. We were fifteen minutes late picking her up, but she was nowhere in the airport. Dad practically had the place shut down. I think they were ready to call a state-wide manhunt."

"Did you find her?" Robert knew that David Vaughn, a wealthy fourth-generation real estate mogul and state politician, had the clout to pull off such a thing. He imagined he would do something similar if a child of his ever went missing.

"Yep. She was about two miles from the airport dragging her suitcase. She'd gotten tired of waiting and decided to walk the entire way home." Rose shot her mother a scowl. "She got ice cream afterwards."

"She was grounded for a week," Poppy protested.

"After you bought her ice cream."

"What're you two arguing about now?" Lily appeared in the doorway with Nick at her side. She was dressed in the same floral sundress from earlier but had slipped on a pair of high-heeled sandals and tied her hair back with a ribbon. Her soft, feminine appearance was a startling contrast to her sister's vamp-ish tight pleather pants and halter-top ensemble.

"Nothing. Geez, Lils. Mom and I don't always argue." Rose grinned impishly. "We were just telling Robert about the time Lissie tried to walk home from the airport."

"Oh! Everyone was so mad and she couldn't understand why. She just asked for ice cream because she was hot. You guys took her out for sundaes!" They joked about it now, but Lily could still remember that terror-filled hour. Her mother had been so sure that she was going to lose another daughter.

"See!" Rose laughed at her mother's indignant frown.

"That's enough girls. Go on and pick up Lissie. She's smart enough now to try hitchhiking rather than walking."

"Yes ma'am," both Vaughn girls chimed. They each dutifully kissed their mother's cheek.

"I know you're going to have a good time tonight, but please don't stay out too late. And call your father if you need a ride. The last thing I want to do tomorrow is bail any of you out of jail. I'd be tempted to leave you there. Please keep the embarrassing photos to a minimum. You girls get to fly off when this is over, but your father and I have to live here." Poppy watched her daughters nod in agreement before dashing out of the house while arguing over who got to drive and betting on which wig Lissie had chosen to wear for the evening. They'd grown up so fast. It seemed like only a few years ago she'd been baking cookies for bake sales and pitching a tent on Girl Scout camping trips. Where had the time gone?

Nick crossed the room and slapped his friend on the shoulder. "Come on, man. You and I have dinner reservations."

"But, I thought -." Robert glanced back and forth between Poppy and Nick. He'd assumed they were going to have dinner at the house. He'd actually looked forward to a big, boisterous family meal.

"Tomorrow night. Triple Trouble won't be in until late. Girls' night or something like that," Nick explained.

"Oh, Triple Trouble. I like that," Poppy commented. She was grateful that she had daughters who got along so well, but she could attribute every gray hair on her head to her girls.

"See you in the morning, Mrs. Vaughn." Robert grabbed the keys to his rental car off the hook near the door. Rose and Lily had undoubtedly taken the car Nick had rented.

"It's Poppy, please. You boys have fun!"

By the time Nick and Robert returned, the rental car was back but the lights were off. Robert slipped between the crisp sheets on his bed and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He'd worry about meeting Lissie Vaughn in the morning.

Robert woke to bright sunshine streaming through the window over the bed. He blinked, rubbed his aching eyes, and swung his feet to the floor. Pulling on a pair of drawstring pants, he stumbled out of the bedroom. Where had Lily said the bathroom was? Taking a guess, he pushed open the first half-open door he came to.

It wasn't a bathroom. The walls were painted a soft yellow color. A laminated periodic table was taped to the back of a closet door. A sleek laptop rested on a cherry desk. The queen-sized bed wasn't made. Clothes were strewn all over the floor.

"That's Lissie's room," Rose spoke up. She lightly grasped his shoulder and turned him around, pulled the door shut. "Bathroom's over there."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Lissie's down in the water, and I won't tell anyone. Dad bought doughnuts this morning. Grab one and some coffee then join us down by the river. Mom gave us most of the morning for fun time." Rose opened the bathroom door then, with a cheeky wave, thundered down the stairs.

Robert treated himself to a long, hot shower. He'd had a few more drinks than he should have. Nick had toasted everything from his upcoming wedding to his in-laws, to the color of the bartender's tie. Hair still damp, Robert dressed in red swim trunks and an old white t-shirt.

He stuffed two chocolate glazed doughnuts in his mouth before grabbing a third and a soda out of the refrigerator. On the countertop, the newspaper was folded so that a large color photo was prominently displayed. He instantly recognized two of the women in the picture. He assumed that the third woman, face turned away from the camera, with blonde hair a shade darker than Lily's platinum blonde and without Rose's red highlights was the infamous Lissie. A glance at the caption confirmed his suspicions. The Vaughn girls are back in town! Pop diva Rose teamed up with Oscar-nominee Lily and camera-shy Lissie for a bachelorette party to remember. Along Sixth Street, there's sure to be a trail of broken-hearted admirers and well-tipped waiters.

Chuckling to himself, he followed the chattering voices down the slight hill. Poppy and Rose were sprawled out in lawn chairs on the water's edge. Lily had her toes in the water. David and Nick were in the water facing the house. A thin woman with light-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail stood, wobbled, on an inner tube held in place by the two men.

Robert swallowed the sugary pastries clogging his suddenly-dry throat. Though last time he saw her she'd been wearing a conservative blue blouse and pinstriped pants, he recognized the woman in the denim cutoffs and pink bikini top.

The woman slowly, carefully, turned around to face Robert. A wide grin split her face. Green eyes twinkled merrily. She wriggled her fingers in greeting. "Hello, Bobby."

Part Three:

Robert blinked to clear his vision. When he looked back at the river, he still saw Amy Lampis, his favorite forensic engineer, standing on a tube surrounded by his best friend and the rest of the Vaughn family. What was she doing here? How had she figured out his identity?

Poppy, ever the peacemaker, swiftly rose to her feet. "Get off that tube before you break your fool neck, Amaryllis Clover Vaughn."

Amy gestured for her father to move out of the way. She shuffled towards the edge of the tube until her heels hung over the edge then fell backwards into the water. She popped up, sputtering and spitting water out of her mouth, on the other side of the tube.

"I'd introduce you to my Lissie, Robert, but I have a feeling the two of you have already met." Poppy grabbed a folded up chair and set it up for Robert. She hoped he'd take a seat and not rush off. From the anger clouding his face, though, it was a good bet that he'd be dashing off shortly. What had her youngest done this time?

"Bobby and I were staying at the same hotel in New York. We ran into each other my last night there." Amy dunked her head back under the water, came up grinning. "It was fate, I guess. Kismet."

"You don't believe in kismet. It’s not scientific enough for you," Rose pointed out drolly.

"Shut up, Rosey-posey."

"No, you shut up, Lissie."

"Why don't both of you shut up?" Lily shouted to be heard over her bickering siblings. What was it about a warm morning by the water that turned her sisters into screaming five-year-olds?

Rose arched an eyebrow at Amy. Amy nodded, smothering a grin. Before Lily could react, Rose leapt off her chair and shoved Lily forwards. Amy grabbed Lily's hands and yanked her sister into the water. Lily's outraged shrieks echoed off the stone cliff on the other side of the river.

"Good job, sis." Amy held a hand out so Rose could help her out of the river.

"Thank you, sis. You did your part beautifully." Rose handed Amy a folded beach towel. Once Amy had the towel wrapped around her shoulders, they stood side-by-side to face Lily. Teaming up on the oldest was still one of their favorite pastimes.

"I hate you both. A lot."

“Was that you in the picture from last night?” Robert blurted. Now that he was over his shock, he could see the similarities between the blonde woman in the newspaper picture and his brown-haired Amy. He could also see why she’d been mistaken for Lily Vaughn. The sisters had their mother’s nose and their father’s chin. He should have seen it before.

Amy’s eyes went wide. Rose shook her head furiously. Lily made shushing noises. Poppy quelled them all with a single glare that was a blend of disappointment and resignation. Her only consolation was knowing that Rose had been wearing pants and her girls hadn’t come home in the back of a police cruiser. Once was enough for any mother.

“Mom, it wasn’t that bad. I promise. It was only one photo. We behaved ourselves,” Amy did her best to reassure her mother. Turning her head, she smiled softly at Robert. “That was me. When I go out as Lissie Vaughn, I wear the blonde wig. Helps with the whole Vaughn Sisters celebutant thing. It also keeps people from hounding me when I want to stay under the radar. Most people don’t look at me twice when I’m just Amy.”

Ignoring the half-curious, half-chastising scowl her mother was giving her, Amy stood beside Robert. She reached for his hand but stopped before making contact. She didn't want to be rejected outright. "We should talk."

Robert nodded sharply. He followed Amy along the bank of the river. He waited until they were far enough from her family to speak. "You lied to me."

"I lied to you?" Of all the things Amy expected to hear from him, that wasn't one of them. So what if she hadn't explained the whole bit about his BFF marrying her sister? She'd been honest about everything else. He'd been the one to keep her completely in the dark about everything.

"Yes."

"When? When I was telling you all about the job I love? When I was telling you about my childhood and about my family?" Amy clenched her fists until her nails drew blood in her palms. "Tell me just when I lied to you, Bobby."

"You knew who I was."

"Well, yeah. I did." Amy shrugged, fought to control her anger. Yelling at Robert would just send him packing. "I didn't know you were staying there. I didn't follow you. Hell, when I first saw you in the bar, I didn't recognize you."

"But you did the second time around." Regret left a bitter taste in Robert's mouth. All his plans for a life with ordinary, normal Amy Lampis dissipated before his eyes. She hadn't been ignorant about his identity, she'd just been good at hiding it.

Amy rolled her eyes. He really was as moody as the papers made him out to be. "Yes. I figured you were incognito and thought it best keep my mouth shut." When all Robert did was grunt, she lost her grip on her patience. "Let's be honest, Bobby."

"Are you sure we should even bother at this point?"

Amy's lip curled back in a sneer. She pictured herself shoving Robert into the water. Hopefully it would cool him down. "If I'd given you any indication that I knew who you were, how fast would you have been out of there?"

That gave Robert pause. He had to admit that if Amy had shown any signs of recognizing him, he would have spent the rest of the night holed up in his room. "You never told me you were Lissie Vaughn. You introduced yourself as Amy Lampis."

"And you told me your name was Bobby." Amy squatted down to pick up a flat rock. With a deft flick of the wrist, she sent it skipping along the surface of the water. "Did you ever think that maybe I like my privacy, too? Before Rose and Lily made it big, we’d been famous because of Dad and Mom and then Dahlia’s accident. My sisters and I spent most of our childhood under the microscope. I changed my name when I graduated from high school. I wanted out of the spotlight. Amy Lampis could be anonymous. Lissie Vaughn could not."

When they reached the edge of the Vaughn property, Bobby dropped down to sit on the concrete ledge. He stretched out his long legs so that his feet hovered over the water. The hot sun felt good on his bare legs. Amy'd made several good points, and they'd stung. He can't say that he would have done much different if their situations had been reversed.

"I liked that you didn't know who I was. I liked thinking that we could just be a guy and a girl out on the town."

"Then quit acting and move to a remote village somewhere in the rain forest. Stop whining about it. Stop bitching. Just learn to deal!" Amy threw her hands up in disgust. “Do what the rest of us have learned to do: pretend it’s just another role you’re playing. Give the media something to print, and keep the parts you want private. Why do you think the three of us paint LA red sometimes? We’re just as happy having a quiet movie night, but if every now and then we let them publish a few photos of Rose dancing on a bar or Lily buzzed or me punching grabby Dahl Rosini in the face, we get left alone for the other nights.”

“And that works?”

“Has for us. You just have to separate it in your head. Kinda like Lily and Nick having the small family-only wedding here at the house this afternoon. That’s personal. That's the real wedding. Thursday’s church wedding with the four-hundred person guest list and dozens of photographers and expensive finger foods is the show for the public.”

“I just… want my life back.” Robert tugged at his earlobe. What Amy was saying made sense, but he didn’t know if he could do that. Should he have to hide who he was or live a double life? Why couldn’t people just leave him alone? Things were so much easier when he was making low-budget movies and only guest-starring on sitcoms.

"I've read a few of the interviews you've given. You make it sound like being famous is such a burden. You hate it. Listen up, you skinny, freckled, floppy-haired prima donna, there are plenty of people who have been more famous than you and lived somewhat well adjusted lives. Get over it or get out of the business."

"You don't understand."

This time Amy acted on her impulse to shove him into the water. One good push to the middle of his back sent him face-first into the river. "Oh yeah, I wouldn't know the first thing about fame."

Robert wiped the cold water out of his eyes. He stared up an indignant Amy in disbelief. "You shoved me in the water!"

"Damn skippy. Come on out of there and I'll do it again, you big whiny baby."

"No one's done that to me in years."

"Yeah. I can tell. You were overdue." Amy draped her towel across a tree limb before lowering herself into the river. She hissed out a sharp breath. No matter how many years she'd had to get used to it, that first icy touch of water always shocked her.

Robert studied the woman in front of him. Yes, she'd deliberately deceived him, but he was also guilty of lying by omission. She'd known his real identity but hadn't treated him any differently. In fact, she'd behaved around him the same way she behaved around her family. His 'star status' didn't impress her in the least, and she wasn't going to fawn all over him. Even knowing who he was, she'd shared large chunks of her life and her past with him. Did he really want to let her slip through his fingers just because he'd had his pride stung?

Making the decision only took a couple of seconds. He stuck out a hand. "Hi, my name is Robert Addison. You may have seen me in movies like Daughter of Deception and The Chaos Child. Perhaps you caught last summer's box office flop Just the Atmosphere. I'm an actor with privacy issues and an over inflated sense of paranoia. I've been called mercurial, diva-ish, and bland. Apparently I need help dealing with a sudden burst of unexpected fame. Would you like to have dinner with me one night?"

Amy shook his hand, a smile curving her lips. "Hello, Robert. I'm Amaryllis Vaughn, but I prefer Amy. My Dad owns most of Central Texas and has his eye on the governorship. My mom was a model when she was a teen but now it’s her designs that can be seen in magazines. I have a sister who is considered America’s latest sweetheart and another who sings bubblegum pop music so sugary it makes my teeth hurt. I spend my time investigating car accidents and am more familiar with the laws of physics than I am with fashion of any sort, but sometimes I have to play dress up and act like the stereotypical carefree rich girl for the tabloids."

"And?" Robert prompted.

Amy's brow furrowed. Was there something she'd forgotten? When Robert's hand started to go limp, she squeezed it tightly. Oh! "And, I'd love to have dinner with you."

Robert tugged her into his arms, swooped down for a celebratory kiss. There were no blueberries or syrup, but he could still taste forever on her tongue. Once the need for oxygen had him pulling back, he cocked his head at her. "What do you mean 'skinny, freckled, floppy-haired prima donna'?"

Halloween fluff with Duke & Viola

2011-10-31T12:51:00.000-05:00

Happy Halloween, y'all.
I have my devil horns headband, the tail that attaches to the back of my jeans, my black cat socks, and a big bowl full of Snickers. Tubular Bells and the theme from Psycho have been playing on my computer speakers all day. It's like Christmas round one. My co-workers don't necessarily share my enthusiasm (though they don't mind the candy or the pumpkin cupcakes).

Here's a little Duke and Viola backstory to celebrate the Wfsals' favorite holiday.

October 2001

The Ashwood house wasn't on his way home, but Duke veered off course just to check. He'd been stuck helping Sebastian and Viola clean up after the two little McClary bastards down the street had papered and shaving-creamed the entire house. If a five-minute detour meant he didn't have to waste an entire morning picking up soggy toilet paper, then he didn't mind in the least.

Of all the things he expected to see when he drove by the red, two storey house, the blazing porch light wasn't one of them. Sebastian had been bragging about his invitation to some fancy Halloween party for weeks. Olivia lived on the Rice campus and rarely returned to the house during the week. The littlest Ashwood hadn't said much about her plans, but he'd assumed she had a rave or party or séance penciled in her date book.

He parked his truck in the driveway, grabbed his leather jacket to fight off the early fall Canadian cold front, and jogged to the front door. A grinning skeleton pointed a bony finger at the doorbell. He rolled his eyes at Viola's obvious handiwork and rang the bell. A tone that reminded him of the Addams Family echoed from inside the house. He heard the slap of bare feet on a tile floor seconds before the door opened.

"Happy Hallo-- oh, it's you." The orange melamine bowl of Snickers and M&Ms was replaced by a cotton-candy pink frown and pale, wrinkled nose. Silver-lined hazel eyes studied him critically. "Nice costume. Almost didn't recognize you. Tracker was a good choice. I especially like the authentic Mokiis stench."

"What are you doing home, Shortcake? Would have thought you'd be out somewhere with the rest of your kind. Isn't this your national holiday or something?"

Pearly white fangs peeked out from under Viola's lips. "Bite me."

Duke took a step back to take in her short, pink skirt, matching t-shirt and the tiny pink flowers clipped in her short, dark hair. The light, pink-themed makeup and long, pink fingernails were something he expected to see on Olivia and not the normally Goth-centric Viola. "Vampire cheerleader?"

"Bunny the Brainless Vampire," she corrected with a fangy grin. She pulled the door all the way open and jerked her head inside in a wordless invitation. "You're scaring away all the trick-or-treaters."

"Seriously, what are you doing home?" Duke's eyes fell to her feet. Neither of her ankles looked swollen and the scratches that had covered her a week ago seemed to have faded. "Still sore after the Graca attack? Bas didn't say anything about you hurting."

Viola waved a hand dismissively. She let the door swing shut and led the way into the living room. "I'm fine. Spent four days in the training room and three days getting my ass chewed by Coach, but I'm fine. Bas grounded me, that' s all."

Duke arched an eyebrow. She'd never let a little thing like being grounded stop her from going out when she wanted. She was sneaky as a cat-burglar. He couldn't count the number of times he'd caught her slipping in or out of the house past her curfew.

Her grin broadened. "It suits my needs to be at home tonight."

"I don't even want to know." He sniffed the air as the mouthwatering aroma of freshly baked cookies wafted from the kitchen. His stomach grumbled. "Are those Granny's snickerdoodles?"

"Yup," she said, popping the p and bouncing on her toes. "She dropped 'em off this afternoon."

"What was she doing here?"

"A favor for me." The smug twinkle in her eyes made it more than clear she wasn't going to expand on the type of favor or the details of his grandmother's visit.

Two minutes later, Duke was in the Ashwood breakfast nook seated across from Viola with a plate of his grandmother's warm, buttery cookies between them and an ice cold glass of milk by his elbow. Every time the doorbell rang, she popped up like a sparkly, demented jack-in-the-box and he stole another cookie.

"So what are you in for this time?" he asked when she returned from yet another doorbell run. He brushed stray crumbs off his lip and half-empty nudged the plate towards her.

"Nothing, yet. Do you know how utterly unfair it is to have a psychic as your guardian?"

Duke chuckled. He did, in fact, know what she meant. His future-seeing grandmother had often punished him for transgressions he hadn't committed. "What'd the wonder weenie see?"

"A's girlfriend is going to dump him in the quad next week. She's been seeing Frankie behind A's back. For weeks. Apparently, I'm going to kick Miranda's ass in the parking lot after track practice."

"Sounds like something you'd do, Via-mia." If this Miranda really was cheating on the nice but freaky dude with the Mohawk, Duke felt sorry for her. He'd watched a nine-year-old Viola verbally emasculate a boy who'd slighted her sister. The girl who’d broken up with Sebastian in college had wound up with slashed tires and a car filled with creepy clown statues.

"Yeah. 'Cept now Miss Miranda and I are going to have a long talk after school tomorrow. I'm not going to wait for her to humiliate A in front of the entire senior class."

"Grounding you didn't do much good, did it?"

"Nope. But double jeopardy means I can't get grounded twice for the same ass kicking. Captain Justice can’t argue against that, can he?"

They shared a laugh. Had Duke been in Sebastian's shoes, he would have kept the details of the vision to himself and punished Viola after she got in trouble. Sebastian still didn't understand how his baby sister's devious mind worked. He kept trying to treat her like she was a carbon copy of himself or Olivia.

Just as they were set to battle over the last cookie, the sound of a bell chiming came from the vicinity of Viola's waist. Small fingers wriggled under the waistband of her skirt and retrieved a small, rectangular box. She shushed Duke with a glare and waited for the bell to chime a second time.

With a manic, gleeful grin, she pressed the button with her thumb. Twin howls filled the air. Duke dashed to the front window. Viola followed at a more sedate pace. Two soaked sheet-clad figures raced off the Ashwood lawn in the direction of the McClary house. Clumps of sodden toilet paper trailed behind them like breadcrumbs.

"Granny warded the yard and I grabbed the remote for the sprinklers." She bumped his hip with hers and dangled the remote under his nose. "Told you I had a good reason for staying home. Wanna make fun of that Ghost Gabbers Halloween special?"

Mistress of Mercy and Malice preview

2011-10-02T22:16:00.000-05:00

Do you know how hard it is to write with a cat in your lap? Especially one who digs her little claws into your leg if you stop petting her for too long? I am busy finishing up Mistress of Malice and Mercy as well as Sometimes it is Rocket Science inbetween work headaches and actual headaches (who knew a toothache could be so bad??)

Now for what you really came here for: a MMM preview

- - -

Six of Bert’s bullets bounced off the demon’s scaled chest. One ricocheting bullet narrowly missed Viola’s thigh. The streetlamp and telephone pole weren’t as lucky. Struggling to resist the temptation of Viola’s black energy, Duke covered the older man while Bert reloaded. He aimed his gun between the Aspisia’s eyes, but the demon’s yellow gaze was locked on Viola’s scarred arm. He took advantage of its distraction and slipped inside its mind.

“It wants to rip you apart because you killed its mate,” he said once he translated the demon’s thoughts. He slowly inched towards Viola careful not to make too much noise or move too swiftly.

Viola tilted her head. She recalled setting ablaze several Folists. “I’m familiar with the feeling.”

“It’s torn between tearing off your head and taking you to Elrachaim. Right now its fear of Elrachaim is trumping its need for vengeance.” Duke eased out of the Aspisia’s mind. He glanced down at Viola’s discarded knife. The mustard-yellow blood dried onto the blade would be nearly impossible to clean off. “How’d you kill the male, Vi?”

“Slit its throat from ear to little ear.”

Duke grimaced. There was no way he was letting her get that close to the female. He struggled to remember the best way to kill a fully-grown female Aspisia. There was a weak spot, but since they rarely ventured out into heavily populated areas he couldn’t…

“Under the chin!” Bert called out from the other side of Viola.

Duke fired first. Three bullets pierced the thin, pale blue skin beneath the demon’s chin. Two of the bullets exited through the top of the demon’s skull. The third took out the Aspisia’s left eye. Brain matter and bone fragments splattered across sedan parked behind the demon. Duke ducked to avoid the stream of thick, yellow blood. It smelled worse than the venom and would make him break out into a rash if it touched his skin.

Drenched in Aspisia blood and skin, Viola jogged to the downed demon’s side with her gun in hand. She checked for signs of life, but the Aspisia was dead. With a sigh, she holstered her gun. She shook her head the same way Finn did after a bath. Yellow liquid splashed Duke’s shirt.

“Thanks, sweetness.”

She opened her mouth to apologize, but snapped her jaw shut when she got a good look at her grinning, almost completely dry husband. “How is it I’m soaked and you don’t have a drop on you?”

“Better reflexes?”

Her left eye twitched at the jab. There was no way his reflexes could be better than hers. She eyed him coolly before breaking out in a beaming smile. Arms flung open, she stalked towards him. “Aw honey, you killed the big, bad demon for me. Let me show my… appreciation.”

He didn’t trust her sugary tone of voice or the mischievous glint in her hazel eyes. As soon as he picked the word ‘hug’ out of her jumbled thoughts, he hastily backed towards Bert. The other man’s dry chuckle implied Duke would get no help from that corner.

“Lady Viola!” Pip’s high, clear voice cut through Viola’s laughter and Bert’s chuckles.

“Saved by the munchkins,” Viola said, stopping an arms’ length from Duke. “This time.”

“Phew,” Pip moaned, waving a hand under his nose. He and his brothers had returned to their normal size but regretted the action. In their natural state, their senses were more sensitive than when they were transformed. “That’s nasty, Lady Viola! It’s worse than Finn farts!”

Duke scooped the three Wfsals off the ground and settled them on his shoulders. He fished his cell phone out of his pocket. Even with his truck and Bert’s, there was no way they could haul two Aspisia corpses and two blood-drenched Trackers. Calling in a team to pick up the second corpse took less than a minute.

“Nicholls and Spitzer are on their way. Spitzer’ll take the female to the work shed. Spitzer will drive Bert’s truck with the male to the house, too.” He braced himself for the explosion his next statement was sure to cause. “I’ll drive you two to the nearest car wash for a quick rinse before we head home. I’ve got a few towels and a bottle of shampoo left over from the last time I had to give Finn a bath.”

Rather than jumping all over him like he’d expected, Viola shrugged and scrubbed at the thin layer of blood dried on her cheeks. “Is it that rosemary flea stuff or the mint shampoo Granny made?”

“Mint, I think.”

She shrugged again. “Works for me. The flea shampoo makes me itch.” She narrowed her eyes at Duke as she remembered the last time he’d taken her to the car wash to clean up after a demon attack. “I’m controlling the hose this time, Tobias.”

“Spoilsport.”

“You nearly peeled my skin off last time!”

“Oh? Now who’s exaggerating, sugar?”

Viola stomped towards Duke, lifted the hem of her wet shirt, and pointed to thin, pink line parallel to her navel. “That’s where I hit the muffler of your damn truck when I fell because you hit me so damn hard with the water.”

“Oh no, sweetness. I’m not taking the blame for that one. You slipped because you refused to take off those ridiculous boots and then you insisted on prancing around like an idiot. You’re lucky you didn’t break your neck.”

“Some days I’d like to break yours.”

“And I’d like to see you try.”

“Children!” Bert grasped the squabbling couple by the elbows and dragged them towards the cars. Abelardo owed him at least a case of beer for forcing him to take on the Dukes by himself. A rotation with a coughing, phlegmy partner would have been a less irritating experience.

“Sorry, Bert.” Viola craned her neck to stick her tongue at Duke behind Bert’s back. “We get a little carried away sometimes.”

Bert grunted in agreement. He supposed it could have been worse. They could have been an overly affectionate couple. He’d rather listen to a quarrel than watch the mating habits of adrenaline-hyped Trackers.

“Karma will get you both,” he said. “Good Lord willing, y’all will have a passel of kids to drive you up the wall like you’ve done to the rest of us.”

Duke/Viola - Spring 2001

2011-09-05T20:48:00.000-05:00

Spring 2001

Muscles tense and right palm curled around the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans, Tobias Duke ran his left thumb along the front door’s deadbolt. Tiny scratches in the silver finish made it clear that someone had picked his lock. Recently. The wards his grandmother updated quarterly were still intact, so the intruder was human. He reluctantly took his hand off the gun.

Slowly and silently, he unlocked the door. He pushed open the door and crept inside the foyer. The lights were off downstairs. He started towards the safe kept in his office when the sound of running water over his head stopped him in his tracks. Someone had broken into his house to take a shower?

A long, black ribbon curled around the banister caught his attention. He pinched the ribbon between two blue goo stained fingers and held it up. Tiny white skulls dotted the wide ribbon. His jaw tightened as the faint hint of rosemary and sweat.

When he was on rotation, he tended to keep his mental barriers up. The last thing he needed was to be distracted by foreign thoughts when tracking a demon. In the safety of his home, he let his barriers slip and concentrated on the showering intruder. He caught a glimpse of familiar chaos before a wall slammed up between his mind and the intruder’s.

Feminine laughter echoed in his head. “Stay out, you big perv or I’m gonna tell Granny.”

“Viola,” he growled, taking the stairs two at a time. The upstairs guest bath was empty. He rolled his eyes at his own naiveté. Why would Viola bother to use a guest bathroom when his was free?

His bedroom light was off, but the lights in his bathroom were on. He dropped his Tracking pack on the floor beside his bed and stalked to the bathroom doorway. The shower curtain was pulled to one side and two damp towels were piled on top of the closed toilet lid. The back of a purple tank top and a dark auburn ponytail greeted him.

“You’re home early,” Viola observed mildly, not bothering to turn around.

“What are you doing, Vi?” Duke folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorjamb. He winced when the door hinge dug into the fresh bruise on his right shoulder. The thought of a hot, steamy shower had kept him going for the last hour of a rough rotation. He wanted nothing more than to pick up Viola by her ponytail and toss her out of his bathroom.

“Cleaning up. I was with Max when the call came in about the four Irgins in the Heights. Since you and Bas were busy with the demons in Conroe, Max and Vic went after the Irgins. Max thought it would be good training for me so I tagged along.” There was a pause as Viola splashed water onto her legs and rinsed her soapy hands. “Man, no one said anything about how foul Irgins are. I don’t think Max is ever going to get the stench out of his truck. I offered to set it on fire for him so he could get a new one, but all that got me was a ten-minute lecture on insurance fraud.”

Duke mentally counted to thirty. It did nothing to soothe his mounting anger. “Viola,” he snapped, “what are you doing here?”

“Cleaning.” She bit her tongue to stop the duh that wanted to follow. Regardless of what her brother and sister thought, she did have a few self-protective instincts. She swiveled her shoulders, careful to keep her face out of view, and pointed at the tattered tights near Duke’s boots. “Turns out I’m not as fast as I’d like to think I am. The cuts are shallow, but the blood was sticking to my tights and it was driving me crazy.”

Duke inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. He reminded himself that his grandmother was inordinately, unexplainably fond of the littlest Ashwood and would slap him silly if he wrung the girl’s neck. He had only himself to blame for his frustration, anyway. He’d forgotten that one had to be very, very specific when dealing with Viola.

“What. Are. You. Doing. In. My. Bathroom?”

“Oh!” Viola chuckled, reached for one of the towels. She spun around and dried her pale legs. Streaks of red criss-crossed her shins. She ducked her head down, refused to meet Duke’s furious stare. “Well, Bas doesn’t ‘xactly know about my little trip with Max and judging by the radio chatter I heard, tonight’s not a good night to tell him.”

“Viola.”

“Sooo,” she bit her lip and flashed him a quick grin, “I couldn’t go home. I thought I’d pop in here real quick to clean up and then head out to the rave on Scott.”

“Viola!”

She coughed. “I mean the study session at Aaron’s. Study party. Promise. Do you have a pair of black socks I can borrow? My boots are downstairs.”

Duke pivoted sharply, stomped into his bedroom. He yanked open a drawer, retrieved a pair of black socks, and tossed them at Viola’s head. “Out, Shortcake.”

“No problemo. Just give me a sec to clean up.”

“I’ll clean up.” Duke’s eyes narrowed suspiciously when she started folding one of the towels. He recognized a stall tactic when he saw one. “Now, Vi.’

She winced at his sharp tone. “Okay. Okay. No need to bite my head off.” She dropped the towel, grabbed her ripped tights, and tugged down the hem of her black-and-silver skirt. “See ya, Tobias.”

Lips pursed, Duke’s arm shot out to block the doorway when she started to brush past him with her face firmly pointed towards her pale toes. “Hold up, kiddo.”

She blew out a heavy sigh. “Talk about bipolar. Stay or go. Which is it?”

“Look at me.”

“Uhh… no. I’m not feeding your ego tonight.”

“Look at me, Viola.”

“No.”

Duke grasped her chin between to fingers and forced her face up. The entire right side of her face was red and swollen. Her lip was split and the bruise had already started to turn purple. “A little slow, huh?”

“Okay, way slow.” Viola shrugged. “I shouldn’t have had that second burger for dinner. Or the shake.”

“How were you going to explain that shiner to Bas?”

“Raves are dangerous. He’d have been pissed and grounded me, but he wouldn’t have banned me from Tracking.”

Duke released Viola’s face. He silently kissed his plans for an early night goodbye. “You need to ice that or your eye will swell shut. Go downstairs and put an ice pack on that. Don’t leave.”

Viola knew better than to challenge the angry glint in his eyes. Duke was one of the few people capable of tracking her when she tried to disappear. She nodded, slipped past him and scurried to the hallway. “Want me to make you a sandwich or anything?”

“Just get the ice and park your ass on the couch. I’ll be down in a minute. We’ll watch SportsCenter and then I’ll have a look at your legs. They should be disinfected. I’m too tired to drive you home, and I don’t trust you with my truck. You can crash here tonight.”

“Thanks, Tobias. You’re the best.” Viola beamed at Duke before skipping to the stairs. The smile slid from her face when his next words reached her.

“First thing in the morning, I’ll call Sebastian to pick you up.”

Sometimes it is Rocket Science snippet

2011-09-05T16:14:00.000-05:00

I know, I know. Mistress of Malice and Mercy is what everyone is waiting for, but I've been working like a fiend on Sometimes it is Rocket Science, and I do hope that y'all love this project as much as I do.

Here's a snippet from a mid-book chapter:

“Is Ken sleeping?”

Georgiana whirled around with a hand pressed to the fluttering pulse in her neck. She hadn’t heard Robert’s approach. “Jesus,” she panted, “I’m going to put a bell on you.”

“I’ll leave the collar to the four-legged residents, if it’s all the same to you.” Robert stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and leaned against the doorjamb across from Georgiana.

“I was thinking more along the line of elf shoes.” Her lips twitched. Her eyes fell to his bare feet. “You know, the pointed, floppy ones with the big bells on the curled ends?”

“Perhaps you should get some sleep, Georgiana.”

“Can’t. Things to do.” Georgiana scrubbed at her gritty eyes and rolled her tense shoulders. “Monday and Tuesday I’m booked up with meetings. I need to discuss Hayes with the board. I haven’t looked over Ken’s physics project like I promised. Dan’s coming home soon, and I want to make sure everything’s perfect for him.”

“You need to take a break before you burn out.” Robert crossed the width of the hallway with one step. He cradled her jaw with a warm hand and brushed his thumb across the dark shadows under her eyes. “You won’t do Ken or Dan any good if you make yourself sick. Besides, a fresh mind will allow you to see things with a new perspective.”

Her eyelids drifted closed. She instinctively leaned towards his warmth. The spicy tang of his possibly-pheromone laden aftershave wrapped around her like a thick, downy comforter.

“Take a break with me, doll.” Robert’s voice dropped in pitch and lost the smooth veneer of refinement. The gravelly tone with its slight twang was the voice she remembered from their childhood. “Relax a little. Unwind. I’ll open a bottle of wine. We’ll watch a movie or one of those science shows you set NORA up to record. Whatever you want.”

“Mmm.” The tension built up at the back of Georgiana’s neck and across her shoulders melted like butter in a hot frying pan. Her palms itched with the need to pull him closer and bury herself in his arms. It was easy to understand why he never lacked for female companions.

“What do you say?”

“I say…” Georgiana reluctantly slipped out of Robert’s light embrace and inhaled sharply to clear her muddled head. “I say I need a small glass of Baileys and a slice of chocolate cheesecake.” When Robert’s face fell, she sighed and linked her fingers with his. “There’s enough for two.”

“Thanks, doll.”

In the kitchen, she filled two glasses with ice while Robert retrieved the Irish cream from the wet bar in the formal living room. Rather than divvy up the cheesecake and dirty plates, she left the quarter cheesecake on its plate and handed Robert a fork. The cool, sweet Irish cream was perfect with the firm, decadent chocolate cheesecake.

“Not usually how you spend a Saturday night, huh?” Georgiana dragged a forkful of cheesecake through a puddle of chocolate sauce. She hooked a foot under the rungs of her barstool and scooted closer to Robert. She spun the tablet computer near his elbow around and pressed the button to turn it on.

“It’s no charity gala or champagne-soaked soiree, but it has its perks.” Robert winked, popped a piece of crust in his mouth. His toes slowly brushed across the sole of her left foot. “Especially when it comes to the company.”

- - -
Hope y'all have a great (short!) workweek!

Football party snack

2011-09-03T12:34:00.001-05:00

2 parts herb & garlic goat cheese + 1 part cream cheese (both softened) blended & piped in celery stalks = yum. Now I won't feel so guilty for eating a bowl (or two) of chips!

Skinny Cow Perfect Cup Event 8/6/11

2011-08-10T13:36:00.001-05:00

Literally: the cat is in the bag!

2011-08-05T17:44:00.001-05:00

Mistress of Malice of Mercy teaser

2011-07-30T20:31:00.000-05:00

Viola snatched the sleeping bag out of his hands and tossed it on the couch. “I’ve had my Goth Gabby sleeping bag since I was fourteen. There is nothing wrong with Goth Gabby.”

“She’s creepy,” Sebastian said, panting and sweat-soaked. He dropped a handful of bags onto the floor by Viola’s feet and collapsed on the recliner. “It’s those big, black eyes. I hated the posters you used to have in your room.”

“Big baby.” She stuck her hand in the nearest bag and pulled out a package of rapid-dissolving toilet paper. Her eyebrows disappeared under her bangs. “Really? Seriously, Tobias? That’s it. You are not allowed to shop when you’ve been drinking. I’m instructing Wiff to confiscate your wallet next time.”

Duke's cheeks turned a bright pink. He wished his father were around to offer up an explanation. “Just in case there’s poison ivy or something like it in Wylan.”

She leaned across the canyon of purchases between them and pressed her lips to his scratchy cheek. “Aww, that’s very sweet, honey.”

Buoyed by her kiss, he wrapped his good arm around her waist and hauled her onto his lap. “Well, you’ve got delicate skin, skin I happen to be very fond of, and I’d hate for something to happen to it while I’m not there to care for it.”

Sebastian gagged. “I think I liked it better when you two were fighting. Ow!” He rubbed the side of his head and tossed the throw pillow back at his grinning sister. “I like the pink water bottle best. You’ll look like a pretty, pretty princess, sis.”

“Hey!” Wiff scaled Sebastian’s leg and poked him in the belly button. “I picked that out.”

“And it’s lovely,” Viola declared, glaring her brother into submission. “I’ll think of you every time I use it, Wiff.”

“So does that mean you’ll think of Duke every time you use the toilet paper?”

Soundtrack Tuesday - Both Sides Are Even

2011-07-26T06:03:00.000-05:00

Good Tuesday morning! I hope everyone recovered from the weekend.
This next song fits in with the third book. Without wanting to give away too many spoilers, here it is:

Both Sides Are Even from The Boxer Rebellion.

Later this week, I'll post another snippet from Mistress of Malice and Mercy. Progress has been great on Somtimes it is Rocket Science, too.

Here's hoping it's another great week (heat index be damned!).

Mistress of Malice and Mercy previews

2011-07-17T17:56:00.000-05:00

It's Sunday. It may mean the end of the weekend and time to get ready for work again, but fortunately it's meant a day of writing. To celebrate, I'm offering up two previews of Mistress of Malice and Mercy.

Now, I've already mentioned that we'll see Duke's mother. And you thought Viola had the only dyfunctional family in the series...

There was an unfamiliar car parked in his driveway. Duke motioned for Wiff to crawl into his front pocket. The wards around the house hadn’t gone off, so the uninvited guest wasn’t a demon or a person with malicious intent. The small, nondescript sedan was empty. He took note of the sticker on the back bumper. The car was a rental.

After parking the truck, Duke dropped the tailgate and managed to get Finn onto the ground without tearing his stitches or injuring the dog. Duke’s hand inched around so that it rested on his FN Five-Seven USG. Rather than race towards the house, Finn remained pressed against Duke’s legs. When they neared the porch, Finn’s lips curled back to reveal sharp, white teeth. He growled warningly at the figure in red reclining on one of the wrought iron chairs.

The tension slipped off Duke’s shoulders. His hand fell away from the gun. The intruder was going to ruin the rest of his day, but she wasn’t going to hurt anyone. He sent a quick alert to Viola letting her know that he was going to have to skip their lunch. When Finn tensed, he patted the dog’s head. “It’s okay, boy.”

Finn growled again. He lifted his large head and snapped his teeth at the blonde, middle-aged woman. Duke huffed, swatted Finn’s ears. “That’s enough. You really are Vi’s mutt, aren’t you?”

Finn sat on Duke’s foot to prevent him from moving any further.

“I didn’t know you had a dog, Toby,” the woman on the porch said. She gracefully rose and walked to the edge of the first porch step. She curled her hands around the painted beam and leaned against it.

In the attic was a picture of the woman in a similar pose. The artist, a local talent who’d done the painting as a birthday present, had captured the blonde’s soft facial structure and ivory skin. Dressed in a flowing, butter-yellow sundress, she looked like the goddess of the dawn caught in a moment of quiet reflection. Paul Duke consigned the painting to a dusty corner of the attic the same day his wife of thirteen years presented him with divorce papers.

“What are you doing here, Mom?”

- - -
And this one takes place a little later. I just love Duke and Viola.
- - -

The pressure and anxiety that had settled on Viola’s shoulders dissolved like fog in the sun when she saw Duke waiting on the steps of his grandmother’s front porch. As soon as the car rolled to a stop, she flung open the door and raced up the driveway. Duke stood up, opened his arms in invitation, and braced for impact.

“No, no, that’s okay, Vi. I’ll get the door. It’s not like I’m going to have my hands full or anything.” Sebastian avoided the sight of his friend and baby sister making out like teenagers under the bleachers after a football game. He didn’t want to ruin his appetite for Aggie Duke’s gumbo. After kicking shut the door Viola had left open in her haste to greet Duke, he grabbed the two boxes of chocolate meringue pie from the backseat.

He deliberately bumped Duke’s shoulder as he passed the kissing couple on the way up the stairs. Neither broke for air. “If you’re not inside in two minutes, I’m going to get the garden hose,” he said. Viola stopped holding the back of Duke’s head long enough to flip Sebastian off; Duke did the same with the hand that had been gripping his wife’s hip. Sebastian rolled his eyes and stalked into the house.

At the slamming of the screen door, Duke unglued his lips from Viola’s. “Wait…,” he panted, glancing around for Sebastian. He’d been on the porch watching for them for a reason. Not that getting to enthusiastically greet his wife wasn’t good enough motivation all on its own.

“What? Why?” Viola scraped her short nails across his skull, tugged on his left earlobe when he didn’t immediately turn back to her. She unwound her legs from around his waist and dropped lightly to the ground.

“Never mind, I can’t remember.” Duke dipped his head to kiss the sharp jut of Viola’s collarbone. The unexpected tickle of soft, short hair thwarted his plans to kiss every inch of skin exposed by her v-neck shirt. He ran the tip of a finger from the point of her chin to her navel. It was a good thing he wasn’t allergic to cats, demonic or otherwise.

“Sugar…”

Her arms tightened around his neck. The gravelly way he murmured endearments weakened her knees and set her blood on fire in the most delicious ways. “Yeah, Tobias?”

“You’re covered in Chaisan hair.”

Viola glanced down at her shirt. She hadn’t noticed the white and brown fur stuck to the front of her gray shirt. No wonder Tom had been reluctant to hug her when she’d left Burkeholt.

“One of the little monsters took one of my bracelets. I had to get it back.” She held her wrist up and flicked at the small charms dangling from the sturdy silver chain. The ghost-themed bracelet had been a graduation present from her Network mentor. “After wrestling with Finn for over a year, it was like taking candy from a baby.”

Duke tucked a wisp of dark hair behind her ear. Catching something off in the symmetry his mother had pointed out earlier, he took a small step back to get perspective. It only took a second to pinpoint the source of the imbalance. She had two holes in each ear but only three earrings. “You’re missing one of your hoops.”

Her hand flew to her ear. She’d worn cheaper earrings because of the Chaisans, but having been so easily duped still rankled. She slumped forward and thumped her head against Duke’s shoulder. “I hate cats.”

Nap time

2011-07-07T17:51:00.001-05:00

Sometimes it is Rocket Science snippet 2

2011-07-06T11:16:00.000-05:00

I hope everyone had a wonderful weekend. It was hot here, of course, but we made it through just fine. I dragged JT to garage sales looking for the perfect piece of furniture to go in my newly redecorated living room. After three hours, we went to WalMart and I picked up a pretty, cherry cabinet. Now if only I could keep the Terrors off it!

I have been busy, busy working on Mistress of Malice and Mercy (half-finished, yay!) and Sometimes it is Rocket Science (also half-finished, another yay!). Here is another snippet of SiiRS:

Georgiana paused in the doorway to Yvonne’s office to let her assistant know she was giving Robert a tour of the building. The elevator ride to the lobby was uncomfortable. Despite his earlier laughter, she was afraid he was still hung up on her comment about trust. The orange indicator light switched from 12 to 11. She slammed her hand on the emergency stop button.

“Dan has joint custody of Ken,” she blurted, throat tight and eyes fixed on the closed doors. “Not his stock or trust, that’s all on me, but over Ken’s wellbeing. It’s how Dad set it up. Dad trusted your father with one of the most important things in his world. I’m following Dad’s example.”

Robert was silent, but she knew he was listening. She exhaled shakily and, glad she’d worn heels that made their height difference negligible, met his inscrutable stare. “Daniel was there when Mom died and again for Dad’s death. Trusting him is like breathing because he’s always been there. I’m sorry, Bobby, but I just don’t know you that well any more.”

“I know you would have wasted away your freshman year if I hadn’t dragged you out of the library for meals.” Robert held up a hand to stave off the impending rebuttal. “You would have been late to every one of your classes if I hadn’t given you that tour or drawn you a map.”

Her lips curved upwards at the mention of the last time she and Robert had spent quality time together. Her first year at MIT had been his last. He’d taken time out of his busy schedule wowing professors and seducing undergrads to show Georgiana around. As children, they’d bonded over the isolationism of being the children of wealthy, famous parents and the tribulations that went along with genius. In college, they’d commiserated about expectations and overprotective fathers. After Robert’s MIT graduation, he’d gone to Oxford for an additional year of study. Their friendship rapidly faded to polite nothings at social functions and impersonal holiday cards.

I also know you wouldn’t have passed that Elements of Software Construction class without my help,” he continued.

Georgiana shook off the melancholy to glare at him. “Oh? And who was it that helped you with that Statistical Physics class when they were, oh I don’t know, in high school?”

Robert’s rumbling laughter bounced off the elevator’s metal walls. “You are aware that when you say ‘high school’ it does not mean the same as it would for anyone else, aren’t you?”

Sometimes it is Rocket Science snippet

2011-06-30T14:47:00.000-05:00

I know I've mentioned this often enough, but I am working on a contemporary romance/romantic suspense story. It's a challenge trying to avoid demons and magic, but that's what science is for! I had contemplated publishing this under a different name to avoid confusion, but nixed that idea (though I have posted a draft under a different name). Since I love family dynamics, Georgiana's relationship with her younger brother features heavily into the story, as does Robert's relationship with his father. This is also set in Houston and features talking houses, robots, and quirky assistants.

Sometimes it is Rocket Science
(working title, natch)
Already overwhelmed by responsibilities, robotics whiz Georgiana doesn't have time to deal with traitors, murderous CEOs, or Robert's persistent seduction.

Here's a snippet from Chapter Two:

Robert spotted Georgiana seated on the hood of his hired town car chatting with the chauffeur. As soon as he was within earshot, Georgiana shook her head and slid off the hood. He was disappointed to note that her slight smile had disappeared and her face was once again closed off.

“Are you staying at Dan’s or at a hotel?” she asked.

“Mmm,” Robert hummed. “Angling for a dinner invitation, already? I will admit that I am not used to dining solo.”

Georgiana rolled her eyes, shoved her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. “I don’t know why you bother flirting with me. It’s never going to work.”

Robert leaned forward so that the tip of his nose grazed her cheek. The citrusy tang of her perfume was light and intoxicating. “I never say never, Georgiana.”

He was rewarded by a shiver and the dilation of her pupils. Despite what she claimed, she wasn’t completely immune to him. He rocked back on his heels and grinned rakishly. “I’m in the mood for a nice, juicy steak. You look like you could use the iron.”

“I don’t need… I’m not…” Georgiana’s cheeks were red. Irritation sparkled in her eyes. Her face scrunched up a moment before smoothing. “I wasn’t asking you to dinner.”

“That’s a shame. Now I’m heartbroken and hungry.”

She snorted. “You’d have to have a heart first.” She leaned against the town car and jerked her pointed chin towards a blue Audi sports coupe parked nearby. “I’ll follow you to the house. Dan changed the locks last year, and I should explain about NORA.”

“Who is she? I wasn’t aware Dad had a housekeeper on staff.”

Georgiana’s lips twitched. “Oh,” she said, “I think this you’re just going to have to see. NORA is something you need to experience to understand.”

Soundtrack... Thursday? "Spectacular Girl" - Eels

2011-06-30T08:32:00.000-05:00

Oh, I know I'm very late with this. Blame it on the pre-vacation craziness, the vacation itself, and the post-vacation laziness. This is just a sweet song that fits perfectly for Viola and Duke.

I am still working furiously on Mistress of Malice and Mercy and my romantic suspense. More Duke and Viola to come soon. I hope y'all have a wonderful holiday weekend.

Sunset at South Padre Island

2011-06-24T22:22:00.001-05:00

Birthday Present

2011-06-21T14:46:00.000-05:00

Okay, so it's my birthday, but I thought I'd give y'all the present.

I have been utterly swamped with work, getting ready for my trip, and working on both Mistress of Malice and Mercy and my contemporary romance (which I may start posting snippets of, if you'd like). I did manage to get this very short, early Duke & Viola piece done.

2007

A noisy, crowded outdoor party in The-Second-Wheatfield-Beyond-The-Middle-Of-Nowhere, Oklahoma was the last place Duke wanted to be. Since he’d stopping traveling with the Ashwoods, though, Bert had made it clear that Duke needed to make sure his Trackers remembered his name and his face. Tommy Calhoun, Duke’s eyes and ears in the Oklahoma City area, had invited him to their pre-busy summer season bash.

He took a sip from his plastic cup of warming beer and ignored the sweat trickling down his spine. Though the sun had set over an hour earlier, it was hot even a good distance from the bonfire they’d lit before the first stars twinkled. He nodded at a pair of Trackers he remembered attending one of his database training sessions.

He opened his mouth to start a conversation, when an unforgettable, feminine laugh reached his ears. His jaw snapped shut. Muscles tense, he whipped out his phone and tapped out a text message to his high school best friend Sebastian Ashwood: Where are you?

‘Shreveport,’ came the one word answer.

Duke blew out a sigh of relief. He was always happy to have a six-hour drive between him and Sebastian’s little sister, his nemesis/friend/sorta-trainee. Relaxed, he asked the two closest Trackers about the funniest thing that had happened on their last rotation and forgot all about hazel-eyed, Goth-wannabe imps.

Forty minutes later, he edged closer to the bonfire. The heat was no longer unbearable, and the sweat drying on his back was actually a little cool. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of that impossible, unmistakable laugh. His head swiveled around as he tried to find the source of the laughter. If the party hadn’t been so crowded, or full of people with unique abilities like his own, he would have dropped the extra-thick walls surrounded his mind. Her mind was usually the most chaotic in any room, and he knew the feel of her brain as well as he knew his own.

His feet carried him to a grouping of fifteen or so men a dozen feet from the fire. Salsa music, oddly enough, blared from the open windows of the ancient pickup truck that doubled as the bar. A smaller fire had been built specifically for the smokers in the group. The heavy blend of cigarette and cigar smoke made his eyes water, but it was what he saw near the center of the circle that made the breath catch in his throat.

A slim, dark-haired gypsy in a long, gauzy pink skirt, matching halter, and jingling bracelets grabbed the hand of the nearest Tracker and dragged him into her dance. Her skirt whipped around her calves and her loose hair, curling in the humidity, bounced around her grinning, elfin face. When her dance partner planted large, calloused hands on the bare skin between the hem of her skirt and her shirt and dipped her, she threw her head back and laughed merrily.

Duke’s plastic cup crumpled in his hand. He shook off the warm beer and elbowed his way into the circle. It was obvious that every man watching her dance was under her spell. He longed for a water hose or a bucket of ice. A growl rumbled low in his chest.

He expected her to notice him right away. He waited for her eyes to widen with surprise, for her cheeks to flush with shame and not giddiness, and for her to gravitate to his side like she always did. He mentally prepared a lecture on attending parties like this without a chaperone.

Viola Ashwood, lost in the music and the three sweet, high-octane drinks she’d downed earlier, never glanced in his direction. When her dance partner shuffled back to his friend, she simply spun and grabbed the nearest arm. The short, stout man was good for a turn around the fire before he pecked her flushed cheek and slipped out of her grasp.

Freer than she’d felt in over a decade, she giggled to herself and reached out blindly for a new partner. Fingertips hitting skin and coarse hair, she trailed her hands down until she was able to lace her fingers between rough, warm digits and yanked. The palms pressed against hers were familiar, but she chased away that thought as soon as it skittered through her mind. She was at the party to forget about Tobias Duke, not pretend that every man was him.

Her newest partner was surprisingly good. He lacked the awkward reluctance of the others and seemed to anticipate her moves. She smiled beatifically at her partner and lifted her mascara-laden lashes. If she was lucky, it was one of the downright edible Cooper boys who’d been flirting with her all night.

She gasped at the furious blue eyes blazing back at her. The hands twined with hers tightened until they were almost painful. Her heart sped up and her knees turned to jelly momentarily. Courage, bolstered by alcohol, stiffened her spine when Duke dragged her out of the circle. She dug her heels into the soft, red clay.

“Wait a minute, Tobias!”

He didn’t pause for a second. She twisted her hands quickly and pulled herself backwards with surprising strength. Before Duke could grab her again, she disappeared into the crowd. Bewildered, Duke rubbed the back of his neck. It wasn’t like Viola to run away from him.

He found her an hour later slumped on a hay bale next to a dozing, behemoth of a farm boy. The man’s thick, tanned arm was wrapped around Viola’s waist and his beefy bicep acted as her pillow. Four empty cups were piled near her feet; she’d lost one of her delicate, silver sandals and her pink-painted toes were dusted with red dirt.

“Knew you’d fin’ me,” she slurred, peering at him through half-lidded, bloodshot eyes.

He exhaled slowly, reined in his temper. If he came across too harsh, she’d only run. Or get the behemoth to break his jaw. She was unpredictable when mad or drunk.

“I will always find you, Vi,” he responded, not sure whether he meant that as a threat or a promise. Given the rollercoaster of emotions she evoked in him, it was a fifty-fifty split.

“Now who’s th’ stalker?”

Duke perched on the edge of bale in front of Viola. He leaned in close only to pull away at the alcohol fumes wafting off her. “Woah! You’re plastered.”

Her head shot up at the accusatory tone. Her nose crinkled and she kicked half-heartedly at his shins. “’M legal,” she reminded him archly. “Nothin’ you can do ‘bout it now.”

The behemoth’s arm snuggled her back against his chest. Duke’s hackles rose. He stuffed his fists in his pockets to keep from knocking the farm boy away from Viola. “What are you doing here, Shortcake?” He hoped the old nickname would get her to open up. He wasn’t used to not being able to read her thoughts or have her babble on about every idea racing through her mind.

“I,” she started, voice quiet but resolved, “am getting over you.”

Duke’s stomach twisted. He tried to tell himself that he was glad Viola was finally going to stop pestering him with her crush, but something like disappointment settled heavily in his heart. “Vi, sweetheart…”

“And Mikey here’s gonna help me,” she continued.

“It’s Gil.” The behemoth didn’t even open his eyes as he corrected her.

“Whatever.” Viola reached up to tickle the short hair at the nape of Gil’s neck. “Gil is gonna help me f’get all about your stupid face and your stupid hero’sm and your stupid smile and your stupid…”

“Eyes?” Duke suggested helpfully when she floundered.

“Everything,” she seethed.

Duke’s patience was wearing thin. He surged to his feet and grabbed her arm. “Come on, Vi. I’m driving you to Shreveport.”

“Wha’s in Shreveport?”

“Your brother.”

She shuddered. “He and Amy are cel’bratin’ their ann’versary.”

“Where’s Olivia?”

Viola shrugged. “I dunno.”

Duke sighed. He was glad his hotel room had two beds. He’d drag Viola back with him, but she was going to have to deal with the hangover on her own. His charity only extended so far.

Gil slowly opened an eye when a Viola disappeared from his grasp. He stared at the swaying, sleepy girl and the angry, blond man holding her up. He recognized the regional head and scratched his chin speculatively. “She yours, boss?”

Duke hesitated. If he said no, there was the potential for jaw-breakage. Saying yes meant… a lot of things he didn’t want to think about surrounded by drunkards and cow patties. “In a way.”

“Am I going to regret letting her go with you?”

“Not as much as I am,” Duke groaned. “Trust me, not near as much as I am.”

The next morning, Viola awoke to a dark, quiet room. A bottle of Tylenol, a bottle of water, and the keys to her rental car were on the nightstand. The trash can was on the floor beside her head. Duke wasn’t in the room, but the faint scent of his soap lingered in the air. She clamped the pillow over her face. Her plan had been a complete failure. She didn’t remember much of the party, and she was dirty, nauseous, sore, and as in love with Duke as she’d ever been.

Recommendations

2011-06-13T11:37:00.000-05:00

I am... wait for it... going on vacation. Not a "get together with the family for a holiday" type of vacation, either. I am going to South Padre Island to relax by the pool with my Mom and drink margaritas. Now, normally I read everything on my phone, but I am afraid of having my ~~lifeline~~ phone so close to the pool. I am opening myself up for good, pool-side book recommendations. I'll read anything except for horror, but I'd prefer something light to read out while I'm soaking up UV rays.

Thanks in advance!

Giveaway Winners

2011-06-08T06:30:00.000-05:00

I hope everyone had a great weekend. Mine was a ton of fun: pool volleyball with the family, fajitas, card games, my cousin's graduation, watching my brother change a tire in the parking lot at A&M after graduation, more pool volleyball, a lot of wine...

Now for the part everyone's been waiting for - the winners of the Daughter of Deception and The Chaos Child giveaway.
Congratulations to Kelley C and Steph for winning a copy of the first two books in the series!

Thanks to everyone who entered!

I realize that I've been posting teasers for Mistress of Malice and Mercy but there are those who haven't read The Chaos Child. Here's a teaser from that book:

Viola Ashwood Duke yanked the thick brown sweater over her head as soon as the front door swung shut behind her. She tossed it on top of the heavy down jacket thrown over the back of the couch. Her plan to surprise Duke by catching an earlier flight had been ruined the moment he heard her mental grumblings about airport security. Finding him waiting for her with the warm grin that never failed to weaken her knees, though, more than made up for the disappointment.

"It’s freakin’ cold in Connecticut!"

"Thought you, being part Yankee and all, were warmer-blooded?" Duke teased, using one of her favorite arguments against her.

"Bite me." Viola glared at him as she pulled brown leather gloves out of the pockets of her jeans. The blissful smile on her face counteracted the heat of her retort. Sweet mercy, it was good to be home.

Before she could blink, she was tugged into the warm circle of Duke’s arms. He nipped at her neck playfully. "Don’t mind if I do, sweetness."

Hearing a faint crash from the vicinity of Duke’s office, Viola jerked out of his embrace and reached for the tranquilizer gun strapped beneath the side table. She flicked the safety off with her thumb and checked to make sure a dart was loaded. Whatever demon thought it necessary to ruin her reunion was going to be so very sorry.

Duke watched Viola’s quick, efficient motions with unadulterated admiration. Women who could handle weapons were one of his weaknesses. The glint of determination and glee in her eyes pulled him out of his lust-induced haze. "It’s just your brother, sugar. That’s his car you saw parked in the drive. Becky said she sent you a text about him this morning."

Viola’s grin stretched from ear to ear. She rolled her shoulders, toed off her sneakers, and tiptoed towards the office. Duke wrapped an arm around her waist and hefted her over his shoulder.

"Oh no, sweetness. I didn’t spend the better part of six hours restraining myself just so you could waltz in and shoot the bastard."

Daughter of Deception Blog Tour - Final Stop! International Giveaway!

2011-06-01T04:38:00.000-05:00

Wow! It’s been a great tour, hasn’t it? I want to start off by thanking everyone who followed along and all the wonderful bloggers who hosted stops. I had a great time with the interviews and picking out excerpts. It was amazing. I also want to give a great, big thank you to Belinda for all her work putting the tour together and for all her help.

If you’ll step into my little narcissism corner over here, I’ll share a little secret with you: this tour helped me fall in love with my own book all over again. I’m currently working on the final book in the series: Mistress of Malice and Mercy. Most of last year was spent on the second book: The Chaos Child. Except for when I’ve had to go back and make sure I didn’t contradict myself, I hadn’t read Daughter of Deception in almost a year. After reading all your fantastic comments, I had to go back and make sure we were discussing about the same book!

As I said, I’m working on the final book in the series. It’s going to be hard to say goodbye to Duke and Viola, but I have tentative plans to continue in the Network universe. I’m not going to rule out a guest appearance or two. One of the characters I’d like to explore is Viola’s former best friend Aaron. He stumbled his way into the Network when they were in high school, and a jealous Duke (though he had no claim on Viola at the time) moved him to El Paso. I’m also working on a contemporary romance chock full of artificial intelligence, physics (which is a nice break from the psychics in the Family Lies series), and a whole passel of geekiness.

Thank you again to everyone who has supported the tour. Now, for the fun part: I’m going to give away 2 sets of the first two books in the series (e-books only, sorry!). All you have to do is leave a comment at the bottom – it can be a question about the series or a question for Duke or Viola or a random comment about whatever’s passing through your mind. The winners will be picked at random and contacted via e-mail. I’ll announce the winners here once the contest has ended. Since this is an e-book, it’s going to be an international giveaway. Please make sure you leave your e-mail in the comment or have it visible in your profile. My ESP often goes on the fritz :).

This contest is open until June 6th!

Mistress of Malice and Mercy Teaser #2

2011-05-26T11:01:00.000-05:00

Another bit of a conversation between Duke and Viola:

"How was the ‘port?” she asked, sinking against his solid heat. Bickering with Duke always lifted her spirits.

Breach-magic fueled teleports weren’t a new concept, but theirs was different. Matching tattoos under their wedding rings directed the energy so that the teleport always took one straight to the other’s side. It was useful in emergencies. Neither had grown used to being yanked out of one place and dumped in another.

“Dizzying as always.” Duke retreated so there was a sliver of space between them. He lifted her chin so she was forced to meet his eyes. “Are we going to talk about this army thing, or are we going to two-step around it all day?”

“I never liked doing the two-step.”

“That’s because you refuse to let your partner lead. You’re doing a damn fine job of avoiding the topic, sugar.”

Viola sighed, slumped forward with her forehead resting against his shoulder. “Elrachaim’s got an army; we don’t. What is there to talk about?”

---
By the way, are you following the Daughter of Deception blog tour? It's full of excerpts, interviews, reviews, and giveaways. At the end, I'll give away an e-copy of both Daughter of Deception and The Chaos Child. I'd send a copy of MMM along with it, but trust me you wouldn't enjoy it in its current state.

Here's today's interview with The Bookish Snob: http://thebookishsnob.blogspot.com/2011/05/daughter-of-deception-interview.html

Mistress of Malice and Mercy teaser

2011-05-24T10:05:00.000-05:00

Okay, I'll admit, I get a little goofy when I read nice things written about Daughter of Deception. Maybe it's because I still see it as that silly little project I used to as a distraction from ~~hell~~ work. Anyway, after reading several very lovely comments about Duke and Viola, I dove into Mistress of Malice and Mercy, the last book in the series.

In the first chapter, Duke and Viola have this little conversation, and I thought I'd share it with the rest of you:

"I know, sweetness, I know." Duke guided her off her chair and onto his lap. Mindful of his still-healing shoulder, he cradled her against his chest with her head tucked under his chin. "I'm sorry about that. Blame it on the fact that I'm running on no caffeine."

"You should have stayed in bed."

"I can't sleep when you're not there with me."

Viola's heart melted. Tears stung her eyes. He was so gruff most of the time that his sweeter side still stunned her. She was glad no one else saw the gooey side to the rough, tough Network region head. "Aww, Tobias."

"I mean, lately you've been a little space heater and it's damn cold in that bedroom."

The tears dried. Her lips thinned. She dug her knees into his hips. "You're a jerk."

So, as you can tell, marriage hasn't changed much for ~~our~~ my favorite couple.

Chocolate Chip Scones

2011-05-19T15:24:00.001-05:00

Okay, so those don't look like scones. They look like drop biscuits. I used a scone recipe, but they were the last thing on my "to make" list and I got lazy. Very, very lazy. Rather than rolling them out and cutting them into pretty little circles, I did what any good Southern gal does with a bowl of biscuit batter - I dropped them on the baking sheet by the spoonful. I call them "rustic" or "country" - or you can call them lazy. I won't be offended.

I made two batches using the same basic recipe - one "plain" and one chocolate chip. The chocolate chip leftovers were devoured by the guys at work. The others I hoarded and took to work for breakfast along with a little raspberry jam. I am not looking forward to going back to cold cereal next week. I have been thoroughly spoiled. Now, I did use almond milk, so mine were likely a little sweeter than intended, but the milk worked perfectly.

(For those who have made scones before: is the dough supposed to be super sticky? This was my first time, and I wasn't sure what the dough was supposed to be like).

Here is my recipe (taken from... I don't remember):

Basic recipe:
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons butter
1 egg, beaten
3/4 cup almond milk

Mix the dry ingredients together in a medium bowl. Cut in the butter until the mixture resembles course crumbs. (I used my hands. It's fun!Stir in the egg. (If you are making the chocolate chip ones, here is where you add 1-1/2" teaspoon and 2/3 cup mini chocolate chips).

Gradually add the milk until a thick dough is formed.

(This next step is the one I skipped)
Turn out the mixture onto a floured board and knead lightly. Roll out the dough to 3/4" thickness and cut into rounds with a 2" cookie cutter. Gather the trimmings and lightly knead, roll, and cut them as well.

Place the rounds about 1" apart on a lightly greased baking sheet. Brush the tops with a little beaten egg or milk. Bake in a preheated 450° oven for about 10 to 15 minutes, until golden brown. Serve warm.

Almond milk chocolate sheet cake

2011-05-16T10:23:00.002-05:00

I love chocolate sheet cake! It was one of my favorite desserts as a kid. There's just something about all that chocolate and the unique flavor (maybe it's the vinegar and baking soda) that sets it apart from other cakes. When planning the menu for Sunday's tea party/Pride & Prejudice marathon, I found a recipe for a chocolate sheet cake that uses almond milk. Since milk from a cow sometimes makes me sick and my aunt is lactose intolerant, I thought it was perfect.

I added more cocoa than the recipe called for simply because I got a little carried away. The cinnamon flavor got lost, but I think that's because I did go overboard with the cocoa. This cake smells amazing when you are making it - you boil the butter, milk, and cocoa so it smells like hot chocolate and then you pour that over the sugar/flour/cinnamon mixture and it makes you want to grab a spoon and just dig in (I don't recommend it, though). The cake was a huge hit at the tea party. I brought what was left to work today and it disappeared before I could run out to the car to grab a box of plastic forks! If you see about fifteen guys with chocolate around their mouths, they work for me!

All the food at the tea part went over very well (which makes me happy because I spent all day Saturday baking). I will post pictures and recipes throughout the week.

-- Note, because I wanted to cut the cake in small pieces, I put it in the fridge for a couple of hours once it was done. It will cool very nicely on it's own, but if you want the glaze to harden faster you should chill it. --

Taken from the Silk Pure Almond website, here is the recipe for the chocolate sheet cake.

Ingredients:
Cake
2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 cup butter or margarine
4 tablespoons cocoa
1 1/2 cups Silk Pure Almond Vanilla
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon vinegar
2 eggs, beaten
Frosting
1/2 cup margarine or butter
4 tablespoons cocoa
6 tablespoons Silk Pure Almond Vanilla
3 cups powdered sugar, sifted
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup toasted, chopped pecans or walnuts, if desired

Instructions
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Spray or grease a 9x13-inch baking pan. Whisk together flour, sugar and cinnamon in a large bowl; set aside.

In a medium saucepan, melt butter or margarine. Add cocoa and Pure Almond and bring to a rapid boil. Remove from heat and pour over dry ingredients, mixing well. Stir in soda, vinegar and eggs. Mix well and pour into prepared pan. Bake in top rack of oven for 20-25 minutes. While cake is still warm, prick thoroughly with a fork and pour frosting over cake.
I sprinkled mini chocolate chips over the top of the cake before I poured the frosting. They partially melted and added another layer of chocolate yumminess.

To make the frosting:
Melt butter or margarine in a medium saucepan. Add cocoa and Pure Almond and bring to a boil. Remove from heat and add powdered sugar, vanilla and nuts. Keep warm.

Soundtrack Fridays - Daughters

2011-05-13T12:09:00.000-05:00

This song wasn't on any of my original playlists. I like John Mayer just fine, but he didn't fit in with the characters or the story. While going through my frighteningly large collection of music looking for songs to put on playlists (this is a task that can take days because I get distracted), I hit play for "Daughters" because I hadn't heard it in a long time. My husband laughed at how perfectly it seemed to describe Viola and her father. He was right, as he often is. I hate to quote tv pundits, but the "defining moment" in Viola's life was her father's disappearance.

Enough rambling! Here's the song:

John Mayer - Daughters by naoufel-actor

I have a tea party on Sunday (we're going to watch the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice), so I will be baking my little heart out on Saturday. That's what I get for volunteering to make all the food. I found a recipe for a chocolate cake that uses almond milk, and I've never made scones before so we'll see how that turns out. I'll share my triumphs (or, you know, utter failures) with you Monday.

Have a wonderful weekend!

Viola's Banana Bread

2011-05-07T23:01:00.000-05:00

Duke has made no secret of the fact that he loves banana bread. In Daughter of Deception he calls it the perfect apology food. Later in the series, he mentions that Viola gets revenge on him by lacing the banana bread with cayenne pepper.

Here is Viola's banana bread recipe:

Ingredients:
1-1/2 cup flour
1-1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon each: ground cloves, ground nutmeg, ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
(Or if you'd like, use 1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice - this recipe is spicy, alter to your tastes)
1 egg
3/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1-1/2 to 2 cups mashed bananas (about five or six very ripe ones)
1/8 teaspoon vanilla

Directions
- Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease 9x5 loaf pan
- Mix flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and spices in a large bowl. Make a well in the center of the ingredients and set aside.

- In a second, medium bowl mash the bananas - I find it's easiest to put the peeled bananas in the bowl, cover them with the sugar, and then use a fork or potato masher to mash them. The sugar works as an abrasive to break up the bananas.

- Add the egg, vegetable oil, and vanilla to the banana and sugar mixture. Combine.
- Dump the wet ingredients into the well in the dry ingredients. Fold until just moistened. I usually try to keep it to under 30 strokes.
- Pour into loaf pan. Bake at 350 for 50 - 55 minutes. Let cool.

- Enjoy.
Actually, I find that banana bread tastes best after it has been sitting for twelve hours or so. (If you make it at night, it makes a wonderful breakfast).

Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I need a late night snack!

Soundtrack Fridays - Born on the Bayou

2011-05-06T09:19:00.001-05:00

Good Friday morning! It's beautiful outside - I'm stuck inside, but I'm trying not to think about that right now.

This week's track comes from Daughter of Deception again. At the end of chapter thirteen, Duke and Viola have a small discussion about music. She chooses a Creedence Clearwater Revival CD as a compromise between her grunge/rock preference and his country music leanings.

This is the first song they hear:

Foo Fighters did a cover of this song that's not bad. Who am I kidding? It's pretty damn awesome. CCR + Foo Fighters = great music.

Did you know that Houston is known as the Bayou City? Since they were both born in Houston, it's an appropriate song.

Plus, it's just fun.

Have a great weekend!

Soundtrack Fridays - Under Pressure

2011-04-29T06:05:00.000-05:00

In chapter twenty of Daughter of Deception Viola listens to a best of David Bowie cd while baking banana bread - which is, according to Duke, the perfect apology food. I missed yesterday's recipe posting, but I hope to have Viola's banana bread up this weekend.

In that chapter, Paul Duke mentions that this song reminds him of Viola. I think it works for the entire series.

Queen and David Bowie - what's not to love?

Viola, at the beginning of The Chaos Child

2011-04-27T14:38:00.000-05:00

Viola’s trip to Connecticut at the beginning of The Chaos Child

At first Viola thought it was a jet-lag induced hallucination. Inclement weather at BWI had delayed the last leg of her flight from Houston to Hartford. She’d used the time stuck on the plane to e-mail a memo back to the office regarding the importance of nonstop flights. Ten minutes after sending the e-mail, she’d begged Duke to deliver lunch to the office as an apology for the profanity-laden message.

As the taxi pulled into the hotel parking lot, though, it became clear that it wasn’t a hallucination. There really were three gold and red Ghost Grabbers vans parked in front of the Luz Hotel. As soon as the car rolled to a stop, she flung open the door and hopped out of the car. While he retrieved her suitcase from the trunk, she dialed Becky’s number.

“I am scheduled to be at the Luz tonight, aren’t I?” she asked, cutting off her employees greeting.

“Yes, you are. I spoke with the manager, a Mr. Scott Farleigh, this morning to confirm your reservation in a non-smoking room.” Becky’s voice was cool. It was clear she hadn’t completely forgiven Viola for the e-mail. “I have also rebooked your return flight. I will e-mail the details to you shortly.”

“Thank you, Becky.” Viola made a mental note to send Becky flowers. “I am sorry about the e-mail. You know airline food makes me cranky, and I was stuck next to the most talkative person on the planet.”

Becky harrumphed. “Is there a problem with the hotel?”

Viola handed the driver a wad of bills in exchange for her suitcase. Gravel crunched under her sneakers as she marched towards the glass double doors. “There are Ghost Grabbers vans in the parking lot,” she hissed.

She normally didn’t bother wasting energy thinking about the multitude of paranormal investigators across the country. Most treated it as a hobby, and those who hunted demons in their spare time couldn’t throw stones. The Ghost Grabbers, however, had landed a syndicated television show and national attention. Their condescending attitude towards spirits, laughable techniques, and propensity to claim everything as paranormal had earned them Viola’s disdain.

Becky muttered an apology and hung up on Viola. Viola shook her head, slipped her phone in the front pocket of her green trousers. The foyer of the mid-sized independent hotel was dark and imposing. The glass in the skylights was frosted and electric wall sconces provided the only other light. She gave them points for creepiness.

Viola ignored the rail-thin blonde standing near a grouping of chairs in the lobby. She recognized the young woman as a member of the Ghost Grabbers. The thirty-ish black woman behind the front desk smiled politely at Viola, but her posture indicated she was uncomfortable.

“Hi, Viola Duke.” Viola forced herself to remain in control. It wasn’t the poor woman’s fault the manager was a PR-hungry ass. “I’d like to speak with Scott Farleigh. Now.”

As if she’d expected such a request, the woman, Adelle according to her name tag, escorted Viola to a small office on the other side of a black column. Adelle rapped once on the door before opening it. Three men, two wearing gold Ghost Grabbers polos, were already in the room.

“Mr. Farleigh, Mrs. Duke has arrived,” Adelle said before brushing past Viola and returning to the desk.

Viola left her suitcase outside the door. She slipped her balled fists into her pockets, leaned against the doorjamb, and fixed Scott Farleigh, a graying, middle-aged stout man, with an expectant stare. “If there was a miscommunication between your office and mine, I have no problem moving on to one of my other locations and rescheduling this evaluation.”

She didn’t care if it cost a potential business associate. Something about Farleigh rubbed her the wrong way, and in the end he would be the one to lose out on profits. There were five hotels in the Hartford area looking to work with Spirited Stays.

“No, no, Mrs. Duke. There is no misunderstanding.” Farleigh’s booming voice rattled the framed photos on the walls. “I was hoping we could kill two birds in one night, so to speak. You and these gentlemen are in the same line of work. Surely your… er… skills would be a perfect complement to their technical expertise.”

Anger swirled in her belly. Power flooded her veins, turned her eyes a dangerous, glittering black. “I am not a medium for hire,” she bit out, lips curled back in a snarl. “I do not appreciate you making arrangements like this without consulting me first.”

“What’s the matters, Mrs. Duke?” One of the Ghost Grabbers leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Afraid of the cameras?”

“Nope. I don’t want to waste my time working with a bunch of AV Club geeks who don’t know the difference between the hum of an air conditioner and an EVP.” Anger cooled steel resolve. She kicked off the doorjamb. “My expertise isn’t the one you should question, Mr. Farleigh. I’ve got mad skills.”

The spirit in the corner of the room hesitantly waved at Viola. She winked back at the shy, young man dressed in mid-nineteenth century clothing. It was clear he was less than impressed by the Ghost Grabbers, too.

“Now, it’s late and I’m tired, so I’m going to go back up to the desk and check in. I’m going to order something from room service for dinner, and in the morning I’ll pay for my stay and leave. You won’t contact my company, and I won’t tell everyone I know what a jerk you are.” She arched an eyebrow at the flabbergasted Farleigh. “Okay?”

“B-but, Mrs. Duke…”

“Oh, and by the way, your hotel isn’t haunted.”

The spirit followed Viola to the front desk. He loitered by her suitcase while she checked in and got a room service recommendation from Adelle. It wasn’t until she was in the elevator that she spoke to the ghost.

“I’m sorry about denying your presence earlier. Feel free to make a liar out of me, if you’d like.”

The ghost shook his head. “I have seen their work on the television. I do not care for their methods or their manner of speaking.” He extended his hand, thought twice about it, and settled for tipping an invisible hat. “I am Archibald Thorton, Mrs. Duke. It is a pleasure to meet someone with whom I can converse.”

“Viola, please.” She curtsied awkwardly. “Archibald? Can I call you Archie?”

“You may. It is a diminutive my dear sister often used.”

Archie walked with Viola to her room. She was pleased to have a corner room, until she opened the curtains across the wall-length picture window. She had a lovely view of… the hotel across the street. She let go of her suitcase and sank onto the edge of the bed.

“I hate Connecticut.”

After changing into sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt she’d stolen from Duke’s side of the closet, she read the one-sided room service menu aloud to Archie. There were four sharp knocks on her door. She grabbed the tranq gun out of her open suitcase and peered through the peephole before opening the door.

Farleigh and two of the Ghost Grabbers stood in the hallway. The blonde from the lobby had a black case in her hands. She shuffled her feet and shot Viola a hesitant, apologetic smile.

“Mrs. Duke, I am going to have to ask you to remain in your room for the duration of our investigation,” the male Ghost Grabber said. “Rainbow’s going to install a camera outside your door to ensure nothing contaminates our evidence. We’re going to need you to keep your television off, as well.”

Viola slammed the door in their faces. She briefly entertained thoughts of burning the building down or at least slashing the tires on the Ghost Grabber vans. The bacon cheeseburger she ordered from room service was bland and her fries were soggy. She made a mental note to forgo the complimentary breakfast.

She dragged the black upholstered chair to the window and stared out the window as she ate her chocolate lava cake. Fortunately, it had a rich flavor and the cake was moist. She regretted not ordering two and calling that dinner.

The hotel across the street had a charming, Victorian façade. It was smaller than the Luz, but looked brighter and cleaner. “What do you know about the Cantor Hotel?” she asked Archie.

“I am afraid I have not left this establishment since my death.”

As soon as she finished her dessert, Viola booted up her laptop. The Cantor’s website was simple but elegant. It only had 124 guest suites and one meeting room, but it also boasted a bar, dining room, lobby, and library. The décor managed to maintain an old world feel without compromising modern amenities.

She and Archie watched the virtual tour and clicked through the photos. Archie instantly fell in love with the Cantor. He sighed wistfully when they reached the pictures of the library.

“How attached to this hotel are you, Archie?”

“I do not know. I have not attempted to leave.” Archie faded from view. “Please pardon me.”

Viola responded to two of Becky’s e-mails. Halfway through her second game of solitaire, Archie returned. A wide smile split his boyish face.

“It is possible! I crossed the street and entered the Cantor. The library is divine!”

“How do you feel about moving?” She didn’t feel guilty in the least about stealing the Luz’s ghost. It was true that most of the hotels listed with Spirited Stays profited from being haunted, but none of them outright exploited the resident ghosts.

After hearing Viola’s proposal, Archie heartily agreed to moving to the Cantor if the proprietor agreed with the plan. They played four games of computer chess before Viola got tired of losing and shut down her laptop. The Ghost Grabbers weren’t bothering to be quiet. They could hear them stomping up and down the stairs and talking in the hallways. Viola bit back a laugh every time she heard a high-pitched exclamation. As the hotel’s only spirit was dozing in her room’s spare chair, it was doubtful they’d caught anything truly ghost-related.

She flicked off the bedside lamp and stretched out on the bed. Duke laughed when she used their link to tell him all about the Ghost Grabbers and Archie. He laughed even harder at her petulant exclamation of boredom.

“We could always…” he started.

“No,” she sighed. He made the same suggestion any time they were apart. “We are not using the link for that.”

“But I miss you.” His voice dipped lower, liquid heat her mind. “I could make it good, sugar.”

“I’m sure you could, but there’s a camera with audio right outside my door.”

His chuckle was two-parts pure filth and one-part amusement. “You could try being quiet.”

“There’s also a ghost in my room. A ghost who blushed when he saw my ankles. I’m not going to traumatize the poor thing by engaging in… in that.”

“Ha,” Duke laughed. “Never mind, then. If you can’t say it, you can’t do it, sugar.”

Face flame red, she sent a wave of irritation through the link. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t sweetness.” Duke’s affection-warmed tone lulled her to sleep. “Just relax and think about all the things I’m going to do to you when you get home. I advise stretching first.”

She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

The next morning, Archie was right beside her as she paid for her room and rolled her suitcase across the busy street. The inside of the Cantor was as inviting as it appeared on the website. Viola went directly to the front desk, introduced herself, asked for the manager.

Phillip Dickens, the general manager, greeted her with a smile and a breakfast invitation. Behind his back, Archie gave her an enthusiastic nod. She grinned back.

“Mr. Dickens, how would you like to be the manager of a haunted hotel?”

Soundtrack Fridays... "Slow Down Sister"

2011-04-22T05:54:00.000-05:00

Now, this next song is on my "Duke" playlist, but it's not necessarily one he would like. He's more of the rowdier, Texas country music type of guy. The song, however, reminded me a lot of how he felt at the beginning of Daughter of Deception.

"Slow Down Sister" by Lady Antebellum

So what are you listening to today?

Tasty Thursdays - Paul Duke’s Slow Braised Beef or Pork Roast

2011-04-21T05:55:00.001-05:00

I had planned on showcasing recipes actually in the series, but this one I already had pictures of. Paul Duke was a single father for ten years, and his mama wouldn't have let him feed Toby nothing but fast food. This is one of his favorite meals.

From The Duke Family Cookbook

Paul Duke’s Slow Braised Beef or Pork Roast

1 - Pork shoulder butt roast or beef pot roast, preferably bone-in (approx 3 to 4 pounds)

1 - Medium red or yellow onion (peeled and quartered)

2 - Large carrots (scrubbed and cut in thirds or quarters)

2 - Large celery ribs (scrubbed and cut same size as carrots)

12 oz - Salsa (heat level to suit you – use your favorite)

12 oz – Shiner Bock (or your favorite full-flavored (not light) beer)

Salt Pepper Onion Power Garlic Powder to taste

2 Med or 1 Large Bay Leaf (optional)

Directions:

Put carrots, onion, and celery in the bottom of the crock pot.

Trim excess fat from meat. Season with salt, pepper, onion powder, and garlic powder on all sides. Stick it in crock pot on top of vegetables.

*** Aggie Duke Note:If pork is marbled well enough, you can brown it in a Dutch oven without oil (medium heat). For beef (or if pork seems very lean) use about 2 tbsp of oil (not olive, but peanut, sunflower or the like) on medium heat. Sear the meat on all sides while allowing it to brown on the large flat sides. This gives it a good flavor, makes the meat look appetizing, and by searing all side ensures a juicy roast at the end. Use tongs to turn your meat as it cooks. Fork holes in it defeat the purpose of searing and sealing. ***

Dump salsa in crock pot. Add 2/3 (8 oz) of the beer to the salsa jar and stir it well to clean the jar. Pour in crock pot and stir (beer will foam). Toss in bay leaves. Cover. Set on low and allow to cook for 4 – 6 hours. Use an instant read thermometer after 4 hours to gauge meat temperature and adjust cooking time accordingly.

Shut off crock pot 20 minutes before the meat is completely done. Let rest for ½ hour. Trash veggies and bay leaf.

Slice and serve with side dishes of your choice. Or shred, dump back in the juice, and put in tortillas or rolls.

(served here with mashed potatoes and green beans)

Duke, post TCC

2011-04-20T09:37:00.000-05:00

A glimpse inside Duke's head post-The Chaos Child. Minor, minor spoilers.

I will get back to work on Mistress of Malice and Mercy soon. Ish.

The residents of Burkeholt treat Viola like a goddess. They fall over themselves rushing to fulfill her every whim and vie for the opportunity to touch her hand or brush against the sleeve of her jacket. Duke thinks that if they could, they would spread rose petals on the ground for her to walk on or carry her around on a padded chair.

Many of the women from Duke’s past would have exploited the demons. They would have soaked up the attention like a sponge and wished aloud for every petty thing they desired: trinkets, exotic foods, anything the demons had that caught the eye. They would have transformed themselves into their version of a goddess – beautiful, elegant, and wholly self-centered.

When it comes to being a goddess Viola, however, is just plain awkward. Duke can’t help but sit back and watch. It’s the most entertainment he’s had in years.

She listens to the outpouring of effusive compliments until her ears are a bright red, and Duke can practically see the steam pouring out of them. She’s never been one for flattery. When the frustration reaches its boiling point, she snaps at the nearest demons. Tells them to stop calling her Lady Viola, Most Benevolent Savior, Glorious Liberator, or whatever ridiculous title they’ve strung together.

Of course, the demons cower in the face of her anger. Duke bites his tongue to hold back his laughter. They think that’s bad? They should’ve seen her after Sebastian broke her favorite bow her junior year of high school. No one had been spared her wrath then. He has a scar on the back of his left knee from where a dinner plate shard had hit him. Her little tirade on false gods and brown-nosing is nothing.

The demons don’t know better, though. All they know is that they’ve angered their goddess. They prostrate themselves in front of her, beg for mercy. A few of the braver ones fall at her feet and tug on her jeans. There are tears, wails and, buried beneath it all, Duke’s muffled laughter.

Under Viola’s sarcastic, waspish bitter coating, is a heart as soft and squishy as a bean bag chair. When faced with crying, desperate demons, she melts. She forgives them in an instant, begs them to ignore her outburst, and allows them to continue. The cycle begins again.

At Burkeholt, Duke is mostly forgotten. He’s okay with that. He likes staying in the background and observing. Well, he likes watching Viola, at least.

He finds it hilarious that Viola is their Virtuous Queen of Victory. Watching her shift uncomfortably as a Xilarian bard sings (Duke’d rather listen to one of those damn auto-tuned pop songs, but his earplugs are in the truck and they rode in her SUV) her praises, all he can see is his Viola. The girl who shot herself in the foot when she was a kid. Who threw tantrums, skipped school, drove her siblings insane, and got into more trouble than he’d like to remember. She has the curiosity of a cat and fortunately, or unfortunately if you’re on the wrong side of that curiosity, the lives to go with it. She has horrible taste in music, no appreciation for his authority, and an acid-dipped tongue. Five days out of ten, he’d like nothing more than to wrap his hands around her neck and choke the stubbornness out of her.

In the middle of his musings, a scuffle breaks out in the crowd surrounding Viola. Someone starts shoving his way towards her and someone else shoves back and, like all the riot videos Duke’s seen, pandemonium ensues. He tenses, ready to jump in the fray to protect his wife, when she dissolves the tension with a single quiet but firm word.

“Stop.”

Miraculously they do. They freeze in place. Viola scoops up the tiny, blue-skinned Crean they’d trampled and cuddles it to her chest. She glares the offenders into giving apologies. They bow their heads in shame, she immediately pardons them, and peace once again fills the sanctuary. The Crean wraps its long, spindly arms around Viola’s neck and stares at her with complete adoration.

Yeah. Duke knows that look. He’s certain it’s been on his face more than once. He gets it. Gets how they can mistake her for a goddess. How many times has she stopped him from making a drunken, stupid mistake? How often has she lifted him from depression or teased him out of self-destruction? She thanks him for keeping her from losing control, but she’s the one who saved his sanity first.

Over the Crean’s head, she flashes Duke a bright, slightly nervous smile. She glows so brilliantly inside and out, that he has to look away. For all her demonic ties and potential for destruction, he’s the one who feels unworthy. He’s struck dumb by the need to wrap her up in his arms and hide her from the rest of the world. Keep all that brilliance to himself. He’s always been the greedy sort.

He wonders if the demons know what they’re asking of her. Defeating Elrachaim won’t be simple. It could cost her every ounce of power she possesses. Could cost her life. She’d do it in a heartbeat because she’s weighed down with guilt. Hell, even if the guilt factor wasn’t an issue, she’d do it. That’s just who she is.

He hates it. They see her as their goddess, but gods fall and can be replaced by someone else with flashing eyes and superpowers. He knows too much about the true Viola to put her on a pedestal or place a crown on her head, but she’s… everything. They need her to save them from her father, but they’ve never asked him if he’s willing to sacrifice her for their freedom. He’s not quite sure what his answer would be if they did.

He thinks maybe he’d say no.

On Music... Soundtrack Fridays

2011-04-15T06:10:00.000-05:00

I love music. No, really, I do. If the sound of my voice didn't make small children cry and dogs howl, my career path might have gone a completely different way. I'm crap at the piano, but I could still play a few songs on the flute if asked. I always have the radio playing at work, in the car, anywhere I can.

As I've said on a few writing sites, I don't create playlists for books, really. I create them for characters. They can contain what I think would be the character's favorite songs as well as songs that describe the character. These playlists are amazing when it comes time to writing from that character's perspective. There's just something about music that puts you in a certain mood.

I mention music quite a bit in the Family Lies series. Viola is a music junkie and Duke has his favorite bands. For the next couple of months or so I'm going to put up a few songs from my personal soundtracks on Fridays and explain why I chose them or where they pop up in the book.

In The Chaos Child, Viola hums a song while going through her father's diaries. Many of you have guessed the song correctly, but a few weren't sure. Well... here you go, enjoy a little flashback:

Now, I said I make character playlists, but every now and then I find a song that speaks for the whole book. In this case, I think the song works for the whole series.

What song are you listening to?

WOTD 4-4-11 (Duke/Viola May 1992)

2011-04-04T15:06:00.000-05:00

dapple \DAP-uhl\, noun:
1. A small contrasting spot or blotch.
2. A mottled appearance, especially of the coat of an animal (as a horse).
transitive verb:
1. To mark with patches of a color or shade; to spot.
intransitive verb:
1. To become dappled.
adjective:
1. Marked with contrasting patches or spots; dappled.

Dapple derives from Old Norse depill, "a spot."

May 1992

Toby flinched at the sound of rubber soles on wet grass. Ever since his dad had started training him to recognize footsteps and different sounds, he’d grown more aware of his surroundings. He knew who those footsteps belonged to; only one person he knew skipped everywhere she went.

“Hiya Toby!”

He didn’t acknowledge the cheerful greeting. He carefully filled in the lines on his sketch of the demon his father had brought home earlier. If he got the drawing right, his dad was going to let him do all the autopsy sketches. He was taking advantage of the light summer breeze and sunshine, plus his father had burned the meatloaf again and the house stank.

Undaunted, Viola sidled closer to Toby. She bumped his elbow, peered over his hunched shoulder. “What’cha doin’?”

“Drawing. Don’t you have someone else to annoy, brat?”

“Nope.” Grape-stained lips pulled back to reveal two rows of even, purple teeth. “Livy and Mom are makin’ dinner, and I dunno where Bas went.”

Toby growled under his breath when she bumped his arm again. He shoved her away and went back to work shading in the Dundalk’s dark fur coat. If he was lucky, Viola would go away when she didn’t get the attention she wanted.

“You’re doin’ it wrong.”

His head drooped forward. Long, blond bangs fell into his eyes. He brushed them off his forehead and glared. Viola merely shrugged and stood on the toes of her pink tennis shoes. She leaned over his arm to point at the picture. Her long, auburn ponytail tickled his nose. He tugged on the neon pink rubber band in retaliation.

“Hey!” She swatted his hands, stuck out her purple tongue.

“I am not doing it wrong, brat.”

“Yes you are.”

“Am not.”

“Are, too.”

“Am. Not.”

She rolled her eyes. “Are, too.”

“I. Am. Not.” His nostrils flared, eyes narrowed as he contemplated dipping inside her mind. A quick change of her thoughts would send her back inside the house and out of his hair.

“Are, too. Are, too. Are, too.” She sucked in a quick breath. “Are, too to infinity!”

He snorted. Was that really supposed to work? Remembering his grandmother’s constant admonitions to be nicer to little kids, he resisted the temptation to alter her thoughts. “It’s fine the way it is, Vi.”

“Nah-huh.” She shook her head. The end of her ponytail lashed his cheek. He slapped two hands on her cheeks to keep her from doing it again.

“What’s wrong with it, then?”

“It’s supposed to have spots. You know, like the horses. White and black spots.”

“Like the horses.” Toby released her face and plopped back on his chair. He didn’t believe Viola, but to humor her he grabbed the book by his feet. With her staring at him intently, he flipped to the correct page.

“See, I told you!” She jabbed a short, pale finger at the picture of a Dundalk before twirling away.

He ignored the girl dancing merrily behind him. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that she’d been right. Rather than a smooth, unmarked coat like he’d been drawing, the Dundalk’s coat was dappled. It was a good thing he’d done the sketch in pencil.

“I was right and you were wrong.” Viola spun around his chair, tugged on his ears. “I was right and you were wrong.”

“Yeah, but you’re still a brat.”

WOTD 3-30-11 (September 1997, Duke)

2011-03-30T16:09:00.000-05:00

lucre \LOO-kuhr\, noun:
Monetary gain; profit; riches; money; -- often in a bad sense.

September 1997

Duke was screening his phone calls, but for the first time in years it wasn’t to avoid his mother. Hers was actually the one phone call he needed to answer. The five times he’d called her, he’d gotten the answering machine. He’d contemplated leaving a message but hadn’t been sure of the proper etiquette. How did you inform someone that her ex-husband, the man she verbally abused at every opportunity and accused of ruining lives, was dead? He’d had three days to figure it out, but still had nothing.

The house phone rang. Duke remained slumped in the chair. He’d let the machine get it. He was close enough that if it was his mother he could jump up to catch it before she hung up.

“Toby, this is Davey Harris from Fort Worth. Sad, sad news about your father. We’ll be in for the funeral, son. If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask. This is a terrible loss for all of us.”

Duke snorted. He tilted his beer bottle back to drain the last few drops of amber liquid. He’d only met Davey Harris once; his father had hated the slimy bastard. There was nothing he needed from Davey Harris.

“Anyway, son, I was hoping to get a chance to talk you afterwards about a few things. Your father and I had talked about this piece of land he owns outside of McKinney. It’s a small patch, really, but…”

Duke threw his bottle at the answering machine. It slid off the counter and crashed to the floor. Davey Harris’ voice cut-off mid-sentence.

Disgusted with the bottomfeeders who’d come crawling out of the woodwork in search of the lucre that followed a sudden death. He’d had dozens of calls like Harris’. People who wanted his father’s truck, his weapons, and even an offer to buy the house. It made him sick.

The phone rang while he was rooting around in the fridge for another beer. He slammed the door shut with his foot and grabbed the cordless phone. A Florida phone number appeared on the display. His stomach sank. Showtime.

WOTD - 3-29-11 (December 2000, D, V, O, S)

2011-03-29T15:26:00.001-05:00

And you thought you'd seen the last word of the day. Silly reader. Now, I know these are generally short, but I was feeling wordy today.

And now... time for the fiction with a little bit of knowledge (it's like a word of the day calendar with a short story attached)

bedaub \bih-DOB\, transitive verb:
1. To smudge over; to besmear or soil with anything thick and dirty.
2. To overdecorate; to ornament showily or excessively.

Bedaub is from be-, "thoroughly" + daub, from Medieval French dauber, "to plaster," perhaps from Old French dauber, "to clothe in white, white-wash, plaster," from Latin dealbare, "to whitewash, to plaster," from de- (intensive prefix) + albus, "white."

December 2000

Olivia jerked when a warm hand unexpectedly brushed her arm. The smile she flashed her brother didn’t quite reach her eyes. She snuggled against his chest when he slung an arm across her shoulders. His sweatshirt absorbed the tears trickling down her cheeks.

“How long has she been like this?”

Olivia shrugged. She’d spent two days on campus finishing up an extra-credit project, and Sebastian had been busy with end-of-the-semester reports. Neither of them had paid too much attention to their little sister. There was no telling how long Viola had been holed up in her room.

“At least I don’t have to worry about a phone call from her counselor.” Sebastian sighed, ran his fingers through Olivia’s fine, blonde hair. Ever since their father’s disappearance a year earlier, Viola had made a nasty habit out of skipping school. He was on a first name basis with her counselor, principal, and most of her teachers. If she didn’t have to keep up her grades for track eligibility, he feared the problem would be exponentially worse.

“I should go in there.” Despite her declaration, Olivia didn’t move. “I’ll get her in the shower and we can take her out for dinner. I picked up one of those ice cream cakes she loves. I think we’ve got candles in a drawer somewhere. If not, we can run to Walgreens after dinner and…”

Sebastian chuckled, pressed a long finger across Olivia’s lips. “Breathe, Liv. It’ll be okay. I’m sure Vi wants to keep this birthday low-key, anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Duke’s here. He’ll straighten her out.”

“Why is he here? You shouldn’t have called him, Bas. This is a family matter.”

“He got here the same time I did. He was supposed to take Vi out on rotation for her birthday, but she blew him off. He got worried.”

Olivia nodded. She was worried, too. Viola adored both Duke and Tracking. There was no way she’d simply forget about either.

Both turned away from the doorway at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Duke, cradling a large black mug of steaming liquid, bobbed his head in greeting before barging into Viola’s bedroom. Olivia reluctantly followed Sebastian downstairs. She understood the need for privacy, but she wanted to know how Duke could pull Viola out of her funk when nothing else got through to her.

The bedroom was a disaster. Viola wasn’t a neat freak like Olivia, but the room was unusually messy. Duke shoved a stack of books onto the floor and set the mug on the newly-cleared section of desktop. He dragged a chair across the floor and sat beside her. When she didn’t bother acknowledging his presence, he flicked the tip of her nose.

“What do you want, Toby?”

“You can’t go skipping rotation whenever you feel like, Viola. Your partner counts on you to back him up.”

“You’re not my partner.” She didn’t look up from her notebook. “You didn’t even want me to go with you. You only asked because you felt sorry for me.”

“I think you overestimate how much I actually like you.”

“I think you overestimate how much I actually give a damn.” Viola blinked her gritty, dry eyes. She cradled her pen against her thumb and flexed her cramped fingers. “Thanks for the tea. You can leave now.”

Ignoring her profanity-laced protests, Duke lifted the notebook out from under her nose. His heart sank as he flipped through it. Viola’s handwriting was virtually unreadable. In her haste to write down every passing thought, she’d rendered the pages unreadable. She’d bedaubed the paper with ink and what smelled like chocolate.

“What are you working on, Shortcake?”

“Stuff.” Viola tried to snatch her notebook out of his hands. He held it just out of reach. Huffing, she flopped back in her chair and glared.

He was familiar with the desperation and grief swirling in her eyes. He’d felt the same way on the first anniversary of his father’s death. He knew Viola wouldn’t appreciate pity, but he couldn’t help the flash of sympathy. It was a sure bet she was researching her father’s disappearance. He needed to get her mind off her loss.

He leaned back in his chair and propped his ankles on her knee. “I got a call earlier about something eating dogs in Conroe.”

Viola’s pen fell to the desk. Intrigue softened her glare. “Big dogs or little dogs?”

“Two German Shepherds, a Lab, and a pit bull.”

Her nose crinkled. Poor dogs. “ Anything left behind?” She held up a hand when Duke opened his mouth. “Not of the dogs. I mean, any sign of a demon?”

“Dark green slime, or so the homeowners claim.”

“Smells like menthol?”

“Yeah.”

“Aetkc.”

He grinned. No other Tracker-in-training would have figured it out. “You should have heard Max bragging about you at the last meeting. You’d think he could take all the credit for your training.”

Viola rolled her eyes. “You, Granny, and D….” She swallowed, blinked back a flood of tears. “Dad taught me everything I know.”

“Yep, and as a special birthday bonus you get to help me take care of the Aetkc.” He stood up, wriggled his fingers. “I’ll throw you over my shoulder and drag you out of here if I have to, Shortcake.”

“Fine.” She stood for the first time in hours. Her knees wobbled, her head spun. Once she regained her equilibrium, she grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair and led the way into the hall. “Can I drive?”

“Don’t push it, sweetheart.”

November 2004, Duke/Viola

2011-03-25T10:02:00.000-05:00

What I should be doing is working on another chapter of Mistress of Malice and Mercy, but since Duke's mother Isabel makes an appearance in several chapters, I've been doing a lot of thinking about her. She's not a character I've focused too much on. All that thinking eventually turned out this backstory.

November 2004

The pounding on the motel room door would not stop. A sliver of unease prickled the back of Viola’s neck. There were only three people she knew in Boca Raton. Two of them were eating overpriced seafood in Miami and the third wasn’t aware she was in town.

Frowning, she grabbed the first item her hands hit and tiptoed towards the door. She tried to peer through the peephole, but the glass was so dirty she couldn’t make out anything but a blurred figure. After a mental count of three, she yanked the door open with one hand and held her book up with the other.

“You’re going to hit me with...,” Duke tilted his head back to read the title of the book hovering over his head. “Matrix Computations, Shortcake?”

Viola’s arm dropped limply to her side. She exhaled noisily as the rush of adrenaline faded. She scowled at her brother’s best friend. “What in the hell are you doing here, Tobias? I thought you were in New Orleans.”

Duke ignored Viola’s question and pushed his way into the room. He dropped onto the edge of the king size bed. He glanced around the bland, dim room. He recognized Viola’s overnight bag shoved against the wall between the dresser and the closet door, but didn’t see any other luggage.

“You’ve got your own room?”

Viola shut the door, locked it. She dumped her textbook on the rickety metal dinette table and perched on top of the long, low dresser. “Yep. Liv and Bas have been bitching at each other for the past three days. I told them if I didn’t get some space I was going to hitchhike back to Houston.”

“It’s not like they couldn’t track you down,” he said, gesturing to the wide leather band strapped to her left wrist. The pewter runes fixed to the band acted like GPS locator. He had designed it to replace the tracking bracelet she’d lost a year earlier. “It’s how I found you.”

She flicked at the chunky silver clasp. “It’s removable.” She was flattered, undeniably so, that he’d bothered to track her, but couldn’t understand why he needed to do so in the first place. “What do you want, Tobias?”

“For you to stop calling me that.”

“Not likely.”

“I didn’t think so.” He leaned back on his elbows, crossed his ankles. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

Viola ran a hand through her shoulder-length hair and tried to mask her irritation. She adored Duke, had since she was a kid, but had never been able to make him see her as more than Bas’ little sister or the annoying brat he couldn’t wait to be rid of. Loving him didn’t mean she was going to waste time listening to the same old insults. Her Ashwood pride wouldn’t allow that.

“Yeah, we’ve had this conversation about a hundred times, To-bias,” she said, purposely drawing out his name. “If you’re waiting for Liv or Bas, you might as well do it in your car. I don’t have time for the same old arguments. I really do need to study.”

“You’re…” Duke slowly sat up. Confusion clouded his eyes. “You’re kicking me out?”

“I know this isn’t usually what happens when you’re with a girl in a hotel room, but try not to die of shock. There has a first time for everything. Think of it as a learning experience.”

“I actually came here for a reason, Vi. I need your help.”

She arched an eyebrow but did not respond. She didn’t expect it to be demon-related. Duke took the Network very seriously and would have gotten straight to the point as soon as she answered the door. Besides, the demon population in the Miami area was relatively small. It was one of the reasons people who hated demons, like Duke’s mother…

Viola groaned, squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t put the pieces together before. Duke was in Boca Raton. Florida wasn’t part of his region, and it wasn’t the season for a sunny vacation. He was in town to see his Network-despising mother. The same woman whose phone calls never failed to send him into a drunken stupor or depression. Or, if Viola was really unlucky, both.

“Do you still have your fake?”

Her eyes popped open. They narrowed as she considered the consequences of giving a truthful response. “That’s a trick question, isn’t it? I'm going to have to plead the fifth this time around.”

Duke waved a hand nonchalantly. “Never mind. I’ll find out myself.” Diving into Viola’s mind to find the answer took only a second. Her defenses were good, but he was better. “Good, you’ve got it. I need you to go to a gallery thing with me tonight.”

“Gee, last minute much, Tobias?” Her mouth snapped shut as she realized what he’d said. At least it explained his dress pants and shirt. “What does a gallery thing have to do with my fake id?”

He shot her a withering glare. “After spending a few hours with Mom, I’m going to need a drink or seven. I need you in the bar with me to keep me from doing something stupid like starting a fight.”

“Or going to a cheap motel with a hooker and getting gonorrhea.”

“Viola…”

She blinked owlishly, unfazed by his growl. A slow, sly smile spread across her face. “Yes, Tobias? You know,” she tapped her finger against her chin, “maybe you should go by yourself. I’m sure there are plenty of single women your mother is just dying to introduce to her only son.”

He shuddered.

She laughed. “Oh, calm down before that vein in your forehead bursts.” Stuck in a hotel room studying or a night out with Duke? Of course, she’d choose Duke. She jumped to her feet, glanced down at her flannel pajama pants and wrinkled her nose. “Guess I’d better change clothes.”

As she’d originally planned to go to dinner with Olivia and Bas before they’d gotten too annoying, Viola had a gallery-suitable outfit in her overnight bag. Her black lace pencil skirt and silver cashmere-blend tank top weren’t especially glamorous, but they packed well. After dressing, she hurriedly applied the barest amount of makeup and tied her curling hair back with a silver ribbon.

Back in the bedroom, she dumped her pajamas on the bed and slipped on a pair of silver snake-embossed leather ballet flats. Like most of her dressier clothes, they had been a gift from Olivia. She handed Duke her fake id, room key, and credit card.

“No pockets in the skirt and my purse doesn’t match,” she said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. She yelped when his cold knuckles brushed the inside of her knee. She jumped backwards and slapped at his hands. “What are you doing?”

“Your skirt is way too short, Vi.”

She rolled her eyes. Sometimes he was worse than Sebastian. “No it’s not, you overgrown hypocrite. Now, let’s get this over with.”

She left a message on Olivia’s voicemail so her siblings wouldn’t freak out when they returned from the restaurant and found her gone. Any attempt she made at small talk on the drive to the gallery was met with one-word responses or distracted grunts. After a few minutes, she gave up and stared at the cloudless sky. It was going to be a long night.

At the art gallery, Duke reluctantly handed the keys to his precious truck to the valet and reached for Viola’s hand. The strength of his grip bordered on desperate. She bit her lip to keep from whimpering and moved closer to his side.

“I’m not going to abandon you, you big baby.”

The pressure on her hand eased marginally. She resigned herself to the loss of feeling in her hand for the duration of the evening. Both flinched when they stepped inside the gallery and were immediately assaulted by elevator music. Forced laughter and chuckles along with the clink of glass did little to cover up the music.

“You owe me,” she muttered as they weaved in and out of the crowd in search of Isabel Duke Carrington.

“Suck it up, Shortcake.”

She briefly considered slipping free from his grasp and letting the crowd swallow her up. His thumb twitched. She huffed. Stupid paranoid telepath.

“Toby!”

Duke froze. Viola’s nose slammed into his arm. She didn’t need to see Isabel. There was no mistaking the heavy rose-and-gardenia perfume the older woman used as her ‘signature’ scent. It burned the back of her throat and deadened her sense of smell.

“Hello, Mom,” Toby greeted politely. When his mother wrapped both arms around his neck, he didn’t relinquish his hold on Viola’s hand. The awkwardness of the embrace made it possible for him to break it sooner than his mother intended.

“Oh darling, you look wonderful.” Isabel patted his cheek. Tears sparkled in her pale blue eyes. The pastel pink gown that seemed to be nothing more than layers and layers of silk and chiffon reminded Duke of a tiered cake.

“You look great, too, Mom.” Floundering for something to say to keep the conversation going, he glanced around for his step-father. “Where is Pete?”

“I bent one of my wings. He’s off getting a replacement.” She giggled girlishly, swept an arm towards two watercolors on a nearby wall. “This is my fairy collection, so I chose to dress in character.” She patted the sparkly, diamond-studded tiara secured to her blonde head.

Viola popped up on her toes to reach Duke’s ear. “She knows fairies have fangs, right?”

“Oh?” Isabel gasped, pressed a hand to her heart theatrically. “Who’s this? You brought a date, Toby?”

“Mom, you remember Viola, don’t you?” Duke gave Viola a small shove in his mother’s direction.

“The Ashwood girl?” Isabel’s bright smile dimmed. She eyed Viola speculatively. “It is good to see you again, dear.”

“You too, Mrs. Carrington.”

“Toby, darling,” Isabel turned her attention back to her son, “whatever happened to that lovely Candace? I enjoyed our lunch together last spring.”

Viola snorted. She slapped a hand across her mouth to contain her laughter. Duke’s warning growl went ignored. “Candi? Fake tan, bleach blonde hair, blindingly white teeth?”

Isabel nodded dumbly.

"Candi!" Viola shook her head in disgust. “I can't believe you took a stripper to lunch with your mother.”

“Is that true, darling?” Isabel frowned. Viola was certain her forehead would have wrinkled had it not been recently Botoxed.

“I’m not seeing Candi any more Mom. It was a phase.” He squeezed Viola’s hand to keep her from giving anything else away. A plan sparked in his head. There was a way to get his mother off his back with a minimal amount of fuss. He smiled adoringly down at Viola. “I’ve moved on to better things.”

Viola was as confused as Isabel. Pretending to be a couple hadn’t been part of the plan. Before she could drag Duke aside to ask him what the hell he was doing, Isabel latched onto Viola’s free arm. Her smile was as false as half the breasts in the room.

“Oh, darling, I’m so glad that you’re settling down. Peter and I have been worried about you.” She tittered brightly. “Just remember that I’m too young for grandchildren.”

Viola paled. Duke kissed the top of her head. He’d have to alter his mother’s memory before he left the gallery, but it was a small price to pay for a night of peace. Fortunately, Viola was easily bribable.

“Come along, Viola, dear. I want to introduce you to a few of Peter’s associates and hear all about what you’ve been up to. How is your poor mother, by the way? Such a tragedy about your father. You know…”

Duke released Viola’s hand as his mother dragged her into the swarm of people. She craned her neck to glare fiercely at him. “You owe me for this, Tobias.”

He grinned, tucked his thumbs into his belt loops. “I know, sweetheart, I know.”

New Project

2011-03-24T15:08:00.001-05:00

No, no, put down the pitchforks. I am still ~~toiling daily~~ working on MMM, but the muse (~~like me~~) is fickle. This idea is one that has been bouncing around in my skull for over a year. I wanted to wait until I was finished with the Network-verse to start this, but I realized I may never be finished with the Network. I simply love it too much.

My project's working title is Cordelia Finn's Guide to Saving the Universe (Without Sacrificing Your Sense of Style). Yeah, it's long. I'm working on that. :) It has aliens, spoiled socialites, goofball younger brothers, and did I mention aliens? Sci-fi... here I come!

Oh, what's that? You want a preview? Of course I can ~~ram one down your throat~~ give you one:

"This is not a booty call!"

Tad Jennings gaped at the red-faced, flashing-eyed blonde whirlwind pushing past him into the condo. She looked like his Cordelia Finn, but he couldn't be sure. She could have been cloned or had an emergency lobotomy or a chip implanted in her skull. He'd seen far, far stranger things.

"I mean it," she continued when he failed to respond. Her finger, short nails painted a pale pink, tapped the end of his nose. "It's what all the rags are going to say this is, and I know you have the tendency to believe the hype."

"I do not!" Tad protested. The sharp, sculpted cheeks that had melted the panties of women all over the world flushed a bright red. He let the door swing shut before his neighbors heard any more fodder for the gossip magazines.

Her pink lips, not collagen-enhanced like more than one snide columnist had suggested, smirked. She lowered her hand to Tad's chest, smoothed a crease on his yellow linen shirt. "Oh, so it wasn't you who called last week to ask whether or not you were engaged to Molly Atwood?"

Well?
I'd love to hear your thoughts!

On Demons

2011-03-10T10:05:00.001-06:00

In Mistress of Malice and Mercy (the not-quite-complete last book in the Family Lies trilogy) there is a demon called the Drifdan/Chaisan. I was asked recently where I got my motivation for them. While, I admit that I honestly do not know where (or do not want to admit where) the demons in the series come from, this one is pretty easy to answer:

See the fangs on that sucker? Holy crap! Like the demons in MMM, she's a keltpo. If it crinkles or rattles or jingles, it's hers. Heaven forbid it crinkle and be shiny. That's her mid-yawn, by the way, she's not trying to attack anyone. Also, the demons are quite vain - Vi uses a mirror to distract them. Where did that come from? The klepto kitty who stares at herself in the mirror all the time. Yes, I serenade her with the Carly Simon song all the time.

So... there you have it. Inspiration can come from anywhere - even Subway bag stealing, yawning cats.

What's your inspiration?

Mansuetude, A House of Veadra short

2011-02-28T16:06:00.000-06:00

Post Fall of the House of Veadra. Spoilers abound (though nothing you shouldn’t have seen coming)

mansuetude: n, mildness; gentleness. [from the Latin mansuescere – “to tame by the hand”]

---

“Astra, darling?” Juliana gestured for Marcus, her bodyguard turned lover, to open the door wide enough for her wheelchair. Having gotten no response from her baby sister, the former queen rolled herself further into the dimly lit office. “If you don’t answer me right this minute, I’m going to have Marcus find Zed and drag him up here.”

“’m here!” a faint, familiar voice called out from behind the massive mahogany desk.

Juliana kissed Marcus’ smooth cheek and waited until he had closed the door behind him to move towards the desk. She traced her fingertips across the gently curved corners. She had loved the desk, the feeling of power that came from sitting behind it. She flicked the switch on the ornate glass lamp, but there was no sign of Queen Astra of Avedra.

Something tapped one of her chair’s wheels. Juliana glanced down. Small, bare, cyan-tipped toes were curled around the wheel’s spokes. “What are you doing under your desk, little sister?”

“Hiding.”

Juliana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Summoning a bit of her flagging reserves of magic, she zapped the toes with a tiny jolt of electricity. Astra yelped; the foot disappeared under the desk. A blonde head appeared a moment later. Violet-tinged brown eyes, the same eyes every Veadra daughter inherited, glared up at her.

“What are you hiding from, Az?”

“The Council of Peers. I may have walked out of the meeting after telling all of them to screw themselves.”

“Why would you do that, Astra? I know it was your third meeting with them, but you cannot simply walk out when you disagree with something they have to say.” Juliana sighed and tapped the top of her sister’s head disapprovingly. She remembered her third day as queen and how stressful it had been, but she’d never walked out of a meeting or lost her temper. If Astra was going to be the monarch Juliana knew she could be, she needed to control her impulses.

“If you had heard…” A growl rumbled in Astra’s chest. She shook her head, wrinkled her nose. “They’re lucky I didn’t have Zed shoot them.”

Juliana grinned. Her sister’s Commandant of the Royal Forces did come across as the “shoot first, ask later” type of person and he was apparently quite devoted to the queen. Though she didn’t know what all had transpired between Zed and Astra during her captivity, Juliana had a sneaking suspicion that the newly-starred General Zed Browe would be performing all of the Prince Consort’s duties by year’s end.

“Duke What’s-his-name from Lower Previn brought up the fact that I do not have a Consort or an heir. He claimed our neighbors and potential enemies would perceive a single, heirless queen as weak.” Astra crawled out from under the desk, brushed dust off her tiered blue skirt. “He wants the Peers to start ‘vetting’ potential candidates. Most of them agreed with him.”

“Those bastards!” Juliana gripped the arms of her chair so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her thin lips curled back in a sneer. She regretted leaving her cane in her rooms; there were a few Peers who needed to have the sense beaten back into them.

“Whoa! Calm down before you blow a gasket, Jules.” Astra was shocked at the anger swirling around her sister. The most level-headed and compassionate of the Veadra sisters, Juliana was normally the picture of mansuetude. Astra found it amusing that she, the hot-tempered sister, had to restrain Juliana.

“Anyone who would dare call you weak is a blind, ignorant fool,” Juliana declared fiercely. Her sister was the only family she had left and she would defend Astra with her last breath. “Don’t they know that you’re the only reason the country remains intact?”

Astra wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulders and perched on the arm of the wheelchair. She propped a bare foot against the side of the desk so they didn’t tip over. Her guards already thought she was an insane, danger-magnet. The last thing she needed to do was call them in because she was pinned beneath her invalid sister and a wheelchair. She’d finally outgrown her “Disastra” nickname and was in no hurry to see it revived.

“I didn’t do it singlehanded, Jules. Zed and his men did most of the work. They didn’t let me do much on our journey here.” Astra’s lower lip puffed out at the memory. She’d spent five years as a member of the Royal Foreign Army yet the squadron of men had kept her hidden away like a weak, defenseless child.

“They had to protect you, darling. Without you, there would have been no one to fight…” Juliana swallowed back a sob. Though he’d been dead for weeks, she couldn’t bring herself to say her husband’s name. She didn’t miss the sister-killing, throne-stealing bastard one bit, but the memory of his last day was unbearably painful. She’d almost lost Astra and Marcus.

“I don’t need protection!”

The guard stationed just outside the door coughed. Astra glared at the door. Why did putting a crown on someone’s head automatically turn them into a fragile creature that needed to be sheltered? Why was she weak because she didn’t have a husband? Couldn’t they remember how the last royal marriage turned out? Ashamed by her last thought, her cheeks flushed guiltily. She patted Juliana’s hand, prayed her sister couldn’t read her thoughts.

“Honestly, Az, all you need to do is stop playing coy and tell Zed you want him to be your Consort. That’ll take care of the Peers and those disgustingly sappy looks you two keep giving each other at every meal.”

Astra Veadra, Queen of Aveda, former member of the Royal Foreign Army, and savior of her homeland, fell off the wheelchair.

Review of The Liberation of Alice Love

2011-02-28T08:14:00.003-06:00

The Liberation of Alice Love by Abby McDonald

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I could not put this book down. No lie. After several duds, The Liberation of Alice Love restored my faith in reading for pleasure.

The opening paragraph was unexpectedly wonderful and had me hooked. How can you not be hooked with it starts with a vibrator? A vibrator, people! It seemed that the book started a little slow and bogged with mundane (at the time) details, but it soon became apparent that the buildup was necessary. The identity of the thief was a brilliant surprise.

This book did an excellent job of showing how identity theft affects a person and how much of a mess is left to clean up. Alice's heartbreak at being betrayed is written so well that you feel it too. I admit that after the first third of the book I wanted to check my bank statement and credit report. I might have even locked my file cabinet.

Alice herself is a great character. She's perfectly flawed and engaging enough that you appreciate the way she slowly changes. Rather than let the setbacks ruin her life, she wallows for a moment then sets out to reclaim her life. She's strong but not unbelievably so.

The cast of secondary characters are all well-developed and each sparkle in their own way. The sister was my favorite with her hidden depth and her evolving relationship with Alice. I thought the romance might have been more of a focal point in the story, but it is so nicely woven into the tale that it works.

I found this to be a delightful story of a woman reclaiming her life after betrayal and theft but deciding the same old routines no longer work. Her struggles, self-doubt, and eventual resolution are immensely relatable. Who doesn't want the chance to live a more exciting life - even for one night?

Though the middle dragged slightly for a few chapters and I would have liked to see more of the romantic side of the story, I utterly loved this book and cannot wait to pass it along.

Think I was kidding about the vibrator? I wasn't. Here's how it starts:

"It began with a vibrator. A smooth, stainless steel, jewel-encrusted vibrator that—according to the ribbon-trimmed user manual—cost over seven hundred pounds. Even Alice, who valued her orgasms as much as the next woman, had to wonder what delirious pleasures it could possibly deliver to justify that kind of expense."

See... how can you pass that up?

Disclaimer: I received this book through Goodreads First Reads.

View all my reviews

On Ghosts

2011-02-18T09:20:00.004-06:00

It may come as no surprise that I adore ghosts stories. I'll read them, watch stories of true hauntings (Celebrity Ghost Stories is my not-so-secret addiction), and even watch ~~dorks~~ people hunt ghosts on ~~scripted~~ live television. You might find all this odd because I really don't like horror movies. I generally don't like to be scared... you could say that I'm scared of being scared (but don't say that because it just sounds silly).

Like Viola, I am always looking for haunted hotels or vacation destinations, I just do it for a very different reason. She has a whole business devoted to helping people scare the hell out of themselves on vaction. I have a list of places I am never going to stay.

I didn't just wake up one morning and decide to start the list. Ooohh no. There was a reason. A very good reason. A few years ago we went on a weekend getaway to Galveston and booked a room at a wonderful bed and breakfast. It was charming and the owners were lovely and we were so glad to be out of the city. We spent the day exploring Galveston, had dinner, and were utterly exhausted when we returned to the room. I was looking forward to sleeping in the soft, bed.

Neither of us got much sleep that night (and no, not for fun reasons). The light switch in the bathroom flipped on and off all night. No, the light didn't flicker, the switch flipped. The A/C should have been running constantly because we had it on "fan" to circulate air. Uhh... no. It went off and on. JT got up to turn it on to "Max." As soon as he turned back around to return to bed, the dial turned to "off." Which was okay, I suppose, because the room was cold. There were soft moans, and tugs on the blankets, an armoire door that opened and wouldn't stay shut, and the general feeling that we weren't alone in the room.

The next morning, we went down the main staircase (which we had missed earlier because our room had an outdoor staircase and entrance) and JT saw a couple of framed articles on the B&B's ghosts. Damn. I resolved right then and there to always do research before staying anywhere. The other guests shared their stories over breakfast and we laughed about it. We stayed there another night, experienced the same things, and I swore I would never stay anywhere "haunted" again.

So, in a way, that's how I came up with Viola's Spirited Stays. I figured if I was making lists of where not to stay, there were crazy people who would want to do the opposite.

What about you? Have you stayed anywhere haunted? Had a paranormal experience of your own? Do you love ghosts are terrified of seeing one?

Review: Forsaken by Shadow by Kait Nolan

2011-02-15T10:48:00.000-06:00

Forsaken By Shadow by Kait Nolan

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I really enjoyed this novella. The world created and debuted in this novella is absolutely fascinating; I can't wait to learn more about the Mirus and explore Kait Nolan's playground. The characters are strong and surprisingly well-developed for a novella. Embry is both the typical strong, kick-ass PNR female, but her emotions draw you in and you feel some of her pain. My only complaint was that the transition to the flashback scene was a little jolting and I found myself scrolling forward to make sure I hadn't missed anything, but once I realized what was going on, it was easy to dive back into the story.

For wonderfully fast-paced, descriptive action, brilliant characters, and an exciting new world I highly recomment this novella to anyone wanting to dip their toes into indie books.

Looking to buy your own copy (do it! do it!)? Here's the link to it at Amazon and BN

February 2002 - Olivia, Viola

2011-02-14T08:32:00.000-06:00

Happy Valentine's Day!

February 2002

For only the second time in her life, Olivia Ashwood had her radio turned up as loud as it would go. She wasn’t concerned about a noise complaint. It was a Thursday night, but her dorm was practically empty. Everyone was out. She should have been out. She’d been looking forward to it for three weeks; she’d even found the perfect dress for the evening with the perfect pair of cute matching sandals. Instead of indulging in pasta and sinfully rich dessert at her favorite downtown restaurant, she was stuck in her dorm with Fiona Apple, leftover Chinese takeout, and her flannel pajamas.

The insistent, annoying vibrations coming from under her pillow dragged her out of her pity party. She fished her cell phone out of the tangle of blankets and bedding, scowled at the still-vibrating machine. Her sister’s name flashed on the screen. Irritation sparked. What mess had Viola gotten into this time?

“What, Vi?”

“While I am really, and I do mean really, proud of you for embracing your inner emo, I’ve been knocking on your door for three minutes. Think you can open up?”

Olivia’s fluffy bunny slippers made no sound on the carpeted floor as she stalked across the small room to fling open the door. Viola offered a strained smile; her shoulder brushed Olivia’s when she stepped inside. She carefully dropped her backpack onto the bed and moved towards the stereo.

“I’m cool with Fiona and if you wanna switch to Alanis, that’s fine. You pop a Sarah McLachlan in there, though, and I’m out of here. This is officially a tear-free zone.” Viola skipped to the next song on the CD before turning to her stunned sister. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before impulsively yanking Olivia into a tight bear hug.

“What are you doing here? Vi… Vi, honey, I need to breathe…” Olivia croaked when her sister’s arms tightened painfully around her ribs. She greedily sucked in oxygen and blinked the clear the spots from her vision.

Viola shrugged, plopped onto the edge of the bed next to her backpack. She busied herself with unzipping the bag and piling items on the quilt. “You didn’t take me up on my offer to chop off Eric Granger’s balls and feed them to him, so this is plan B. You’ve got the angry chick music so I brought the rest of the party favors. Chocolate.” She handed Olivia a large, red heart-shaped box filled with gourmet chocolates.

A small smile crept onto Olivia’s face. “Thanks, kiddo.”

“I’ve got two more. By the end of the night neither of us is going to want to see another piece of chocolate.” Viola pulled a bottle of wine out of the backpack and set it on Olivia’s nightstand along with two plastic wine glasses. “A little something to numb the pain.”

“Viola!” Olivia clucked her tongue disapprovingly. She held out her hand expectantly. “Let me see it.”

“See what?”

“The fake i.d.”

“What fake i.d.?” Viola offered up her most angelic face. As usual, it had no affect on Olivia.

“The one Sebastian had a vision about two weeks ago. I thought he took it away from you.”

Viola grinned. “He did. It’s okay because I didn’t really like the picture on that one.”

“Vi…” Olivia crossed her arms, arched an eyebrow.

Viola rolled her eyes, untied her knee-high black boots, and shoved them under the bed. “It’s not like I’m going to use to go on a bender or anything. All the best bands play in bars and stuff, I just need the i.d. to get in and see them. I swear.”

“And the wine?” Olivia uncrossed her arms and reached for the bottle. It was a surprisingly decent merlot. She retrieved her corkscrew from the nightstand drawer.

Viola’s grin brightened. “Stole it from Sebastian. He bought it for his date with Amy. I left a note on his steering wheel this morning, he’ll understand that it’s for a good cause.” She poked Olivia’s calf with her toes. “Open it up already.”

Olivia eyed her speculatively. “One glass for you and you’re staying the night. The last think you need is a DUI. We just got that social worker off our back.”

“Figured you’d say that. I brought a change of clothes and something to sleep in. Forgot my pillow, though.”

“I’ve got that bag of bathroom stuff you left last time. You should be set.”

Olivia uncorked the wine and filled both plastic glasses. She grabbed the remote for the stereo and settled on the bed with her sister. Propped up by pillows, they were hip-to-hip; Olivia’s bunny slippers looked normal next to Viola’s pink skull-and-crossbones toe socks. Olivia picked an oval-shaped chocolate from the open box balanced on their thighs.

Viola glanced around the room. All of the cutesy pictures of Eric, Olivia’s boyfriend since the previous summer, were gone along with the ticket stubs and mementos that had been stuck to the bulletin board. Her eyes fell on the box of conversation hearts on Olivia’s desk.

“Sebastian dropped off his present, huh?”

Olivia snorted into her wine glass. “Just like every year. You think he’ll ever remember that we hate those stupid candies?”

“Nope,” Viola responded. “I found my box of heart-shaped chalk in my backpack this morning. It is kind of sweet, I guess. Would be sweeter if it was something I’d actually eat, though.”

“You didn’t dump them in the trash again, did you?”

“No way, I learned my lesson last time. He sulked for a week.” Viola giggled impishly. “It took me ten minutes, but I changed my name in the little ‘to’ box so that it said ‘Duke’ and stuck it in Duke’s mailbox on my way home from school.”

Olivia’s jaw dropped. Laughter bubbled in her chest. She set her wine glass on the nightstand and slapped a hand over her mouth. “You mean Duke found a box of candy conversation hearts in his mailbox that said, ‘To: Duke, From: Sebastian’?”

“Yep.”

Olivia’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. “I’d love to hear that phone call.”

“Me too.” Viola sighed wistfully. “I’m sure I’ll hear the highlights later, but it won’t be the same.”

They ate and drank without speaking. Viola’s toes twitched in time with the music. Olivia slowly chewed a raspberry crème filled chocolate and stared at the blank spot on her wall where a picture of Eric in a Santa hat had once been tacked. Tears stung her eyes.

“I just wanted a normal relationship, you know?” Olivia swallowed the chocolate and licked a dab of crème off her lip. Her head drooped so that her ear hovered over Viola’s shoulder. “I didn’t use my gift on him; I didn’t want… I wanted to have the kind of relationship everyone else has, one where I didn’t know what he was feeling before he knew he was feeling it. I wanted to be surprised.”

Viola clenched her teeth so hard her jaw ached. She regretted letting Sebastian talk her out of slashing Eric the Bastard’s tires and breaking his nose. As an older sister Olivia was annoying and nosy as hell, but she was also the kindest person Viola knew. She didn’t deserve to be dumped the day before Valentine’s Day in front of her entire Organic Chemistry lab.

Olivia choked back a sob and gulped her wine. “I guess I was surprised all right.”

Viola pressed Olivia’s head onto her shoulder and brushed a loose strand of blonde hair off her sister’s flushed cheek. “He’s a jerk and a moron and should have been grateful you even bothered to speak to him. It’s not your fault he was too stupid to see how wonderful you are.”

“I really, really liked him, Vi. I was falling in love with him.” Fat tears rolled down her cheeks and onto Viola’s black long-sleeved t-shirt. She sniffled, squeezed her eyes shut. “I was… God, Vi… tonight I was going to…”

Viola growled. Not only did she not want to her about her sister’s sex life, but she really wanted to break every bone in Eric the Bastard’s body. She kissed Olivia’s forehead and carefully slid out from under her. While Olivia wiped her eyes and blew her nose, Viola climbed on top of the desk and expertly disarmed the smoke alarm.

“What are you doing, Vi?” Olivia frowned. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“Matt taught me.”

“Which one’s Matt?” Olivia tried to keep up with Viola’s friends, but the younger girl never brought them by the house and rarely spoke on the phone in front of others. The only one she knew fairly well was Viola’s best friend Aaron. “The one with the tongue ring?”

“Nah, that’s Joe. Matt’s the one with the nose ring and the shaved head.” Viola hopped off the desk and dug a cheap plastic lighter out of her pocket. “I borrowed this from him after school.”

Olivia’s eyes widened comically. She knew Viola ran with a different crowd but had always trusted her sister to use common sense. “I’m not smoking with you, Vi! You’re not smoking with you, either! When did you pick that up?”]

Viola blinked, flicked the lighter. “Uh… never. Like I’d do something that stupid. Do you know what it would do to my times? Not to mention Coach would kill me deader than dead. Plus, the smell would make it pretty impossible to be stealthy when Tracking.”

“Oh,” Olivia sighed, feeling like an idiot, “okay. What’s the lighter for then?”

“Grab your big glass bowl. We’re going to burn everything you have that reminds you of the bastard.”

Olivia refilled both wine glasses. She grabbed a bottle of water while Viola prepped the mini-bonfire. She felt a small tear in her heart heal when Viola touched the lighter to the edge of a photograph. They held hands as the flames engulfed paper, photos, and a couple of cut-up t-shirts. By the time the pile was nothing more than ashes, Olivia still hurt but didn’t feel like wallowing in misery.

“Thanks for this, Vi. It was perfect. Very sweet, in a you kind of way.”

“Nada problemo, sis.” Viola shrugged off Olivia’s praise. “Just promise that the next time a guy breaks your heart you’ll let me punch him in the face.”

Olivia grinned, slung an arm around Viola’s shoulders. “It’s a deal.”

Who ordered this and can I return it?

2011-02-13T21:15:00.000-06:00

Review of "Possession" by Rosalie Stanton

2011-02-11T06:01:00.000-06:00

With all this cold weather, I haven't had the motivation to do much of anything but read. I thought I'd share another of my favorite e-books with the rest of you.

Possession by Rosalie Stanton

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Don't be put off by the cliche-ish "oh the ____ turned us into sex fiends" premise. Rosalie Stanton is a master at making you forget all pre-conceived notions and fall in love with her characters. Since there is already a good synopsis, I will just tell you what I loved about this book: the characters and the amazing sex scenes. On every page you feel like you are right there with them because they are so brilliantly developed and have such clear voices. As for my other favorite? Well, you'll just have to read and enjoy. I do wish there had been a little mire action of the non-steamy kind, but that didn't detract from my love for this book at all.

View all my reviews

2 Print Copies of "Daughter of Deception" Giveaway at Goodreads

2011-02-10T17:13:00.000-06:00

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Daughter of Deception

by Kara Thorpe

Giveaway ends February 28, 2011.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter to win

How I spent my "snow day"

2011-02-04T12:57:00.000-06:00

Cuddled up with Chai clearing off the DVR

Trowel - A House of Veadra side-story

2011-01-31T09:10:00.000-06:00

For those of you familiar with my little House of Veadra series, this is a side-story that fits in between Juliana's story and Astra's. There are a few spoilers, but nothing that you shouldn't have seen coming.
For those of you not familiar, this is just a little fantasy/royalty series that helps take my mind off the Ashwood-induced mental blocks. You can read the side-stories as stand-alones or, if requested, I can put up links to the main stories.

Don't worry... there's more of Duke and Viola coming very soon!

(Post-The Fall of the House of Veadra and mid-Triumph of the House of Veadra)

Astra loved her garden. It wasn’t a very large plot of land, just a few square feet tucked away from palace tourists and visiting nobility. She’d argued for hours with Pierre, the head gardener, until Zed had reminded her that it was her property. Pierre had finally stopped complaining about the loss of land, but he drew the line at lending her any tools or seeds. The wild flowers and herbs she grew couldn’t match the splendor or fragrance of Pierre’s carefully tended gardens, but it was a place she could relax and… ground herself… so to speak. She needed an outlet for the influx of magic that followed Lissy’s death and to work out the frustrations that came with being queen.

She was understandably annoyed when a pair of polished black boots trod carelessly over her blooming tiger pansies one sunny summer afternoon. She balled her fists, prepared to give the intruder a very large, very angry piece of her mind until she heard a heart-stoppingly familiar click. Her blood froze.

Hands clasped to hide their trembling, she sat back on her heels and straightened her shoulders. “How did you get past the guards?”

“I slit their throats.”

She blinked, swallowed back a wave of grief. There would be time later to mourn their passing. “If they don’t report in every fifteen minutes an alarm is sounded.”

“I won’t need that long, Majesty.” The would-be assassin’s voice dripped with disdain. Flat black eyes studied the slender young woman at his mercy. It was a pity he didn’t have time to fully enjoy their time together. His lips curved upwards in a sinister sneer. Finally, the House of Veadra would fall for good.

Before his finger could squeeze the trigger, she wrapped her hand around the trowel and drove the pointed tip into the side of his knee. While he grabbed his injured knee, she wrestled the gun from his grip. With in a matter of seconds, their positions had been reversed. She kept the gun trained on a spot between his eyes; her hand didn’t shake.

“You should probably have remembered just which daughter of Veadra I am,” she observed dryly. “Being a princess wasn’t all etiquette lessons and fancy balls.”

Guards poured out of the palace and into her garden. She winced as they trampled her precious plants. So much for a fresh bouquet of wild flowers on the table for her dinner with the Grand Duke of Olysia. Norris, her head bodyguard, slipped the gun from her fingers.

“We’ll take him from here, Your Majesty.”

“Lewis and Morris, they were on duty at the door, he said he killed them.”

“Yes ma’am. Their bodies are being taken to the morgue. As soon as we’ve moved this scum to the dungeon, I will inform their families.”

Astra shook her head. “I’ll do it.”

“Az!” Zed, panting and red-faced, pushed past the throng of guards and wrapped his tree-trunk arms around her waist. Sharp eyes quickly scanned her for injuries. “What happened?”

“Security breach. Attempted assassination.” Astra shrugged a shoulder. “Total decimation of my pansies.”

“Oh, Az,” he breathed. He’d never met anyone, royalty or not, who had so little disregard for their own safety. He loved her desperately, but he was glad she was Norris’ headache most of the day. He much preferred heading the Avedran Royal Army. At least he could count on soldiers to follow orders. Despite her time in the military, it had never been Astra’s strong point.

“I’m going to visit the bodies of Lewis and Morris in the morgue, and then I am going to call on their families. They died in my service; they deserve nothing less than the utmost respect.” She glared at both men fiercely, daring them to argue. They wisely kept quiet.

“Would you like me to go with you, sweetheart?” He was loathe to let her out of his sight, but Zed knew that Astra preferred to grieve in solitude.

“No. I’ve got this.” She glanced over at the assassin and the wooden handle sticking out of his leg. She winced. Pierre had grudgingly given her the tool, and there was no way she was going to use it again. “I am going to need a new trowel, though. Do you think you could ask Pierre for one? Pretty please?”

Three Lies and a Truth (4/4) -- January 2009 - Duke/Viola

2011-01-12T08:47:00.000-06:00

And, here's the truth.

January 2009

“What time are you coming home?”

“I’m not.”

Duke paused, one hand on the refrigerator door, and pulled the phone away from his ear. He scowled at it as if the woman on the other end of the line could see him. “The hell?”

“Stop glaring and check the calendar, dork.”

The laughter in Viola’s voice did nothing to soothe his rattled nerves. He walked around a dozing Finn and squinted at the calendar tacked to the side of a cabinet. He wasn’t used to calendars. Aside from Network rotation scheduling, he’d never had to keep track of where he was going or what he was doing. The calendar was Viola’s idea, which made him laugh because she the most chaotic, impulsive person he knew. She’d insisted, though, on jotting down every appointment in tiny letters and nagging him until he did the same.

‘Dinner with A’ was written in the small box for that day. His scowl deepened. Why did she have to rely on the calendar? Couldn’t she simply have told him about her dinner plans? Who was ‘A’ anyway?

“Who’re you having dinner with, Vi?”

“Aaron.”

Duke exhaled noisily, counted to ten. He reminded himself that throttling his wife was a no-no. “Who?”

“Aaron Montemayor,” she said. “My best friend in high school. My one Network recruit.”

“Blue Mohawk dude!”

“Yeah, you know he got rid of that right after graduation, right?” Viola paused, hummed under her breath. “I guess he didn’t figure it would go over well in El Paso.”

Duke flushed and clamped down on their mental link. If Viola knew that he’d been the one to banish her best friend, the kid who’d clung to her like a puppy, to the other end of the state she’d kill him. It didn’t feel right to claim that jealousy had prompted him to assign Aaron to El Paso, but something had urged him to get the kid as far from Viola as possible.

“I guess not,” Duke responded once he’d cleared the lump from his throat.

“Anyway, it’ll be good to see him. We’ve kept up through e-mail and phone calls, but it’s been a couple of years since our last face-to-face convo.” Viola’s happiness was evident in her tone. A flare of jealousy burned in Duke’s gut. He was the only one supposed to make her sound that way.

“Sounds like you miss him.”

“Yeah.” Viola sighed wistfully. “I guess I do.”

Duke’s fist clenched, the phone’s plastic casing creaked. A growl rumbled in his chest. “Vi…”

“Hey, wow, it’s later than I thought. I need to run up to my apartment and change clothes before I meet A. I’ll call you on my way home, okay?”

“Whatever.” Blown off for a friend. A guy friend. A guy friend who’d had a crush on her so evident Sebastian had commented on it. Duke briefly considered using the GPS tracker in her phone to follow her and spy on her ‘dinner’ with Aaron the potential wife stealer.

“Hey,” she snapped, having caught his last thought. “I love you.”

That made him feel marginally better. “I know.”

“Tobias.”

“I love you, too.” Duke grinned. Take that, Mohawk boy! “Brat.”

Three hours later, he was ready to act on his earlier idea. He had to sit on his hands to keep himself from reaching for his laptop. A blast of cold air across his face distracted him from clock’s ticking second hand. His heart sank. His father had stopped by to visit, but the ghost-to-human translator was out. With her friend.

“Sorry, Dad. Vi’s not home.” He sighed dejectedly, before inspiration struck. He turned his head towards the lingering cold spot. “You could go see her, though. Just… check up on her, you know.”

Icy air whipped across his face. He frowned. “She’s having dinner with a friend, Dad. A male friend. An old male friend.” Another shockingly cold blast of air stung his cheeks. “Please?”

The air disappeared. Duke didn’t know if his father had gone in search of Viola to spy on her or to tattle. Knowing his father, his money was on tattling. Duke sank deeper into the couch cushions. He might as well get used to the couch. It would undoubtedly be his sleeping spot for the next couple of days.

Two hours after his father’s short visit, Duke’s phone rang. He scrambled for it with a haste that, had anyone been home to see it, would have been embarrassing. Viola’s name flashed on the screen. He pressed the button to accept the call and held the phone up to his ear braced for a tongue-lashing.

“Tobias,” Viola gasped.

Duke’s heart shot to his throat. He couldn’t tell if it was a good gasp or a bad gasp. Was she injured? Hurt? In a car accident? Being mugged? Being kissed breathless by her former friend?

“Get to the corner of Crosstimbers and 45 right now,” she instructed, voice raspy with a tinge of giddiness.

“Why?” Duke shot out of the chair. He shoved his feet into his boots, quickly tied the laces, and grabbed his jacket off the rack beside the door. He snatched his keys off the small table as well as his favorite gun. It would do for demons and wife-kissing old friends.

“Dliains. Three of them. Come on!”

They weren’t on rotation, but he knew the pair on schedule had been called out to a sighting in Galveston. He wasn’t sure how Viola had known that, but he didn’t care. There were demons near his wife. She could take care of herself, but… “I’ll be there in a few.”

“Cool.”

He found her perched on her SUV’s rear bumper. She held out her gloved hands when he was within arm’s reach and tilted her face up for a kiss. Gentleman that his father had raised him to be, he obliged his lovely wife. She tasted like dark chocolate and pinot noir. His lips thinned. Dessert and wine? What happened to friends meeting over pizza or hamburgers? And why was she wearing a skirt?

Oblivious to Duke’s mounting anger, Viola pointed towards a dark side street. “They went down there. There are three foreclosed houses at the end of the block. I think that’s where they’re hiding out.”

“Aaron’s a Tracker and is probably closer. Why didn’t you call him when you spotted them?”

Viola cocked her head to the side and arched an eyebrow. Was he upset that she’d called him? “I saw a demon and I called you.” Perplexed, she shrugged. “Instinct, I guess.”

The knot in Duke’s stomach eased. Her first instinct was to call him. He could work with that. “How was your dinner?”

“Absolutely wonderful.” A bright smile lit up her face. She rested her cheek on his shoulder. “I didn’t realize just how much I’ve missed A until I saw him. It was as easy to talk to him as it was when we were kids. We could have sat there for hours.”

The knot tightened. He was easy to talk to, wasn’t he? They had conversations and comfortable silences and their own private jokes. Aside from questionable fashion-sense and horrid taste in music, Aaron didn’t have anything Duke couldn’t offer Viola.

A small hand slapping his shoulder snapped him out of his reverie. He glared down at his wife. “What was that for?”

“Telling your dad to come spy on my dinner with A.”

“Oh.” He winced when she hit him in the same spot again. “What the hell was that one for?”

“Sending A to El Paso. He didn’t know anyone out there and his family lives here. We always need Trackers in Houston. What was wrong with you?” Her hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion. “It wasn’t because of me, was it?”

“He was in love with you!” The words burst from Duke’s lips before he could stop them. He kicked himself for sounding like a jealous idiot. The last thing he needed to do was give Viola ammunition to use against him.

“Yeah.” Viola wrinkled her nose. “He got over that towards the end of senior year. It was a good thing, too. I hated hurting him like that.” She chewed on her lip and stared at him through her lashes. “You were worried about me having dinner with him tonight?”

“You two were best friends. You brought him into the Network. He… you ran track together, and you had all your little goth jokes, and he listens to the same music you do. I might have been a little concerned. Justifiably concerned.”

“You are such a dork.” Viola chuckled as she playfully punched his arm. “Don’t you know that I’ve been yours since you hit that demon with the baseball bat and pulled the Lefla spike out of my toe?”

Duke flushed guiltily. He did know that. At the time it had made him slightly uncomfortable, but looking back he felt flattered and a tad ashamed. Viola hadn’t bothered disguising her feelings while he’d ignored what was right in front of him. “I’m sorry, sweetness. For now and then.”

Having followed his leaps of logic through their link, she shook her head and patted his cheek. “Don’t make me sound like a saint, Tobias. While it’s always been you, I can’t say I haven’t been tempted a time or two.”

“Charlie,” he guessed, remembering that the deceased Tracker had been her prom date.

“Mmm-hmm,” she agreed, smile growing. “And there was that summer Jeremy Whittier trained with Max before going overseas. I was totally in lust with him. Those abs and that rich, bad boy vibe? Yum-my.”

“Viola!”

She giggled happily. “Oh, please. I had to live through your Candis and Mandys and Lisas and Jennys. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

He growled, but didn’t complain. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to the warm skin behind his ear. “I have never, in my life, loved anyone more than I love you, Tobias Duke, and I never will.”

Duke nodded. He wanted to respond, but couldn’t get his vocal cords to work. He hoped she felt his overwhelming love through their link. He turned his head and captured her lips for another taste of chocolate and pinot noir. The combination was growing on him.

“Now,” he murmured against her lips when they broke for oxygen, “about those demons…”

Three Lies and a Truth (3/4) - Viola/Duke December 2007

2011-01-10T08:26:00.000-06:00

December 2007

Viola knew better than to follow whatever weird instincts she’d developed since… since… then… but when she drank tequila common sense was always the first thing she lost. Followed shortly, of course, by her mental filter, her coordination, and, embarrassingly enough, her clothes. She glanced down at her long black coat and buttoned it up to her neck. Better safe than sorry.

She kept her back plastered against the side of the building as she followed the low growls of a pair of Flians into a damp alley. She cursed herself for leaving her Network phone in the hotel room she called home. Not that she was sure it worked anymore. Undoubtedly Duke had deactivated hers within hours of her brother and sister quitting the Network.

She hadn’t voiced her resignation, but that didn’t matter. She couldn’t be part of the Network. Tracking demons led to fathers disappearing, demonic possessions, years of uncertainty, living out of a suitcase, and… and… oh sweet mercy. She sagged against the rough bricks as a fresh wave of sorrow threatened to buckle her knees. She pressed a hand against her mouth to stem the sob burbling in her throat.

Once she was certain she wouldn’t make any sound, she shoved her hands in her pockets without looking at them. Logically she knew her hands were clean, but every time she saw her fingers she expected them to be covered with blood. With Amy’s blood.

At the sound of heavy footsteps, she stiffened. Viola craned her neck around the corner of the building. A familiar flash of blond hair moved in and out of her line of sight. A small smile tugged at her lips. Duke. It figured that he was on rotation the one night she’d dared to venture out of her room in search of something to fill the aching, gaping emptiness in her soul.

She eagerly soaked up sight of him taking down the two Flians with precise, efficient movements. Her fingers curled in her pockets as if wrapping around the dagger she no longer carried. Her feet twitched with the desire to dash down the alley and help him. She knew which pressure points rendered a Flian unconscious and how to hogtie one with a bungee cord or, if necessary, a shoelace.

She couldn’t join him, though. What if she hesitated like she had with Amy? What if she froze and the Flians hurt Duke? What if they killed him because he’d been too busy protecting a stupid, useless bag of flesh that seized up in fear? If they did survive after she froze, the disappointment sure to be in the blue eyes she adored would utterly destroy her.

No. It was best to stick to the shadows and deny her urges. It was safer for everyone that way. Maybe, someday, she could trust herself to Track again. Once she got the mess that was her life, and her head, under control, she could take baby steps towards reclaiming her ‘old’ life. The ‘old’ Viola. The one who dashed into danger without turning into a statue.

She hiccupped. The blond head at the end of the alley turned towards her. Startled blue eyes met hers. In her inebriated state, she lost control of her mental shield. She felt the familiar brush of Duke’s mind against hers. She understood the question he pressed into her brain, but turned her back on him and stumbled back towards her hotel.

“No,” she whispered to herself, though she knew he’d pick the words out of her mind, “I don’t miss it at all.”

She wondered if he believed the lie any more than she did.

Three Lies and a Truth (2/4) - Duke/Viola May 2000

2011-01-07T15:09:00.000-06:00

May 2000

Viola stared at the scuffed toes of her favorite black boots. She could feel the eyes boring into her but had no desire to meet them. It was taking all her self-control to remain in the chair and not bolt out of the room. She felt like merely being in the federal building was betraying her father.

“Hey!”

A large, familiar hand obscured her view of her boots. Fingers snapped in front of her eyes. Startled, she jerked back and raised her head. Her hazel eyes narrowed at the angry face only inches away.

“What, Toby?”

“Are you even listening?”

Viola tossed her head back, wishing for the first time in two years that she hadn’t cut all her hair off, and pursed her lips. “’Your mentor is not just there to train you on how to capture or kill demons but which demons are hostile and which are to be treated as allies. Your mentor must be obeyed at all times. Failure to do so could result in your death or the death of innocent bystanders.’”

Duke wasn’t mollified by her bland recitation. So what if she’d heard him, had she actually listened to what he and Abelardo had said? He smiled apologetically at Abelardo. Viola was his best friend’s little sister and, when she wasn’t frustrating the hell out of him, his friend. Of sorts. He felt responsible for her and for taking her seriously when she’d expressed an interest in being mentored.

He grabbed her by the elbow and hauled her out of the chair. “Come on, kiddo. I’m taking you back home.”

Viola dug in her heels. She wrapped a hand around the arm of the chair bolted to the floor. “No! Wait! Hold on, Toby, I’m sorry.” She huffed in relief when Duke stopped dragging her towards the door. “Look, I’m not a fresh off the street recruit. I’ve spent years studying with Granny and my …,” she broke off, swallowed heavily, “my father.”

Though he silently called himself a naïve fool, Duke’s eyes softened. He knew how hard her father’s disappearance had been on the kid. Six months after Gerard Ashwood had first vanished she still couldn’t say his name without breaking down. “You have to take this seriously, Vi.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“Max Sparks is the best mentor you could ask for,” Abelardo said, speaking up for the first time since Duke had interrupted his speech. “He’ll be hard on you, but he’ll teach you right.”

“Okay.” Viola glanced down at the faded carpet, blinked back tears. Even if Max Sparks was the best Tracker in the history of the Network, he was still her second choice for mentor. She and her father had spent years talking about what he’d teach her when she was old enough. It sucked beyond belief that he’d disappeared before she was considered ready for Network training.

Part of her wanted to wait to start the training. If she held out another six months, her father was bound to show up. She’d give him the cold shoulder for a day or two, forgive him, and then they could start turning those dreams into reality.

The logical part of her, however, realized that if she wanted to search for her father she needed Network training. She couldn’t get Network training without a mentor. Neither Sebastian nor Duke were experienced enough to be a mentor, so she had no alternative but to rely on who the great Network whatevers on high picked out of a hat. Max Sparks wasn’t her first choice for mentor, but she’d wring every ounce of knowledge out of him nonetheless.

“Hey.” Duke lifted her head up with a finger under her chin. His blue eyes were warm with sympathy. “We don’t have to do this now if you don’t want to, Shortcake.”

“No. It’s okay.” She shook her head. Her throat ached, every word felt like ground glass scraping across her throat. She clamped down on her mental shields so Duke wouldn’t see the truth behind her lie. “I’m ready. I want Max to be my mentor.”

Three Lies and a Truth (1/4) - Duke/Viola, September 2001

2011-01-04T12:18:00.000-06:00

September 2001

When the doorbell rang for the third time, Viola knew that the person on the porch wasn’t going to take the hint and leave. She carefully tipped her chair back just far enough to grab her crutches. Her companion winced at the loud scrape of the chair legs on the floor when she pushed away from the table. On any other night, she’d have made a snarky remark about getting what he deserved, but it wasn’t an ordinary night. It was the anniversary. She completely understood his need to get utterly wasted.

“Where ‘re you going?”

“To see what idiot thinks playing ‘Jingle Bells’ on your doorbell is fun.” She shook her head sharply, regretting the move instantly when the room spun, to stop him from rising to his feet. “Stay there. I’ve got this.”

“’S my house.”

“Do me a favor: shut up and stay in your seat.” She rolled her eyes at his petulant expression and slowly made her way out of the kitchen. She couldn’t wait to be rid of the heavy thigh-to-ankle cast. Not only would it mean she could move like a normal human being again, but she wouldn’t have to be watched constantly. Not that Duke made a great babysitter.

It was her fault Sebastian had determined that she needed sitters, though. After being so careful about hiding the fact that she wasn’t taking her pain medication, she’d slipped up. He’d lectured her for hours about pain management, stubbornness, and a loss of trust. If she’d lied to him about the ills, what else had she lied to him about?

That was why she was stuck spending the night with Duke while Sebastian was at his school’s Parent Teacher Night. Not that she hadn’t intended on spending the evening with Duke one way or another. He got depressed, drunk, and dangerous on the anniversary of his father’s death. The guy who watched out for her all the time needed someone to watch over him one night a year.

Viola’s lips thinned when she opened the door. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Duke hadn’t followed her before stepping out onto the porch and closing the door firmly behind her. “What are you doing here?”

“Is Toby home?”

“No.” Viola crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the door. She didn’t feel the slightest bit of guilt over the lie. She knew what the woman’s phone calls and voice messages did to Duke. She wasn’t about to subject him to a face-to-face confrontation. “He’s out.”

“Out?” The older blonde woman raised an eyebrow skeptically. She gestured limply towards the truck parked in front of the house. “His truck’s here.”

“He got a ride from someone.” Viola smiled tightly. She knew exactly what to say to make Isabel Duke Carrolton believe the falsehood. “Network business.”

As expected, Duke’s mother recoiled at the mention of the organization she blamed for the dissolution of her marriage, the death of her ex-husband, and her estranged relationship with Duke. “I know you, don’t I?” Isabel squinted tired eyes. “Little Viola Ashwood?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“What are you doing here if Toby’s gone?”

“He’d been helping me with some Network homework when the call came in. I can’t exactly drive myself home, so I’m waiting for my brother to pick me up.” Viola thumped on the side of her cast for emphasis. She blinked twice and offered up the guileless expression she’d spent all summer practicing on Olivia. “Did you want to leave a message for Toby? I’m sorry, Mrs. Carrolton, but I’m not supposed to stay outside too long after dark and…”

“And?”

Viola leaned forward as if sharing a secret. “Because of the reports of a shape-changer in the area, I’m not supposed to let anyone inside.” She shrugged a shoulder and bit down on her bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”

Isabel shuddered. She hated demons. She should have never returned to Houston; they seemed to be around every corner. “T-that’s okay. I’ll call him later.”

Before Viola could respond, Isabel dashed off the porch, across the yard, and into her rental car. Viola waited until the car’s taillight’s disappeared to slip back into the house. In the kitchen, she grabbed a fresh beer for Duke and a bottle of cranberry juice for herself. He looked up from the game he’d been inspecting and cocked his head to the side.

“Who was at the door, Shortcake?”

“Nobody.” Again, there was no guilt. She was sure there would be hell to pay if he ever discovered that she’d lied to his mother and to him, but she’d worry about that later. “What’s next on the Toby Duke List O’Fun?”

“This.” He set the plastic game back on the table and nudged it towards her. As a joke, he’d pulled down a box of his old toys from the attic and made a comment about ‘babysitting’ tools. He had to admit that he’d had fun playing Go Fish and Candy Land with Viola. “I don’t remember this one at all.”

“What? You have got to be joking!” She pressed a hand to her chest in mock surprise. Letting her crutches fall to the floor, she collapsed in the chair next to Duke and propped her foot up on another chair. “Okay, let me re-introduce you to the joy that is Hungry Hungry Hippos. See, the goal is to get your hippo… no! Stop it, you have to be the pink one! Okay, you have to get all the white marbles…”

Duke/Viola December 2001

2010-12-21T12:18:00.001-06:00

December 2001

Duke's backup was late. He'd called sent out a general call for assistance ten minutes earlier, but no help had arrived. He drummed his fingers on the top of the tailgate and assessed the four Xrains across the street. If he could avoid their razor-sharp claws, pointy teeth, lethal venom, spiked tails, and the red fur that always made him itch; he had a shot of taking them down. Since bullets didn't do anything but piss them off, he had to slit their throats. It would be tricky to say the least.

"On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me..." he started quietly, having decided to wait another ten minutes for a Tracker to show.

"Six Gregins growling, five silver bolts, four caged Zizks, three days rotation, two Preas prancing, and a detachable box magazine for my FN Five-Seven."

Duke hung his head at the familiar voice. He'd asked for backup and he'd gotten an overzealous rookie. Just dandy. He would have been better off taking on the Xrains by himself.

"Guess we should change that fourth part, huh?" With one foot on the hitch and the other on the rear bumper, Viola Ashwood craned her neck to see over the top of Duke's truck. "Eh, four snarling Xrains doesn't have the same jingle, you know."

"What are you doing here, Vi?"

"You called for backup. I was just sitting at home watching some stupid, sappy Christmas special on the Lifetime network." She narrowed her eyes, shoved a finger in his face. "Say a word about it to anyone and I'll rip out your spleen."

"Easy there killer. Your secret love for schmoopy romantic movies will be our little secret." Duke paused long enough for her to sigh in relief. "For a price."

"How about I not let the Xrain eat you for a late night snack?"

"You really are a pest, you know that?"

"Yeah. So?"

Duke chuckled and shook his head. She was annoying, but being around Viola was never dull. Her blunt honesty was a refreshing change from the Network politics he'd spent a week buried under. If he never had to attend another National Conference again, he'd be one happy region head.

"I've got a couple javelins in my car. If we use them to sever the... falanca-thingy...whatever it is they call that main artery in their neck," Viola suggested, brow furrowed in contemplation. She shivered when the icy wind shifted and shoved her hands in the pockets of her purple hooded sweatshirt. She regretted not grabbing her leather jacket before leaving the house.

"You shouldn't be here, kiddo."

"And yet here I am." She grinned at him and bumped his shoulder. Though Max Sparks was her Tracking mentor, she loved going out with Duke. Max was great, but Duke didn't give off those 'teacher' vibes. Plus, she'd been in love with him since she was six.

"You're only seventeen, Vi. I'm responsible if anything happens to you. Do you know what your brother would do to me if anything happened to you? And even then he'd be stuck with whatever pieces of me Olivia left behind."

"I'm not," she corrected quietly, smile slipping off her face. She turned her face away from him, blinked rapidly.

"Not what? Going to get into trouble? In case it's slipped your notice, Shortcake, that's all you manage to do."

She didn't know whether she wanted to cry or she wanted to break his nose. She pulled the fleece hood over her head and huddled against the cold metal of the truck. She would have thought that he of all people understood why she was freezing her ass off at one in the morning and willing to help him with the Xrains.

"Not seventeen. Not for a whole sixty-four minutes."

"Oh, Via-mia." Duke's hand found its way to her shoulder. He brushed his lips across the back of her head. He'd forgotten all about the time, but he hadn't forgotten her birthday. Underneath the seat in his truck was a wrapped box with two daggers inside. He'd picked out the carving for the handles with her in mind.

She nodded and smiled shakily. She was glad he'd finally caught on. Her birthday wasn't her favorite day of the year, and she'd rather spend it fighting a demon than at whatever party Olivia undoubtedly had planned for the afternoon. "So, the javelin idea sounded like a good plan, but I'm worried about how much maneuvering space we're going to have."

"That's a fair point." Duke popped open the toolbox in the back of his truck. He had a few weapons he could use, but there was one sure-fire way to put that twinkle back in Viola's eyes. "Check underneath my seat, kiddo. There's something there I think you could use?"

Viola's eyes lit up. She rarely got to touch Duke's weapons. "Really?"

"Yeah." Duke smiled to himself when she raced around the truck and flung open the door. "And grab my spare jacket. You're going to freeze to death out here. What in the hell were you thinking leaving the house without a jacket? That sweatshirt isn't going to protect you from the Xrain, either. I swear, Shortcake, you'd dash in after a Gragin with nothing but a stick if we let you."

Viola grinned as she pulled a box wrapped in shiny black paper out from underneath the seat. Presents, a demon, and Duke. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad birthday after all.

Giveaway Closed

2010-12-20T14:38:00.002-06:00

Thanks to all who entered!
The winners have been notified.
Stick around for more Duke and Viola coming soon.

Giveaway - Five Copies of The Chaos Child (e-book)

2010-12-15T07:45:00.001-06:00

To celebrate being 99.5%** finished with The Chaos Child and it's Amazon.com release, I am giving away five copies of The Choas Child through either Amazon or Smashwords (winner's preference).

Entering is super simple. All you have to do is leave a comment here - no requirements on the comment content - you can tell me what your favorite part of the series has been so far, what you didn't like in the series, which backstory you liked most, what you want to see in a future backstory (or futurestory), etc. The contest will run until Monday, December 20th. I will be e-mailing the winners, so be sure to leave your e-mail address with your comment.

For an extra entry you can drop me a note on twitter (@karahelen).

Ready for another adventure with Duke, Viola, a few new characters, and one old enemy?

After nearly killing herself weakening her demon-possessed father, all ghost-gabbing Viola Ashwood wants to do is relax with new husband Tobias Duke and take care of the demons in their region of the Network. Her plans are ruined when her estranged brother Sebastian arrives with terrible news: their sister Olivia’s missing. Daddy’s not as weak as she’d believed, mysterious gifts keep popping up on her doorstep for no apparent reason, and her brother’s addicted to a Network-banned drug. When demons start spouting prophecy about the Child of Chaos, Viola isn’t the least surprised. It’s turning out to be that kind of year.

Haven't read Daughter of Deception yet? Visit Daughter of Deception at Smashwords to get your copy (and use coupon code RV74G for an extra-special holiday/giveaway deal)

Good luck!

(***nothing is ever truly finished, you know - and there's your philosophy lesson for the day)

Christmas 2002 - Viola, Sebastian, Olivia

2010-12-14T14:43:00.001-06:00

First Christmas story for Cathy who wanted to see a little Ashwood sibling interaction.

December 2002

“On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me seven Leaud’s swimming, six Gregin’s growling, five silver bolts, four caged Zizks ….,” Viola sang as she pushed the door open with her hip.

“I’m going to kill Duke for teaching you that song.”

Viola stopped abruptly. The plastic shopping bags hanging from her wrists slapped her thighs. She grinned merrily at Sebastian before finishing the song. “Three days rotation, two Preas prancing, and a detachable box magazine for my FN Five-Seven.”

“You don’t even like guns, Vi,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the dresser.

“No, I don’t like to fire guns. I have nothing against them on principle. I can appreciate the shininess.” Viola dumped the bags at her feet and jerked her head towards the parking lot. “C’mon. There’s more in the car.”

“More?” Sebastian’s jaw dropped. He stepped over the small pile of bags and followed his sister to the trunk of his new SUV. Though he preferred driving cars over trucks and SUVs, the vehicle gave them more room during the long trips and the four-wheel drive was handy.

He gasped when he saw the bags piled up in the rear of the SUV. “Sheesh, Vi, what’d you do? Buy out the entire store?”

“Nope.” She pulled a long box free, stood it on end, and shoved it at his chest. “But I gave it my best shot.”

“No kidding.”

It took them four trips to clear out the rear of the SUV. Sebastian lined the bags up along the wall and the edge of the bed so there was a clear path to the bathroom. He tried to peek into one of the bags only to have his hands slapped away by a Santa-hat wearing Viola.

“Where’s the grouch?” she asked, nudging the bag under the bed with her foot.

“Olivia’s doing laundry like you asked her to.” Though he'd agreed that a little cheer was in order, he hadn’t enjoyed listening to Olivia’s ten-minute rant on irresponsible sisters and improperly opened ketchup packets.

“You should join her.”

Sebastian snorted. It was a well-known fact that he and laundry didn’t mix. Left to his own devices, he’d once turned an entire load of white clothes a garish shade of purple. Olivia had exempted him from all future laundry duties but had made him wear the purple shirts and socks as punishment.

“It wasn’t really a suggestion, Bas. Go keep Olivia company.” When he made no sign of moving off the bed, Viola sighed. She wrapped her arms around her middle and stared out the open curtains at the parking lot. Snow dusted the cars and the walkways. “Look, I know I’ve been a real Scrooge the past couple of Christmases, but I want to make up for it this year.”

“It’s not necessary, kiddo.”

Viola shrugged. She knew it wasn’t necessary; Olivia and Bas understood her reasons for being anti-Christmas the prior years. She needed to get out of her funk, though, and she worked better alone. “I brought my rock and roll Christmas CD.”

Sebastian grabbed his coat off the back of a chair. He pecked her cheek on his way to the door. “I think I’ll take Livy a cup of coffee.” The door slammed shut behind him.

“Works every time.”

While singing along with The Kinks and George Thorogood, Viola transformed the bland hotel room into a bright, festive holiday-spirit-palooza. She hastily wrapped the small presents she’d purchased for her siblings and placed them underneath the fiber optic tree along with the gifts she’d picked up weeks earlier. She hung long strands of metallic garland across top of the burgundy curtains, stuck blue snowflake decals to the bathroom mirror, and set cinnamon-scented flameless candles on every available horizontal surface. Stuffed reindeer, snowmen, and Santa Clauses covered the two queen-sized beds.

When she heard footsteps outside the door, she poured apple juice into plastic cups and stuck a cinnamon stick into each cup. She thrust a glass into Olivia’s hands as soon as the door opened.

“Merry, merry Christmas, Livy-liv-liv!”

Olivia glanced over her shoulder at Sebastian, pursed her lips and arched an eyebrow. “Look, it’s a visit from the Ghost of Christmas Crack.”

Covers, Real Life, Crashed Computers, and Other Annoying Things

2010-12-10T08:55:00.003-06:00

Aside from the football story earlier in the week, I know I've been absent lately. I apologize. It's not laziness, I promise. I really do have a few good excuses:

1) My computer crashed Monday night. It was a momentary scare, but eventually I got everything back.

2) TCC edits! I finally finished!

3) WWII interview transcripts - I was given three new tapes at Thanksgiving and I needed to work on them because a) the money is nice around the holidays and b) the interviews were done in June and the museum needed the transcripts

4) Work. It sucks, but it's a necessary evil.
5) I've been working on the SKOW prompt (Twelve Days of Christmas) - it's fun, but a lot of work because I didn't want to use any of my "established" characters.

6) Cover! The cover for The Chaos Child is finally done (thank you I.D.). It's below. I wanted something fairly simple that would shrink well. I think it's nice. What do you think?

There 's a long list of things I need to do this weekend, but don't worry. I haven't disappeared.

Also, since TCC is going to be up at Amazon and Smashwords very soon, I plan on doing a contest here for several free copies so I've been working on that. Look for it sometime after the 15th.
What you can do for me:

I'm going to do a series of holiday-themed Viola/Duke drabbles. Just leave a comment with something you'd like to see and I'll post them before Christmas. If you don't want Viola/Duke, that's cool, too. I can do Aaron in a Santa hat, Sebastian trying to wrap Christmas presents, and Olivia losing her temper in a shopping mall.

Let me know your thoughts on the cover.

Have a wonderful weekend!

PS: If you're looking for a great holiday read, check out Samantha Hunter's I'll Be Yours for Christmas - racing, characters who don't whine or act like jackasses, and my favorite "frenemies to lovers" type of storyline. So good, I'm reading it again... at work... on my iphone... shhhh... don't tell anyone!

Duke/Viola - December 2008

2010-12-06T19:04:00.000-06:00

December 2008

"Football? Again? I thought I erased the last one off the DVR." Viola froze, eyes wide and lips parted. She swallowed loudly and offered up a sunny smile. "I mean I thought the last game mysteriously disappeared when the power went off last night."

Duke's eyes slid from the television screen to his wife's pink cheeks and guilty eyes. "I was on the phone with the damn cable company for an hour this morning arguing over damn DVR glitches."

"I know." She bit down on her lip and bounced on her toes. Her smile broadened. "I'm sorry?"

He glared at her before a loud cheer from the crowd on the t.v. captured his attention. "You're lucky you’re cute, you know that?"

"Oh, I think you lucked out in that instance, Tobias."

He grinned, curled an arm around her waist, and yanked her onto his lap. Sparks and dots exploded behind his eyes as she wiggled and writhed until she was wedged in the sliver of space between him and the arm of the chair. He coughed to clear his throat and exhaled shakily. "Viola," he rasped.

"What?" Her smile was all innocence, but mischief danced in her bright eyes.

"Football." He coughed again and pointed at the screen.

She rolled her eyes and flopped her head onto his shoulder. "Married for a month and the romance is gone."

"You want romance, sweetness, I'll give you romance." Duke's lips unerringly found the sensitive spot behind her ear. "After the game, though."

"Ugh." Viola slapped his chest lightly. She watched the uniformed men run across the field for a few minutes before growing bored. She frowned at the clock on the wall. "What time is everyone coming over?"

"Huh?"

Lips pursed, Viola grasped his chin and forcibly turned his face away from the t.v. screen. "What time is everyone coming over?" she repeated, over-enunciating every word.

"No one's coming over, Vi."

"You picked up a sandwich tray and that deli platter. There are two twelve-packs of Shiner in the fridge. You asked me to bake two batches of brownies. I assumed there was a New Years' Eve party planned." She shook his chin gently. "I cleaned the entire house for three hours this morning."

"I know." He lightly nipped her fingers. "I’m sorry?"

Her left eye twitched. "You're lucky you have..."

"After the game, sugar."

She counted to ten and focused on her breathing until she was reasonably certain she wasn't going to throttle her husband. "So there's really nobody coming over?"

"The food's so we don’t have to worry about cooking. It's just you and me tonight."

"Aw," she cooed, anger instantly forgotten. "That's incredibly, surprisingly sweet."

"And a couple of bowl games."

Her eye twitched again. "Sometimes I hate your living, breathing guts, Tobias."

He chuckled, tucked her firmly against his side. It didn't get better than a night of food, beer, football, and his girl. Had he been single, he might have gone down to his favorite bar to watch the game, but he enjoyed not having to deal with crowds or girls who wouldn't take no for an answer. Besides, Viola's brownies were better than the dry chocolate cake Joe's wife made every New Years'.

Viola squirmed, resigned to the fact that she was going to spend the next several hours watching football. It was a sport she'd never really followed. She liked baseball because Duke and Bas had played in high school, and she liked hockey because of the violence factor. Besides, the rules were easier to understand in both games.

"What are we watching, anyway?"

"Sun Bowl. They're playing in El Paso."

Viola squinted at the screen. "Neither team is from Texas, though."

"That's not how it works, Vi." Duke groaned and tried to come up with a simple, short explanation for the rather complicated college football bowl system. He gave up after only a few seconds. "Just watch the game. It's almost over."

"Which game is next?"

"The Texas Bowl."

"Who's playing in that one?"

"Navy and Mizzou."

Her nose wrinkled. "They’re not Texas teams either."

"They don't have to be from Texas. Look, it has to do with the conferences and rankings. Different bowl associations take the ranked teams in different conferences. For example, the Sun Bowl Association took a team from the PAC-10 and a team from the Big 12. Since they had fifth pick with the Big 12, they got Oklahoma."

"Huh?"

Duke ran a hand through his hair and cursed Sebastian for not properly educating his baby sister. "Okay, teams are ranked in their individual conferences. The bowls match up teams from different conferences. Some conferences get automatic bids, but sometimes the bowl association gets to pick. It's complicated, Vi."

"You don't even understand it." She laughed and playfully dug her elbow into his ribs. She tried to pluck a more coherent explanation out of Duke’s brain, but there was nothing but a jumbled mess.

"I do, too."

"No you don't." Viola laughed harder, tears dripping down her cheeks and sides aching. "I'm inside your head, remember? You're as confused as I am."

"Oh, shut up and watch the game," he grumbled, clamping a hand over her grinning lips. "Pick a team and cheer for them."

She nodded and resisted the childish urge to lick his palm. Knowing Duke, he'd only wipe it across her cheek afterwards. She snuggled against him and watched the last quarter of the game, drawing on the information in his head rather than asking questions aloud. She had to admit that the game was a little easier to understand once she knew all the rules. She still didn't get the whole bowl thing, though.

"How many bowls are there?"

"Over thirty."

Viola whistled. "It's sorta like t-ball, huh? Everybody gets a trophy."

Duke's head thumped against the side of the chair. "This is worse than trying to watch pro football with you."

"Aww, that's just because you were happy the Texans were beating the hell out of the Colts." She ran the pads of her fingers across his jaw. "You'd be happier if a Texas team was playing in one of these stupid bowls."

"The Cougars were playing earlier," he pointed out, neglecting to mention that they'd lost to the Air Force football team. He was a proud University of Houston alumnus, as was Viola, and didn't want to reflect too long on the loss.

Viola wasn't listening to him. She stared at the television screen with brow furrowed and shoulders tense. After a moment, she let out a small squeal and kissed Duke's cheek happily.

"Sweet mercy, I finally understand what a safety is! Where were you during all those awful high school football games? This is awesome!"

My Fakeccino

2010-12-02T10:50:00.000-06:00

Now, I love a good, hot drink as much as anybody, but I don't always have time (or money) to stop and buy one. Especially when I'm at work. As I've undoubtedly complained about before, I am chained (once, literally!) to my desk for ten hours every day. It gets downright frigid in my office during the winter and I can't turn the heater on because I work in a very dusty office. I can't wear gloves because I need to use my keyboard and calculator all day. My solution to the problem? Hot drinks.

I've got a little Melita two-travel mug coffee maker on my desk. I never make coffee in it. I've forgotten how much coffee I'm supposed to use in it. I either make instant coffee (thank you Starbucks VIA and Tasters Choice) or hot tea (again, yum). During the really cold days, I can drink up to four or five hot drinks a day and even though I use a variety of different teas it gets to be a little boring.

My cheap, easy solution? A fakeccino! I keep milk in the mini-fridge in my desk in a plastic water bottle (I tried leaving a half-gallon in there but the power went out one time and... it was nasty the next day). All you have to do to make the fakeccino is shake up the milk (it works best if the small bottle is half-full) vigorously for about twenty seconds and pour over your brewed tea or coffee. For a little extra "special", I sprinkle cinnamon or cocoa over my drink. It's easy, nice, and much cheaper than buying drinks all the time (plus, it's lower in calories since I use 2% milk and artificial sweetner).

The fakeccino also makes a great mid-day treat.

So, I'm not always spot-on with the cinnamon. See the nice layer of foamy milk on top? Yum!

I had to restrain myself - wanted to take a sip before I snapped the picture!

May 2005 - Duke/Viola

2010-12-01T11:50:00.004-06:00

May 2005

Duke swirled the heavy glass hoping to discover a hidden measure of whiskey underneath the melting ice cubes. No such luck. He didn't bother asking the bartender for a refill. Joe, who usually indulged his favorite customers, had made it more than clear that the drink in Duke's hand was the last for the night. With a sigh, Duke squinted bleary eyes and sucked a whiskey-flavored ice cube in his mouth.

"You want me to call a cab for you or someone else?" Joe asked as he pulled the glass out of Duke's lax grip. As his bar was a popular hangout for Network Trackers, Joe knew all about demons and Duke's responsibilities. He also knew why Duke had staggered through the doors with an unshaven face, wrinkled clothes, and the burning desire to drink himself into unconsciousness.

A phone number tumbled out of Duke's dry mouth. Body numb and brain fogged, Duke slumped in his stool and rested his hot cheek against the damp, slightly sticky bar top. The racket around him went in one ear and out the other. He kept his open, bloodshot eyes glued to half-empty bottle of Crown Royal on the shelf behind the bar. He hadn't slept in over thirty-six hours and, though exhaustion seeped out of his pores, he wasn't in any rush to drift off to dreamland. Having witnessed the autopsy, he knew what horrific nightmares would plague him.

God, he needed his father. He'd gladly give up decades off his life and everything he owned for five minutes with Paul Duke. He needed to know how to keep his head up at the next Tracker meeting and where to find the strength to meet the eyes of the freshly widowed Jamie Sparks. He wanted to ask his father how he was supposed to keep going in spite of the guilt tearing his heart apart. How had his father gotten over losing his first Tracker?

A slender, smooth palm gently caressed his scruffy cheek. Delicate fingers brushed the hair off his sweat-dotted forehead. The crisp scent of mint mixed with sharp rosemary was a pleasant respite from the combined odors of cigarette smoke, beer, and perspiration. He slowly loosened his grip on his mental shields and braced himself for contact with warp-speed, disorganized thoughts. When he wasn't immediately bombarded by chaos, he dropped his shields completely and basked in the unexpected, soothing warmth of the other mind.

"Can you stand up?"

Duke rolled his head towards the familiar feminine voice. He could almost taste the salty residue of tears on her cheeks. Sorrow thickened her slight Southern accent and elongated her vowels. Under any other circumstances, he might have appreciated the unintentional sultriness of her tone. He couldn't though. It was his fault, in a way, she'd been crying. Taking advantage of that would make him an even bigger bastard. There were other reasons he was supposed to keep her firmly in the 'friend' category, but with the alcohol clouding his brain, he couldn't remember what they were. Something about his parents and her brother…

"C'mon, Tobias."

"V'la?" He blinked his gummy eyelids and tried to make two of the three Violas he was seeing disappear. He succeeded only to have the one Viola blur around the edges. It made her look like an angel. The thought of Viola Ashwood as an angel was almost enough to make him smile.

"Wha're y' doin' here, Vi?"

"You called me, bud."

"Nah-uh."

"Okay, technically Joe called me, but I figure you had to give him my number so it's the same thing. Essentially."

"Oh."

Viola smiled tiredly at Duke and slid her hands down to his biceps. Thankful she'd taken advantage of the gym in the last twelve hotels she'd stayed in, she tugged him off the stool and onto his feet. When his knees weakened and he wobbled unsteadily, she slipped underneath one of his leaden arms and propped him up with her shoulder. After tossing a grateful smile and several bills at Joe, she helped Duke stagger out of the bar into the muggy Houston air.

"Thought y' were in Ok'homa," he said as they slowly made their way across the parking lot. He closed his eyes to protect them from the bright street lights only to open them when the ground beneath his feet dipped and spun. The slim arm around his waist tightened and a hand dipped into one of his front pockets. Keys jangled, but he didn't have the energy to call her on her poor pick pocketing skills.

"We headed here as soon as we heard about Max. Patrick and Olivia dated for a couple of months in college and Stephanie was a year between you and Bas. Mrs. Sparks called Bas while we were on our way to ask if he'd be a pallbearer. I spent some time with her earlier and will go over again in the morning."

Duke winced. He'd let Abelardo and Bert do most of the notifications when they'd offered, but he'd forgotten about the Ashwoods. He wondered who had made the call and which sibling had been forced to break the news to the other two. He hoped like hell Viola, who had more ties to Max Sparks, hadn't been the one to answer the phone.

"'M sorry, Vi. Should've called y'first."

She swallowed down a lump of misery, her heart breaking for him. She wanted nothing more than to ease even a fraction of his pain and guilt. "No, you shouldn't have. You had a ton of more important things to do than worry about me."

"But Max..."

She stopped abruptly, steadied him when he lurched forward, and glared. "Yes, Max was my mentor, but he was also your Tracker and Granny's friend and Tim's partner. You had enough to deal with, okay? Bert's the one who called. He was very kind about it."

"Okay."

Duke let Viola maneuver him into the passenger seat of his truck. He batted her hands away when she tried to buckle his seatbelt. Bitter laughter spilled from his lips when she moved his seat forward. "Y've got short legs."

"I do not," she protested hotly, slamming her foot on the gas pedal and backing out of the parking space. "They're perfectly normal for my height. You're the one with freakishly long legs, Tobias."

"How come y' don't call me 'Duke' li' ever'one else? 'S always T'bias."

Viola's fingers clenched the steering wheel tightly. She couldn't very well tell him that she did it to piss him off enough that he'd never forget her or mistake her for one of his floozies. They never learned his first name. She liked being set apart from the plastic, blonde Barbie dolls he went through like water. Even Olivia, who swore she hadn't encouraged Duke's flirting a few years earlier, called Duke by his last name.

"I don't know. You got all huffy when anyone besides Granny called you 'Toby' so I went with 'Tobias.'"

"'S annoyin'."

She grinned. "Then I must be doing something right."

"I hate you."

Her heart sank. There were days she feared he meant that. She loved him fiercely, had since she was a kid, but was afraid he saw her as nothing more than irritation he was better off without. She'd remain his friend for the rest of their lives if that's all he ever wanted, but sweet mercy she wished for more.

Duke rested his head against the seat and studied the woman behind the steering wheel. Did she realize that she was the only girl to have ever driven his truck? He was even reluctant about letting Bert or Abelardo drive his vehicle. In the faint greenish light from the dashboard, he could see that her eyes were red and swollen. Pain, whether from Max’s death or his harsh words he couldn’t be sure, was written all over her pretty face.

"Viola..."

"Yeah?" She tried to tamp down the hope that colored her tone. She mentally kicked herself. He was mourning the loss of a colleague and she was dreaming about declarations of devotions. God, her mother was right: she was a selfish bitch.

"Viola, I..." Duke broke off on a sigh. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say. 'I didn't mean it,' was the first thing that came to mind. 'Thank you' warred with 'I need you' and in the back of his mind lurked words too complex and terrifying to even contemplate.

"What, Tobias?"

He sighed again, shifted his head and stared out the windshield. "Where are we going?"

"Your house." She let the disappointment roll off her back. Duke needed her to be a friend and not a lovesick fool. "I didn't figure you wanted to be around Bas or Olivia. Granny's not real sympathetic when you're drunk, either. I'll stay with you, if you want."

"Just like old times," he muttered, remembering the nights she'd driven him home from the bar on the anniversary of his father's death. It was odd, but he trusted her, more than anyone else, to care for him when he was blitzed.

"Eh. If you could not throw up on my shoes this time, I'd appreciate it."

"Will do my best." He belched, gagged at the fumes burning his nostrils. “But no promises.”

"Thanks." She dropped one of her hands to the seat and wrapped her fingers around his. She gave his hand a small squeeze.

Duke reluctantly disentangled himself from her grip. Her skin felt good, almost too good, against his and he was starting to remember a few of the reasons she was on the forbidden list. "Hands at ten and two, Vi."

Viola growled at him but put both hands back on the steering wheel. The rest of the drive to Duke's house was silent. After parking the truck, she jumped out of her seat and ran around to the other side to help him out. Though he protested, she kept an arm around his waist during the walk to the porch. On the second porch step, he stumbled over his own feet and sent them both crashing to the ground.

She dodged his falling body, but scraped her palms and bare knees on the rough wooden porch. Flat on his back, Duke cackled like a hyena. Viola rolled onto her back beside him and picked splinters out of her right palm.

"You're not going to win any gracefulness awards, Tobias." She whimpered as she dug out a particularly deep splinter. A bead of blood welled up from the wound. "Give me a sec and we'll get up and in the house."

"Nah," he panted, trying to control his laughter. "We'll stay here."

"Okay." She whimpered again, cursed softly. As soon as the funeral was over, she was going to make Sebastian and Duke spend a day sanding and resealing the porch. It was too damn dangerous the way it was.

"Let me see that." Duke grabbed her wrist and dragged her towards him until she was lying across his chest. He held her wrist up to the dim light and squinted at the splinters. "I keep causing people pain."

"Hey!" She thumped his shoulder with her free hand. "Max's death sucks beyond belief, but it wasn't your fault. It's a risk we all take every time we go out on rotation. You can't blame yourself. That's just stupid and a waste of time. I promise that no one blames you at all for what happened. It was supposed to be a regular Digaion hunt and there was an accident. It's terrible, but it happens."

Duke gently pulled a thin splinter of wood out of her palm. He soothed the pain with a chaste kiss to the abraded skin. "Thank you, sugar."

Giddiness welled up inside, but she kept her face impassive. "It's nothing, Tobias. Really. It's what friends do."

Duke nodded. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes but kept Viola's hand sandwiched between his. He tried to keep his eyes open, but they drifted shut. The tension he'd carried around since Max's death melted away. Viola was warm and soft against him; her slightly irregular heartbeat lulled him to sleep.

"Just so you know, Tobias," she whispered in his ear as her own eyelids grew heavy, "even if I had been in Oklahoma or Maine, for that matter, nothing would have stopped me from coming when Joe called. It's what people in love do."

Review of "Haunt Me Still"

2010-11-29T10:45:00.000-06:00

Haunt Me Still by Jennifer Lee Carrell

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I enjoyed this book, but not as much as I felt I should have enjoyed it. The descriptions are wonderfully done, and you feel as if you are right there with Kate. The book is nicely written so that you feel Kate's fear and the awkwardness of her relationship with Ben. The suspense was very nice and I did not recognize the "bad guy" until the very end. All in all, it had everything a good suspense novel needs.

Except for pacing. The book moved too slow. It made gigantic leaps in action, but overall the pace was far too slow. The reader gets bogged down with information about the play, which is interesting, but it makes the entire book drag along.

I will say that I thought the historical interludes were distracting at first, but I did get over and enjoy the secondary plot they brought along to the story.

All in all, I thought was an enjoyable book, but I would have liked it more if it had held my attention for longer stretches of time. This was not a book that I "had" to finish all in one night. I could put it down easily, but I am glad I finished it.

Disclaimer: I received this book through the Goodreads First Reads program.

View all my reviews

Duke/Viola - December 2008, Blog Only Story

2010-11-17T11:17:00.000-06:00

This short story takes place between the last chapter and the epilogue of the first book.

December 2008

Viola tilted her hand back and forth admiring the way the sunlight made the gemstones on her engagement ring sparkle. Though Duke had only placed the ring on her finger five days earlier, and slid the matching wedding band on two days later, she’d already grown used to its weight on her hand. Not once in all the years she’d admired Granny Duke’s rings had she imagined they would be hers. Then again, she hadn’t believed Duke would ever marry, either. She’d never been so happy to be wrong before.

She shivered as the temperature in the car dropped another couple of degrees. She pulled the fleece blanket up to her chin and eyed the coffee in the cup holder speculatively. They’d stopped for drinks and snacks an hour earlier. What were the chances the coffee was still warm?

Opting to forgo the coffee, she adjusted the travel pillow cushioning her head and closed her eyes. She’d had a small, niggling headache all day and was tired of being cooped up in the car. She was going to try her best to persuade Duke to stay in Baton Rouge for more than a day. She needed a break from road glare and country music.

Just as she drifted off to sleep, the car shook violently. Her head bounced off the window. Grumbling obscenities and rubbing the sore spot on her forehead, she opened her door and stuck her head out the opening.

“Need any help?”

“No, I’ve got this. Stay inside.”

Viola resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her panting husband. Husband, she squealed internally. She could finally write Viola Duke, the name she’d doodled in spirals and on paper textbook covers in school, without having to hide it from her nosy siblings. There was the small problem of her initials being “VD,” but it was so worth it.

When the car shook a second time, she balled the blanket up and tossed onto the backseat. She retrieved a small plastic pouch from the center console, snagged Duke’s leather jacket by the collar, and slipped out of the car. She hissed as the icy wind slapped her in the face.

Huddled close to the car, she followed the sound of Duke’s voice and pained grunts. She found him on his back near the front of the SUV. A magenta, furry demon no larger than Finn stood at his feet sniffing his shoelaces. Teeth clamped down on her lower lip to hold back her laughter, Viola dropped Duke’s jacket onto his head.

“Here. It’s cold. You’re going to get frostbite, and that’d be really inconvenient for me.”

Duke yanked the jacked off his face and shoved his arms through the sleeves. The lining was cold, but he was grateful for the protection from the wind. He tilted his head back so he could glare up at Viola.

“You’re not going to be very good at this whole ‘obeying’ thing, are you?”

“Now whatever gave you that idea?”

“The first twenty-five years of your life.”

She chuckled and leaned back against the cold metal of the SUV. “Just wait until you see the next twenty-five.”

A broad grin split his face. He ran the back of his hand across her knee. “I’m looking forward to it.” He lightly swatted her other knee. It was far too soon after her four-day coma for her to be up and about with demons around. “Now get back in the car. I can handle this on my own.”

“Are you sure?” She frowned at the demon moving stealthily towards Duke’s head. “Shruulumps can be tricky.”

“I said I’ve got it, Vi. I have Tracked without you holding my hand you know.”

“Okay.” She shrugged; thrust her frigid hands in the pockets of her jeans. “You might want to duck, then.”

Ignoring her advice completely, Duke turned back around to face the demon only to end up with the Shruulump’s slick tongue on his cheek. He gagged as the foul-smelling saliva coated his skin. Before he could back away, the Shruulump’s long, red tongue made another pass over his face.

“Well, I suppose a shower’s going to be included in my plans for tonight,” Viola observed dryly. She wrinkled her nose in disgust when yellow-tinted saliva dripped onto Duke’s thermal shirt. “A trip to the hotel’s laundry room, too.”

“You’re not very nice.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, sounding anything but, “I must have skipped over that part of my vows.”

“Hardly surprising.” With a groan, Duke shoved the Shruulump away and surged to his feet. His back ached and his knees stung from where he’d scraped them on the asphalt. “Remind me again why we don’t kill these things?”

“Because they’re cute?”

Duke froze, slowly turned his head to stare incredulously at Viola. He gestured at the demon with brightly-colored fur, hairless rattail, massive three-toed paws, and sharp, black teeth. Shruulump’s had always reminded him of something a person tripping on acid would dream up.

“Cute? You think that is cute?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “You have a very, very whacked definition of ‘cute,’ sugar.”

“I know,” she responded mildly. “I married you, after all.”

His eyes narrowed; his lips thinned. “Get back in the car, Viola.”

“Oh, don’t pout. You know you’re handsome.” She winked at him flirtatiously. “Some people might even call you sexy.”

“Really?” Duke perked up. He ran a hand through his short hair and used a napkin from his pocket to wipe most of the saliva off his face.

“I said ‘some people.’ I never said that included me.”

"Get in the car.”

Grinning, she pushed off the car and looped an arm around his waist. She pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth. “Love you, Tobias.”

“You think I’m just going to forgive you because you pulled the love card, don’t you?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” She kissed him again. By the time she pulled away, the scowl had slipped off his face and his eyes were dark with lust. The thoughts he broadcasted through their link made her knees weak. “Let’s take care of the Shruulump so we can get to the hotel.”

“Best plan I’ve heard all day.” He glanced down at the demon at their feet. “Got any suggestions?”

Viola dangled the plastic pouch under his nose. “I had these left over from the last time I had to take Finn to the vet. Toss a handful into the bushes. Once the Shruulump eats them, he’ll fall asleep and we can call a team to pick him up.”

“That’s not going to work.”

"Sure it will. They knock Finn out, so they should work for the Shruulump. They’re about the same size.”

“That’s not how it works, Vi, but we’ll try it.”

Duke read the back of the package of dog treats, shrugged, and tossed a handful of the round treats into a clump of bushes a few feet from the road. The Shruulump immediately scampered after the sausage-flavored treats. Three minutes later, the loud, wheezing sound of the Shruulump’s snores reached them. With a smirk, Viola handed Duke his cell phone and pranced back to the car.

“Nobody likes a know-it-all, Viola!” he called after her.

“Oh, just get in the car, Tobias.”

SUBO-SS Chapter 5/6

2010-11-12T11:52:00.001-06:00

Yay! We are nearing the end. Only one chapter left.

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four

Chapter Five:

“Emmett,” Kacy called over her shoulder, hands fisted in the soft cotton of Sam’s sweatshirt.

“Yeah, baby doll?”

“When I wake up, don’t ever let me eat Hawaiian pizza or drink merlot ever again, m’kay?”

The warm chest she was cradled against vibrated. Sam’s husky chuckle filled the air and sent a shiver all the way down to her toes. She melted him against him for a moment before sanity returned. “Put me down!”

“I will when we get there,” Sam said. “Charles isn’t faster than me, but he is faster than you. I need to protect you.”

“Oh boy,” Emmett groaned. Kacy was not the type of woman who liked to be “protected.” He blamed their mother for that attitude. He and his father were used to indulging their ‘fierce womyn,’ but how would a man-incubus-whatever supposedly born with sixteenth century notions handle liberated, twenty-first century Kacy?

“You will put me down right this minute, Samuel Crowder, if that is your real name!” Kacy wriggled insistently until Sam had no choice but to set her on her feet. She planted her fists on her hips and glared up at the face she’d dreamed of for months. “If you expect me to believe any of the crap John’s been feeding me, I’m going to need more of an explanation.”

“Your name is Katya Clover Jacobson. You were born in Richmond, Virgina to Robert and Mariska Jacobson. Your father was an incubus, but your mother was human. That makes you part-succubus and part-human.” Sam shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not as terrible as it sounds, though. Eventually you’ll get over being half-human.”

“One would think it was the energy-sucking demon part I’d need to get over,” Kacy bit out icily. She liked Sam better when he was a long-dead soldier who wrote letters so full of longing and devotion they made her heart ache. At the thought of the letters, white-hot fury rushed through her veins. “Those letters. Major Sam Crowder. The soldier your commanding officers wrote so glowingly about. Was any of that true? Do I have a box of lies in my house?”

“No. It’s all true. I wrote those letters to Mother and I regretted that John and I could not see eye-to-eye on certain issues.” Sam wanted to pull her into his arms and feel her heart beating under his fingertips. Years of watching her from a safe distance had satisfied his need to be near her, but nothing compared to touching her. “John was supposed to return to the house after Mother ‘died’ and retrieve the box, but was intercepted by a clan of vampires. I had utterly forgotten the letters until you purchased the box.”

“So it was all one big coincidence? I just happened to buy a box of letters that belonged to the incubus who knew my parents?”

“Not at all.”

Kacy’s brow furrowed. She prided herself on being a logical person, but she was having trouble keeping up with the details. “So you arranged for me to somehow purchase the box.”

“Of course not!”

Stung by the vehemence of his denial, Kacy drew herself up to her full height, which she admitted wasn’t all that imposing, and gave Sam her most withering glare. “I swear, if I the next words out of your mouth aren’t a clear explanation…”

“You’ll what?” Sam arched an eyebrow, lips twitching as he fought to conceal his grin. She was still the fierce little kitten he remembered: all bristling hair, needle-sharp claws, and determination.

“I-I don’t know.” Kacy’s glare softened slightly. “But I can promise it won’t be pleasant.”

“We need to keep moving,” John reminded them grimly. He shot his brother an exasperated look as he brushed past to take the lead. Emmett shrugged at Kacy as he followed John. He didn’t know what to make of any of this, but if demons said to run away, he was going to run. At least until he figured out what sort of trouble Kacy’d managed to stumble upon.

Sam twined his fingers with Kacy’s and tugged her along. Their pace was fast but not brutal. She was glad she’d chosen to wear her tennis shoes and not the pretty powder blue ballet flats that matched her sweater. The thin soles weren’t meant to be worn on rough asphalt.

“Charles likely manipulated the situation so that you wound up with the letters,” Sam said as they ran.

Kacy wanted to scowl at him, but was too busy concentrating on keeping up with his long stride. She envied his ability to speak without sounding the least bit out of breath. Her lungs burned and beads sweat trickled down her spine. She wished they could pause just long enough for her to take off her sweater. Surely her camisole wouldn’t be too scandalous to wear in front of Sam and John.

“He’s been looking for you since you disappeared. For me, too, since I left around the same time you did. He likely assumed that I would be nearby keeping an eye on you.” Sam squeezed her hand and pulled her closer when she stumbled on a loose rock. “Someone must have seen you, but couldn’t be sure. You’ve colored your hair.”

“Had… t’get… respect…” she panted, prickling at the accusatory tinge in his observation. What business of his was it if she’d dyed her hair? It was her head.

“Charles gave the historian a juicy story she couldn’t resist and then sat back and waited. You went on television and, damn it, that was a stupid move. The hair might’ve fooled his underlings, but there you were with all the passion and intelligence and joy you’d had as a kid. He’d have recognized you in an instant.”

“Growling?”

“Yes. I caught him outside your house last night and then again this morning. As I said earlier, I chased him off, but he was on his way back with reinforcements. He’s not going to let you go twice.”

“T-twice?” Kacy dug her heels in until Sam stopped. She felt a pang of fear when John and Emmett disappeared from sight. She was alone with a man who claimed to be a centuries-old incubus and, possibly, her babysitter. Exactly how much wine had she had the night before?

Sam’s lips dipped into a frown. He brushed a smudge of dirt off her cheek with his thumb. “Your father was Charles’ best friend for two hundred years. They were close as brothers until one morning Robert was feeding at a high school and met a young English teacher.”

“W-wait a minute! You feed off of students?” Her stomach churned with disgust and disappointment. How could she have forgotten that demons were killers? Child-killers, to make matters worse. “That’s… God… that’s….”

“We don’t drain them completely. Well, not always and not usually on purpose.”

“Yeah, that’s real comforting.”

“What kind of parasites would we be if we killed off the things that feed us?” Sam chuckled grimly. “High schools and hospitals are our preferred feeding grounds. Teens are bursting with hormones and emotions. It’s practically an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

“Stop! Just… stop.” Kacy held her hand up to silence him. “So, you, what? Spend eternity as high school students… when you’re not masquerading as war heroes, that is?”

“Students? No. That’s just ridiculous. We’d go mad with boredom after the first decade. We either take jobs as teachers or principals. The hospitals work, as well. I’ve been a doctor seven times in the past century. War, of course, also provides adequate food.”

“I don’t want to hear anymore.”

“You won’t be able to hide your head in sand for too long, little Clover. You’re one of us.”

Kacy shook her head, hoping if she shook it hard enough she’d dislodge the terrible images his words conjured inside her brain. “What happened to my parents?”

“Your typical love triangle, I’m afraid. Charles fancied himself love with your mother. He wanted to make her like us, but she refused. Robert stood up for her. It was her decision, after all. We lived in an uneasy peace for several years.”

"What happened?”

“You were born. Charles claimed that you were his destined mate. Your parents fled. The clan split into two factions. My family accompanied yours.” Sam cupped her cheek. His thumb caressed her quivering lower lip. “Charles lied. There is no such thing as fated mates for our kind. Love is… wonderful and frightening and dangerous… but it is just something that happens without rhyme or reason.”

Kacy swallowed. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. She tasted salt, grass, and something heavy like bitter dark chocolate. Sam. “What happened to my parents?”

“Charles caught up with us. He killed your parents and tried to abduct you. In all the confusion of the battle, you managed to escape. The authorities picked you up before we had the chance.” Sam’s eyes grew dark and haunted. Regret radiated off him. “When we finally found you, Mother insisted that we keep our distance. Charles could track us much easier than he could track you. We went to Africa to lead him on a chase. By the time we’d gotten him completely turned around, you’d been adopted and had settled into a life with humans.”

“I am human,” she insisted stubbornly.

“No, you’re not. Not really. You could have lived a human life if you’d never met any of us ever again, but being near us… activates the other half of your heritage.” Sam smiled gently before pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “You’ll need to feed soon. I can sense your hunger.”

“This is completely crazy! You can’t just turn someone into by being near them. I didn't go to bed last night human and wake up a succubus!”

"You know it’s not crazy. You may not remember your parents or me, but something inside you knows I’m telling the truth.”

He was right. She should have been screaming for Emmett or for help, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t calling him a liar or accusing him of playing a practical joke. A spark of something in the back of her mind brightened and filled her veins with warmth. Hunger gnawed at her stomach.

“Come on. We’ve got to catch up with the others,” Sam urged.

“Oh, I’m afraid it’s far too late for that.”

A large, tanned hand clamped down onto Kacy’s shoulder. She whimpered at his bruising grip. Torn out of Sam’s grasp, she was roughly spun around so that she faced their attacker. The man was almost a foot taller than Sam, and his shoulders were twice as broad. He would have looked right at home on the football field with Emmett. The sun haloing his blond head gave him the appearance of an avenging angel, but his sinister black eyes were downright malevolent.

“Charles,” Sam growled, reaching for Kacy but blocked by two snarling minions.

“No need for theatrics, Samuel. I’ll just take my bride and be on my way.”

Back Story - February 2001 - Request fic

2010-11-10T12:51:00.002-06:00

Another request fic. Someone wanted to see a back story from the point of view, more or less, of a minor character. She wasn't specific, so I chose someone not even mentioned in the main stories (yet): Aaron, Viola's best friend in high school.
If I ever stop procrastinating and work on my DoD prequel, Aaron'll be a main character in that. This would take place around that same time period.

February 2001

His eyes were drawn, as they usually were, to the door just as she strolled into the classroom. Any one of the other five thousand people on campus could walk through the door and he wouldn’t bother glancing over, but something about Viola Ashwood captured his attention. He watched her green-gold eyes sweep across the room before she started towards her desk. He wished he knew what it was she looked for whenever she entered a room. What made her spine stiffen for those brief seconds?

“Hey, A.”

Aaron grinned up at his best friend. “Hey, V.” His eyes fell to her ornate gothic cross belt buckle. The shiny silver stood out against the black of her pants and long-sleeved t-shirt. “Mary’s going to freak when she sees your buckle. She’s been searching for one like that for months.”

“I know. She’s getting one just like for her birthday next week. A buddy of my brother’s makes them.” Viola dropped her backpack to the floor and slid into the hard plastic chair in front of Aaron. “Don’t say a word, though. It’s fun to watch her squirm.”

“Devious.”

“Flatterer.”

His retort, something witty sure to make her finally fall in love with him, withered on his tongue when she distractedly shoved up the sleeves of her shirt. Black and purple bruises dotted her left arm and ringed her right wrist. The neckline of her shirt shifted when she leaned over to pick up her pen. Aaron spotted a line of butterfly bandages on her shoulder. There were long pink scratches on her collarbone.

“Jesus, V,” he rasped, brown eyes wide with horror.

Viola hastily yanked down her sleeves. She shot Aaron a quelling glare when he opened his mouth again. “Class is fixing to start.”

He nodded jerkily and opened his textbook. He couldn’t take his mind off the marks on his best friend’s pale skin. He knew her home life sucked: her father had disappeared on her sixteenth birthday, her mom was a nutcase, and her older siblings were overbearing. She’d come to school with a bruise or two before, given how often she snuck out of the house it was expected, but never like that.

The small notes he shoved under her elbow went ignored. Her attention was wholly focused on Mrs. Cavazos. He knew it was only because she wanted to avoid him. She had the highest grade in the class but she never paid attention their teacher.

“Did everyone memorize a passage this weekend?” Mrs. Cavazos asked, glancing around the room full of half-asleep juniors. “No volunteers to go first? How surprising. Ms. Ashwood, why don’t you have the honor?”

“’By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have wandered home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule,’” Viola quoted, voice devoid of inflection and eyes fixed on the clock at the front of the room.

Ah, Poe, again. I should have known, Ms. Ashwood.”

“Yeah, like the freak reads anything else!” One of the football jocks in the back of the classroom called out. His buddies and their cheerleader girlfriends laughed loudly. A few other students tittered nervously, their eyes sliding away from a visibly vibrating Viola.

While Mrs. Cavazos tried to restore order, Aaron leaned forward to cover one of Viola’s clenched fists. He bent his head so that his electric blue hair mingled with her dark auburn strands. “They’re just sheep, V.”

“I know that,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “I’m fine, Aaron.”

Surprised because she hardly ever used his full name, he dropped back into his seat. Fortunately, the rest of the class passed without any other incidents. He threw his book and spiral into his backpack, but by the time he pulled the zipper closed all he could see was the back of Viola’s head. He watched her gracefully bob and weave through the congested hallway and made a vow to talk to her before lunch.

He’d quit track after tearing a ligament in his knee the previous spring, but hadn’t regretted the decision until recently. He had been Viola’s usual running partner, though he suspected she deliberately slowed down to keep pace with him. A three-mile run around the track would have been the perfect time to talk about the bruises.

By the time fourth period rolled around, his stomach was in knots. Had Viola’s brother hurt her? If Sebastian Ashwood was beating her, had she told anyone about it? Did her sister know? Was her sister part of it? Did she have any other family members she could live with?

Worrying his lip ring with his tongue, Aaron walked right past his fourth period classroom and towards the gym. He hung out in the hallway outside the girl’s locker room and gently grabbed Viola’s shoulder when she appeared beside him. “Skip?”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

For the first time in hours, Aaron smiled. That was as good as an agreement. “Not likely.”

“Yeah, okay. I didn’t do my Spanish homework, anyway.”

Aaron led the way out of the school. Once they were off school grounds, though, he faltered. All of their usual hangouts were his favorite places. He wanted Viola to feel comfortable when they had their talk. “Where d’you wanna go?

Viola shifted her backpack and curled an arm around her middle as if protecting herself from something. She shivered, eyes on something in the distance Aaron couldn’t see. When she tilted her head to the side, he could see faint bruises on her forehead.

“V?”

She jerked as if startled and shook her head. “Sorry, A. I know a place. It’s not too far from here.”

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Aaron cleared his throat. He peeked at Viola through his eyelashes. “You know you can always stay with me, right?”

“What?” Viola stopped abruptly, winced. “What are you talking about, A?”

"If your brother… you know…” He gestured towards her arms, courage fading. “If you can’t be at home because it’s too dangerous or too whatever… you’re always welcome at my place.”

“You think Sebastian did this?”

Aaron blushed. Why did jumping to the logical conclusion feel like a monumental mistake? He wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

“Oh, A.” Viola darted forward and pressed a brief, chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re very sweet.”

“Hey!” He bristled at the compliment. No one had ever called him sweet before. He wasn’t sweet. He made freshmen run in fear at the sight of him. He’d even made a seventh-grader wet his pants once just by glaring.

“It’s true and you know it,” she taunted. The teasing smile slid off her face. She clasped his hands tightly and squeezed. “Thank you, Aaron.”

“So, what did happen to you, then?” he asked as they resumed their trek to Viola’s secret hideout.

A loud growl from the copse of trees across the street stopped both teens in their tracks. Aaron paled. Viola groaned. Still holding his hand, she dashed across the pavement towards the trees.

“What are you doing, V? It could be an animal. We need to call the cops or animal control or something!”

Viola chuckled dryly. “I know what it is and in this case, I am the animal control.”

Aaron gasped when she skidded to a stop, released his hand, unbuckled her belt, and slid it free from her belt loops. Her slender fingers pressed a hidden latch on the belt buckle he’d admired earlier that morning. By the time she was finished with it, it looked more like a dagger than a cross.

“Stay here.” She slipped her backpack off her shoulders and handed it to him. Her face was more serious than he’d ever seen it before. “I mean it, A. No heroics. Stay right here.”

“V?”

“Sweet mercy this is going to suck more than running laps.” With a grimace Viola stealthily ventured into the copse.

A second growl had the tiny hairs on the back of Aaron’s neck standing on end. He tightened his grasp on Viola’s backpack and prepared to follow her. He couldn’t just stand by why she went after a potentially wounded, dangerous animal.

The squeal of tires on the street behind him kept him from taking more than two steps. He heard a door slam shut and then footsteps pounding on the wet grass. Glancing over his shoulder, Aaron saw a tall, broad-shoulder blond man racing in his direction.

“What’re you doing here, kid?” The man’s blue eyes slipped down to the backpack. His lips curled down in a frown. “I should have known she’d be here. Where’d she go?”

Confused, but grateful he didn’t have to face the whatever-it-was in the trees, Aaron pointed in the direction Viola had disappeared. He vaguely remembered seeing the blond man at Viola’s house once or twice. He thought the man was one of Sebastian’s friends.

A third growl started but cut off abruptly. Aaron could smell blood and smoke on the breeze. He shuddered. Was this what Viola did that gave her the bruises? Is this why she disappeared on weekends and didn’t return her phone calls? Just what in the hell was she involved in? How many other secrets was she keeping from him? Did he even really know her at all?

“So I get to the hospital to check on my three favorite pains in the ass, and sure enough, one of them is missing. No one saw you leave, but I didn’t think for a second you’d been kidnapped,” the blond man said as he dragged a sullen Viola out of the copse. “No one’s crazy enough to want to haul your irritating ass along, that’s for sure. I was on my way to school to see how your ribs were holding up when I get a call about a Brivid in this area.”

“It’s the same one we lost last night,” Viola interjected.

“I know that, Shortcake. It’s why I took the assignment. I figured I owed it a broken leg or two.”

“Did you see what it did to Livy’s arm?”

“I saw the pictures of what it did to you, too.” The man’s lips thinned. He gently shook Viola. “You’re damn lucky I got here when I did. You may think you’re invincible, kiddo, but you took a hell of a beating last night. You wouldn’t have lasted another two minutes against that thing.”

“Oh, please. I was doing fine.” Viola rolled her eyes. Her expression froze when she caught sight of Aaron. She inclined her head towards the blond man but Aaron could still hear her clearly. “A’s going to walk me home, okay?”

The man studied her for a moment before nodding once. “Fine. I’ve got to take care of the Brivid. I’m taking you back to the hospital tonight, though. You’re probably going to miss the next couple of days of school. Plus, Bas was pissed as hell at you.”

“Thanks, Toby.” Viola skipped across the grass and skid to a stop in front of Aaron. Leaves were stuck in her hair and there was a smudge of mud on her cheek, but she looked happier than she had all morning. With a hesitant smile, she linked her arm with his. “Guess we need to talk, huh?”

Well? What'd you think of Aaron? Interested in hearing more from him? Want to know where he's at now?

SUBO-Short Story 4/6

2010-11-08T13:44:00.002-06:00

Did I say this was going to be five chapters? I seriously underestimated how much I wanted to cram into this short story. It's going to be five chapters and an epilogue. I mean it this time. Six chapters total.

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three

Chapter Four:

“Back off!” Emmett scowled at the man on the doorstep as he hauled Kacy back against his chest. His stomach churned when she made no move to get free. She normally hated being manhandled. “What did you do to her?”

Thorne Dow held his hands up and cocked his head to the side. “I assure you that I did nothing at all to Ms. Adams.”

“’S John,” she murmured, turning in Emmett’s arms so that her cheek was pressed against his shoulder. Her self-preservation instincts railed against turning her back on the man who shouldn’t exist, but she couldn’t look at him any longer. He was wrong and, God, if he wasn’t John Crowder, she deserved to be back in that mental hospital.

“What was that, baby girl?”

“He’s John. He’s Sam’s brother.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Adams, but my name is Thorne and I don’t have any brothers.”

“Shut up!” Kacy whirled around, jabbed Thorne/John in the chest with her index fingers. Her flushed face was streaked with tears and her eyes were wild. “Don’t you dare stand there and lie to me. I don’t know how it’s possible, but I know who you are!”

“Kacy!” Emmett tightened his grasp on her waist and pulled her away from their stunned visitor. Her behavior was unsettling. She’d never been violent before. He smiled apologetically at Thorne. “I’m sorry about this. I don’t know what’s come over her.”

Thorne gently grabbed Kacy’s left arm. He twisted it so that the inside of her wrist was in the air. He brushed his thumb along the ankh tattooed beneath the ‘KC.’ “Katya,” he whispered.

She yanked her arm out of his hands. “My name is Kacy.”

“I can’t believe he was right. I can’t believe it’s you.”

“Funny, I could say the same thing.” Kacy leaned back against Emmett, grateful for his presence. He was warm, solid, and real. She could trust him to protect her, even if she was certifiably insane. “I’ve got to say, you look really good for someone a hundred and sixty-seven years old.”

He chuckled. “I assure you, Ms. Adams, I am nowhere near that old.”

“No! You can’t do that!” Kacy shoved her wrist under his nose, the force of her anger sent him stumbling backwards a few steps. “You can’t claim to know who the hell I am and then lie to me about who you are, John Crowder.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the empty street. “Perhaps we should move this conversation inside. It’s not safe to be out in the open like this.”

“Not safe? Not safe from what? From whatever’s been growling outside my window?”

All traces of Thorne, the affable history teacher, disappeared. The man who all but shoved Emmett and Kacy into the townhouse was closed off and wary. He bolted the door once they were inside and closed the curtains on the picture window beside the door. Dark eyes quickly scanned the room to locate every possible exit and hiding place.

It was easy for Emmett to see the soldier in Thorne/John/Whoever-in-the-hell-he-was. He snuggled Kacy against his side, ran a hand down her trembling arm. His eyes fell on the framed Crowder Family picture on her desk. John Crowder’s grim face stared back at him. He mentally compared the image in the picture to the man prowling around his sister’s home. There was no denying they could pass for twins, but it was impossible for it to actually be John Crowder, Civil War soldier, wasn’t it?

“I’m right, aren’t I?’ Kacy wriggled out of Emmett’s arms. She planted herself in front of ‘Thorne’ with her hands on her hips and eyebrows raised. “The growling means something. It’s got you worried.”

Emmett was far too familiar with the determined expression on her face. He almost felt sorry for their visitor. Kacy was like a pit bull with a meaty bone when she wanted information.

“I heard the first one last night. It wasn’t… it wasn’t any animal I’ve ever heard.” She shuddered at the memory. “One of the ones this morning was different, though. “

“How many have you heard?”

“Definitely two different growlers.”

John ran a hand through his hair, cursed softly. “Sam.”

Kacy perked up, her head swiveled around as if she expected Sam Crowder to pop up from behind the couch. “He’s the one growling?” Her hands slid off her hips as her brow furrowed in concentration. “Is he… mad at me? It is because of the t.v. show?”

Dry laughter spilled out of John’s lips. He shook his head and leaned against the wall. “Mad at you? Kid, if you only knew…” His laughter stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowed. His sharp gaze seemed to pierce right through her. “You should know.”

“Well, I don’t know. I’ve never met Sam Crowder.” Kacy plopped onto the couch, propped her heels up on the edge of the coffee table, and rested her aching head against the soft cushions. It had to be a dream. She was going to wake up at any minute with one hell of a red-wine hangover. “Of course, that’s not surprising, since, oh, I don’t know, he died 119 years before I was born!”

“No he didn’t.”

Kacy turned her eyes to a silently-observing Emmett. “Em, was I born in 1982?”

“That’s what the doctors figured when they checked you over.”

“Thank you. And, according to the letters written to his mother and the paperwork his commanding officers filled out, did Captain Samuel Crowder die in 1863?”

“That’s the story.”

“Thank you, again.” She flashed Emmett a smile before glaring at John. If she found out Juan had put ‘John’ up to this, she was going kill him. “I’m sure you think screwing with me is a ton of fun, but you’re going to have to find another victim for your little game. I quit.”

John hesitantly moved towards Kacy and perched on the edge of the coffee table. He kept his body positioned between her and the door. Half his attention was trained on the door. “Sam didn’t die in 1863. There was so much confusion then, it was easy for him to swap identities with another soldier that had been killed. I had done the same thing a couple of months earlier. ”

“That’s horrible!” Anger clouded Kacy’s face. She surged forward to slap John’s arm with the back of her hand. The heartbreak Annie Crowder must have felt, and for no reason at all! “Your poor mother! How could either of you do that to her?”

Rather than be indignant over her accusation, he stared at her in wonder. “You really don’t remember anything do you?”

“What am I supposed to remember?”

“Your parents, for one thing.”

Kacy shivered at the frost in his tone. When Emmett claimed the cushion beside her, she gratefully curled into his warmth. “I have parents: Jenny and Paul Adams. I have a brother, too. I had good childhood; I wasn’t spoiled but I never wanted for anything. I had friends, I played sports, and I got good grades.”

“But you don’t remember the first five years of your life.”

Emmett wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest. He wanted to punch John in the face. For years Kacy had agonized over the blank spot in her memory. It wasn’t fair to bring it up when she’d finally moved on. “The doctors said it was unlikely she’d ever remember. Her brain buried those memories deep to protect itself from some sort of trauma.”

John paled. His righteous anger faded into a grimace. “I’m sorry. It was… traumatic for all of us. I can’t imagine what it was like for you. It never should have gone down like that.”

“What are you talking about?” Kacy demanded.

“What do you know about incubi?”

“W-w-what?” Kacy sputtered. “I ask for an explanation and you ask me about mythology?”

"They’re demons that feed off sexual energy. “Unexplainable” pregnancies were blamed on incubi. There’s a variation of the myth in dozens of cultures. Legend says that Merlin’s father was an incubus.” Emmett flushed and shrugged when two sets of eyes zeroed in on him. “What? I was an English major. I took a couple of mythology courses!”

“The myths are only half right. We require energy to survive, but it isn’t limited to sexual energy.” John frowned. “I don’t know for sure about that bit regarding Merlin.”

“Wait!” Kacy froze. Her fingers tingled and her stomach twisted. The fog that always shrouded her early childhood started to thin. “You said ‘we.’”

“I did.”

Her lips twisted in a humorless smile as bile rose in her throat. Something inside her compelled her to believe his story, but she clung to logic. “You’re crazier than I am!”

“Or I’m telling the truth.” John started to reach for Kacy’s hands but pulled back when Emmett snarled warningly. “My mother was a succubus and my father was an incubus. I was born in 1543. My younger brother Samuel was born in 1550 in London.”

“That’s… that’s really not possible.”

“Sam and I are incubi. So, Katya Clover, was your father. Your parents were part of our clan. Sam and I used to babysit you. You had Sammy wrapped around your bitty fingers. He called you Clover, you know. You hated it.”

Before Kacy could respond, the front door crashed open. Emmett instinctively curled over Kacy like a human shield. John braced for an attack. The growl died in his throat when he spotted the man standing in the doorway.

“We’ve got to get Kacy out of here. I ran him off earlier, but Charles is on his way back!” Sam Crowder, his jeans and sweatshirt a far cry from his Confederate uniform, rushed into the townhouse and grabbed Kacy’s limp hand. He smiled charmingly and winked before scooping her into his arms. “Hello again, little Clover.”

--
Come on, who didn't see that coming? Still with me, here?

Sour Cream Pumpkin Bundt

2010-11-05T22:18:00.000-05:00

After reading The Food Librarian's "30 Days of Bundt Cakes" (found here - seriously, check her out, she's awesome), I decided to put my rarely-used (read: never used) bundt pan and make the Libby's Sourt Cream Pumpkin Bundt.

Mine didn't turn out quite as pretty, but I'm happy to say the struesel stayed where it was supposed to.

You'll have to forgive the crappy lighting - I've had my phone for over a year and I'm still learning how to use it.

It fell apart because it was still warm (breakage occured at the struesel layer) - I should have let it cool longer, but as you may know, I have zero patience. It smelled wonderful and I had to have a slice.

Here's the recipe - Sour Cream Pumpkin Bundt

JT said it needed a little more "pumpkin" flavor to compete with the struesel, so I think next time I make it, I'll throw in some pumpkin pie spice along with the cinnamon (in addition, not as a substitute).

Tomorrow (or Sunday) we'll try an apple spice cake and then I've got to make the banana bread I've been promising JT for weeks.

LSU/'Bama game tomorrow.... I can't wait!

SUBO-Short Story 3/5

2010-11-03T07:48:00.000-05:00

Chapter Three:

“That wasn’t the same one!” Kacy slipped out of Emmett’s arms and spun around searching for the source of the growl. While the one she’d heard the previous night had been full of malice, the most recent growl was more like a warning or… jealousy?

“The same what, kiddo?”

“Growl. Last night’s growl was different.”

“And I’m just hearing about this mysterious growl now because…”

Kacy groaned and ran a hand through her dark brown hair. “I knew you’d overreact.” She narrowed her eyes as he wound a massive arm around her waist and pulled her behind him. “Kind of like you are now.”

“No such thing as overreacting when it comes to my baby sis.” Emmett scanned the street, the driveway, and the tiny front lawn but couldn’t see anything out of place. At the sound of second growl, this one deeper and more menacing from the first, he pulled Kacy tight against him until the cold tip of her nose was buried in his back. He still didn’t see anyone and the house was too close to town for it to have been a wandering wild animal.

A third growl, the same as the first one that morning, had Kacy crawling up Emmett’s back. She looped her arms around his neck and locked her ankles around his waist. “In the house, please.”

He was certain his football equipment had weighed more than she did. Emmett rushed towards the front door. A manila envelope tucked in the white mailbox by the front door caught Kacy’s attention. She dug her heel into his abdomen to get him to pause long enough for her to grab it.

The envelope was heavy and rigid. Before she opened it, she knew there would be pictures inside. Inside her townhouse, she slipped off Emmett’s back and kicked off her flip-flops. She slid a trembling finger under the flap, sucked in a calming breath, and opened the envelope.

“Oh, God.”

The pictures fell out of her lax grasp and spilled across the floor. She staggered toward the couch. Her knees gave out before she reached the cushions. Hot tears spilled down waxy, pale cheeks. She drew her knees up to her chin and pressed her face into the word denim. Her heart thundered, her head spun and tried to make sense of what she’d seen.

Emmett scooped up the photographs and quickly flipped through them. Judging by the way the people were dressed, they were old photographs. He studied the signs and banners in the backgrounds, shrugged, and kept the pictures in his hand as he settled onto the floor beside his sister. “They’re just reunion pictures, Kace. You and Juan saw hundreds of them when you two did that project on the difference between the GAR and the UCV.”

Under different, less maddening, circumstances, she would have been proud of him for remembering the Grand Army of the Republic and the United Confederate Veterans. Most of her history lectures had gone in one ear and out the other. Tucked against his side, she reached for the photos.

“This is the May 1911 UCV reunion in Little Rock.” She held up a black-and-white reproduction of the original photo. “There were speeches, receptions, hot air balloon rides, a parade, and a Veterans’ Ball.”

“Okay.”

“This is the May 1951 UCV reunion in Norfolk Virginia. It was the 61st and final reunion.” She switched the 1911 photo for one that looked more recent. Three very old men stood front and center of a crowd of smiling people.

“What does any of that have to do with your freak out? Like I said, you’ve seen these pictures before.” Emmett eyed her carefully. He knew she was under more stress than usual. If he had to, he’d kidnap her and take her away from everything until she relaxed. Their adoptive parents wouldn’t hesitate to be his accomplices.

She tapped the space beside a dark-haired man standing near the back of the group in the 1951 photo. “This is Samuel Crowder.”

Emmett squinted at the image. He’d seen Kacy’s pictures of Captain Crowder. It could have been him in the photo or it could have been one of a thousand dark-haired men. “Kacy, Crowder died in 1863.”

“I know that,” she snapped. She flipped back to the 1911 photo and tapped the face of the same dark-haired man. “He was at the 1911 reunion, too.”

“Maybe it’s his son or a nephew. Family members went to those reunions, didn’t they?”

“Sam didn’t have any children. Neither did John. They didn’t have any other siblings. Their father died in 1857 and their mother never remarried.” She studied the photos for a moment and before holding up a black-and-white one. Her lower lip trembled and her bloodshot eyes glistened with fresh tears. “In 1913 the UCV and the GAR held a joint reunion to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg.”

“Okay.” Emmett kissed her forehead. She didn’t feel feverish. As soon as she put the photos down, he was going to bundle her up and carry her to their mother Mary. A day of coddling and Mom’s hearty vegetable soup was what Kacy needed.

“This is Sam Crowder.” She pointed to a dark-haired man then slid her finger to the man standing beside him. “This is his brother John.”

“Didn’t John die before Sam?”

“Exactly!” Kacy scrambled to her feet. She clutched the photos against her chest. “I’m going to scan these and send them to Lisa. She can tell me if they’ve been doctored or not. Then, I’m going to put up a request on a couple of message boards. I want to see if anyone else has seen pictures of Sam.”

Emmett hovered behind Kacy as she scanned the images, e-mailed them to her friend, and then posted messages on several Civil War-related boards. His thick fingers worked the tense muscles in her shoulders. She was wound tighter than she’d been during week before her thesis had been due.

“There. Now I just need to sit and wait.” Kacy clicked the ‘refresh’ button. There were no responses. She clicked the button again.

“Why don’t you come have lunch with me at Mom’s? You know she’s dying to see you.”

“I saw her two weeks ago. We argued because she wanted to set me up with the preacher’s son.” Kacy wrinkled her nose, shuddered. “I’ll join a convent before I let Mom set me up on any more blind dates.”

“Just for a couple of hours, Kace,” Emmett wheedled. He flashed a bright smile complete with dimples. It was a smile few women could resist. If Meghan had been over, she would have dissolved into a puddle of goo at his feet. “We’ll play cards and talk Mom into making banana pudding.”

“Why are you so determined to get me out of…” she broke off and glared at him angrily. “You think I’m losing my mind, don’t you?”

“No.” Emmett covered her hand before she could refresh the page again. He lifted her off the chair and folded her into his arms. “I think you’re tired, stressed, and maybe a little obsessed.”

“I mean, I’ve been crazy before,” she continued, voice muffled by her brother’s shirt. “It’s not like I’m a stranger to the mental ward. You and Mom have probably been sitting around waiting for this day to come.”

Emmett winced. He still remembered the skinny, big-eyed little girl his parents had brought home. Found covered in blood, wandering, and rambling about black-eyed women wearing old-fashioned clothes, the authorities had institutionalized the five-year-old with the letters K and C tattooed on the inside of her left wrist. His mother had been a nurse at the hospital and had fallen instantly in love with the quiet girl. By the time she was seven, Kacy Adams was Emmett’s new sister.

“That’s not fair, Kace. We’ve never done anything like that.” He didn’t bother to point out that there had been times he’d worried about her mental state. She tended to get lost in her studies and block out the rest of the world.

Kacy deflated. Her indignation dissipated. She hated hurting Emmett’s feelings. He’d always been her rock and her biggest supporter. He’d even helped smooth the way with their mother when she’d cut all her hair off and dyed the blonde curls a rich brown her senior year of high school.

“I’m sorry, Em. I didn’t mean it. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do need a break.”

He grinned and ruffled her hair. “It’ll be fun, baby girl. I’ll even let you when a round of Phase 10 or two.”

“Shut up.” She ducked to avoid the hand descending towards her head a second time. “You know I always kick your ass at that game.”

“Mom and I have been practicing. You’re going down this time, you little cheater.”

Kacy laughingly rolled her eyes. They always accused her of cheating. It wasn’t her fault she was better at finding patterns and had better luck. Emmett had been right. They weren’t even at their mother’s yet and she already felt a thousand times better.

The scathing retort she had planned withered on her tongue. Her e-mail program dinged, letting her know she had a new message. Emmett once again hovered over her shoulder while she opened the e-mail. It was a response from messages she’d posted. A high school history teacher in the area had not only seen her on television but had some information on the Crowder family.

“I don’t like this.”

“You’re so suspicious,” she teased Emmett. “You should have been a cop.”

“He’s a history teacher, for crying out loud. How dangerous could he be? He’s just a fan.”

“Or a murderer.” Emmett rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms over his chest. His expression was grim. “I want to be here when you meet him.”

“Okay. I’ll tell him to be here this afternoon. No, don’t give me that look. My address is in the phone book and anyone with half a brain could get it.” She quickly typed out a response to the e-mail. Once it was sent, she pushed her chair away from the desk. “Can you entertain yourself while I change clothes?”

“He’s not coming for tea, Kace. He’s coming so you two can get your geek on.”

“Thanks.” She popped up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “There’s soda in the fridge and Oreos in the cookie jar. Try not to make a mess, ‘kay?”

She was tying the laces of her tennis shoes when she heard the doorbell ring. She glanced down at her silver watch and frowned. It had only been five minutes. Surely Mr. Thorne J. Dow wasn’t that close. She smoothed down her blue sweater and met Emmett in the living room.

He stayed at her back like a menacing bodyguard while she peered through the peephole. The man had his face turned away so she couldn’t see him. After wiping damp palms on her jeans, she steadied her racing heart and pulled open the door.

“Ms. Adams? I’m Thorne Dow,” a masculine voice greeted, the barest hint of a Southern accent evident.

The breath left her lungs in a whoosh. Her vision swam. Her knees wobbled. If it hadn’t been for Emmett’s arm around her waist, she would have fallen to the ground. Tears stung her eyes and bile rose in her throat. She had lost her mind.

Thorne J. Dow was Union Lt. John T. Crowder.