Thursday, January 28, 2016

Tasty Thursday

I'm taking this snippet again from my current WIP Traces of Poppy. This is Drayden's point of view and is taken from the last section I wrote.


"How do I know you aren’t just trying to get close to me to suck out my soul? You ate the beast's soul didn't you?" She tied the material around her calf and began shoving things back in her bag, carefully keeping track of him at the same time.

He had devoured the soul of the wild creature out of instinct. He didn't mean to. His emotions had overwhelmed him. "You were in danger. Does it matter how I made the beast stop coming for you?" He had saved her, which was the right thing to do. Anger flared at her lack of gratitude toward his actions.

"It matters to me. Don't come any closer." She stood, wobbled, and regained her balance. She flung the pack around her shoulders.

"I saved your life. You wouldn't even be here if I hadn't come along!" He nearly screamed out the words as his skin seared with the heat of madness. His fist closed into a tight ball. "You are an ungrateful little—"

She bolted.

Drayden threw his arms up in frustration. How was he ever going to get her hair if he kept scaring her away? He sniffed the air and followed the smell of blood. In a blink he was right behind her. Another blink and he stopped in front of the female. "I can smell your blood. No use running. Or hiding for that matter."

She back peddled and headed for a tree. He blinked again blocking her off. Her breaths came fast and hard. Once she seemed to catch it, her lips thinned and she glared at him. "What do you want from me?"

"To help. You're hurt." He pointed at her leg. Once he earned some of her trust he'd try to get her hair. As it was, she wouldn't let him near her and he didn't see it happening anytime soon either.

"Drow don't help."

"I'm not an elfing drow!" Yet...

"Right because when you yell and your skin is all charred with your veins coming to the top like every other drow in this realm... you're what? A fairy princess?"

Drayden took an angry stomp forward. He clenched his teeth trying to bite back words he knew he wouldn't be able to take back. He cracked his knuckles and took a deep breath letting it exhale slowly, trying to regain some semblance of peace. She stood there and stared at him. "As I said the feral is strong, but I have not turned fully. I wish you no harm." He took a step forward and she stepped backward. She was going to run again. Drayden looked down at her feet anticipating the moment she would flee. Mere seconds. He blinked at the same time, grabbing a hold of her. He needed to immobilize the female...


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Thursday, January 21, 2016

Tasty Thursday

I've been working on Traces of Poppy still and here's a little snippet from that wip in Poppy's perspective...


     "You were expected. Is it safe to assume the nightmares have begun?" Idis poured water into a pot set in the middle of her hut with fire crackling below.

     Poppy put her hand up to her mouth unsure of how this human new of her dreams. She stuttered, "Yes." Then tucked a piece of hair behind her ear careful of the pointed end. I fear the feral has me."

     Dreams had always been a part of Poppy's family history...but hers were set in hell. At least Poppy's perceived hell...the drow. She knew what her nightmares meant. She came from a long line of elves who dreamed of their soulmate. Not in the traditional sense of seeing or hearing or even dream touching. Instead, as her soulmate drew nearer, her dreams would increase in strength, vividness, and frequency. It would be the only sign her mate could be found.

     While Mother always claimed the dreams would be pleasant, as hers were, Poppy found them hellmares instead. She could see in the very underbelly of the drow, feel the clutch of the feral's dark and twisted barbs. Perhaps instead of her mate, she would turn drow. That's why she'd gone to see Idis...she needed answers, needed a way to fix whatever horror her body faced.

     "The darkness doesn't have you child, but fate does," Idis said as she dropped herbs into the cooking pot.

     "Fate?" Poppy side stepped around the witch to get a better look at the females face.

     "She must bleed in the age of nightmares. Your mother, rest her soul, used to come to me for advice on the matter. You are fated to bleed in the age of nightmares and since your nightmares have come to blossom I can only assume the age is now."

     Poppy stared at the old woman, her gray hair pulled up, lines etching her face, but her eyes were so bright with intelligence. "Mother would have told me." The dread she'd felt upon entering coiled inside.

     "She had considered it. Was a topic of much discussion between us. But in the end, if she would have told you before you needed to hear it, you would have only obsessed over the fate possibly making it come to pass much quicker than it needed." The witch looked down at her pot.


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Thursday, January 14, 2016

A Taste of Thursday

Here is a short snippet I wrote- I have not decided if I should expand this into a full story- what do you all think? Let me know in the comments if I should make this a full story...


"If they stay, I stay." Kilsa glared at the whisp handler. His bulky frame blocked her from moving toward the tiny creatures. "I won't let you kill them for their dust." If he wouldn't move, she'd invade his bubble and hope her elven aura had enough power to make him move.

" Kilsa... Step 'way or I'll be forced to handle ya as needed." The handler walked toward her. Kilsa stood her ground. The whisps had saved her a full moon ago, she intended to repay the favor.

"You. Step. Away." Kilsa let her outrage boil over. Her skin took on the red shade of her anger expanding her aura beyond her body, and crashed into his, knocking the brute of an elf on his ass.

His eyes bulged and his mouth fell open. Kilsa stared down on him as she stepped between his legs. "Give me the key." She held out her hand.

The handler closed his mouth and his grey eyes took on an icy look. Her skin chilled shooting goosebumps running over her flesh. His auro...he could do the same magic. Kilsa blinked, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.

"I think not li'l female." The handler stood dusting himself off. Kilsa frozen in place. "I'm damn sorry to do this to ya. But ya lef' me no choice." His large hand touched her cheek and his eyes softened.

Kilsa frowned. He had no right to touch her unless...

"They're for our weddin' love."


Want to read some other great the image below after you leave a comment and find a few more...

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

Springtime Symbolism with Katherine McIntyre.

Guest post by Katherine McIntyre

      I pay close attention to symbolism with nature when I write my stories, and some of my favorite things to focus on are the seasons. The chill of winter has a place in harsher stories, just as the lazy days of summer make for sweeter reads. So, unsurprisingly, my latest release Hunting for Spring has a lot of references to the season. Both Brenna and Conor have seen a lot of bleak days, and throughout the story they’re searching for some rejuvenation—for a reason to hope again.

      Not only does spring symbolize rebirth, but growth as well, and throughout the story both characters grow immensely. Conor’s so averse to the loneliness that he’s followed his father’s orders all these years, even though he finds the hate-filled dogma his father spews to be repugnant. It’s not until he befriends Brenna that he finds the strength to rebel, since she expands his view of the supernatural, which had been limited. After all, hunters tend to end up slaying the things that go bump in the night, not making connections.

      For Brenna, her growth comes from a different place. She’s spent her entire life as an outsider so she’s built up a healthy distrust of people, preferring to keep them at bay. Yet Conor is kind enough to melt those barriers, and strong enough to keep persevering when obstacles get in their way. She ends up falling for him despite her immense fear of vulnerability, and the way their relationship blossoms is as fragile as a new bud in spring.

      There was a reason I came up with the title for this story last. Watching their love unfurl was incredibly enjoyable, and once I began the edits, I spotted all the connections to the season of growth and rebirth that ultimately led to Hunting for Spring.


      Hunters are a lonely breed, and Conor’s no exception, until the day he meets Brenna. Even though she slinks in unannounced and kills the wight he was hunting down, the girl’s a mystery and he can’t get that blinding smile or those gorgeous curves off his mind. Since they’re both after the same caster who’s unleashing these monsters, he suggests teaming up, and despite her initial reluctance, the hungry way she scans him down promises something powerful.

      However, her secrets have repercussions, and faster than Conor can lift his Glock, he’s drawn into the web of kidnappings and Unseelie mischief, all concealing the machinations of a darker foe—one that plans to bring Philly to ruin.


      If Conor Malone could ditch the responsibilities of his clan and somehow forget all the horrors he’d seen, he wouldn’t be stuck tromping through a nasty part of West Philly, trying to avoid stares and the permeating stench of bird shit. But no, the burden of tracking mythical beasts fell to those with the bad luck of being born into the wrong family. His family tree hearkened back to the likes of the Inquisition and Van Helsing—the original warriors against things that went bump in the night—hunters.

      After passing the first couple of boarded-up houses and catching movement behind the cracked windows, Conor had his hand on his Glock. Despite the supernatural splatter board of blood, guts, and questionable ooze he’d witnessed through the years, he didn’t forget the atrocities humans were capable of.

      Dark gray clouds collected overhead, laden and ready to spill over, although a sunny day wouldn’t make these streets any safer. High-crime cities like this one were the epicenters of the worst bloodsuckers, Unseelie fae, and a hodgepodge variety of nightmares crawling through the streets. Even with his trusty leather jacket on, he shivered as the cold wind swept the first few drops of rain to splash against his cheeks.

      Because an easy hunt was too much to ask for. He heaved out a sigh as he picked up his pace toward the end of the block where the wight had last been spotted.

      For the third time this week, one of those buggers cropped up in Philly, and he began to disbelieve coincidence. Move here, they said. You’ll always have work, they said. His dad’s friends might not be liars, but they were definitely dicks.

Hunting for Spring Links:

Author Bio:

      A modern day Renaissance-woman, Katherine McIntyre has learned soapmaking, beer brewing, tea blending, and most recently roasting coffee. Most of which make sure she’s hydrated and bathed while she spends the rest of her time writing. With a desire to travel and more imagination than she knows what to do with, all the stories jumping around in her head led to the logical route of jotting them down on paper. She writes novels with take-charge women, ragtag crews, and emotionally savvy men. High chances for a passionate speech thrown into the mix.

Author Links:

Friday, January 8, 2016

Flash Fiction Friday: Owned Thoughts

Owned Thoughts

(100 words)

I gazed at the image of the dominatrix with three male subs. I would never be able to do what she could do. I ran my fingertips over the leather collar embracing my small neck. He owned me- body and soul. Owning another has never held interest for me. I enjoy being owned. The feel of someone having control over my body, His control. The power, the sacrifice of myself to his care.

As the woman stared down at me, I touched myself as Master demanded. Rubbing until my fingers coated in want...staring at a woman and thinking of Him.


Click on the image below to find out how several amazing writers get inspired by this picture. Each has 100 words, no more, no less, to come up with their version which they do so well. Please click on the image...

Thursday, January 7, 2016

Tasty Thursday

From my current elf WIP: Traces of Poppy

394 words

      Drayden could feel it heavy in his soul. An all-consuming despair that wouldn't go away unless he could find the one thing unique to him in order to cure the darkness lurking just beyond. He would end up the slave of an elf disease known as the Feral. Anger filled his heart, it wasn't supposed to come, yet here the Feral was to take over his essence, to corrupt it, to break him. Drayden flung his cup across the kitchen. It shattered along the solid wood wall. His body tensed and he ground his teeth. There was not an elfing thing he could do to stop it. No elf knew what would cure the Feral. Each elf either found the cure or didn't based on needs. And to become a drow, living underground because of a disease, to eat other elves' souls… Disgust gathered in his stomach and left a sour taste in the back of his mouth. He had to find a way to stop it.

      "Throwing things again I see. The Feral have you all choked up?" The voice came from the gnome, Wicka, Drayden hired to clean up. She was okay for a gnome. Her blonde ponytail bobbed as she stretched her short form up the wall to clean off the coffee.

      "Stay out of my business, gnome," Drayden warned. He didn't mind the species so much, but they weren't exactly high up in the elfin social structure either. They did odd jobs, most of them dirty. But they were good people in general. Happy little folks who sang a lot.

      "Wicka." She didn't even stop to look at him. They'd discussed her name several times over the last week since he'd hired her.

      "What do you know of the Feral?" Drayden propped his feet up on the chair next to him and slumped back to glare at her. His people didn't like to discuss their cursed disease to other species. He doubted a great deal that she knew much more than its name and that it had to do with elves. Most species knew two things about the elven race, there were elves and then there were drow. Hardly anyone other than an elf knew the drow were once elves.

      "I know of a witch who could help you cure it." Wicka turned to pierce him with bright green eyes.

Be sure to check out more tasty treats from others: Visit the list by clicking the image below...

Wednesday, January 6, 2016

Paranormal Love Wednesday

It has been a while since I participated in one of these hops, and since one of my goals is to be more active posting on my blog, I thought I'd jump right back in.

If you want to visit more authors with great reads in the hop- either just because or maybe to find a new read: Click here

Here's mine...

excerpt from my short story Demon Song

     He didn't advance further upon her. What did he want? Amelia had a sudden urge to run her fingers over his curled horns, to see if his skin was soft like satin or hard like steel. She shook her head, resisting the desire to touch him even though her body stood. Twigs fell from her arms and hair. "Who are you?"

     "Vayne." His voice was a whispering growl, gravelly but sensual, rolling out of his mouth and making the hairs on her arms stand.

     "What do you want from me?" A breeze drifted in the moonlight, had it turned night already where had the time gone, causing a chill to slide down her neck. She didn't dare take her eyes off the demon. Her heart thundered in her chest, begging her to run from the evil, but her feet stayed firmly planted on the ground, not even a twitch.

     "A mate. I know what you are."

     Amelia closed her eyes as his voice rumbled out, caressing her. How did he do that? "I'm nothing, a simple human."

    Vayne closed the distance between them and his hand reached out for her before he closed his midnight black fist and dropped it to his naked side. "You are not nothing and far from simple."


     Amelia has heard a song coming from the pool since she was a little girl. She hadn't expected a seductive demon to be the one singing to her. When the creature shows himself all of her memories come flooding back with an unexpected fire.

Buy link: Amazon

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

At the Top of my Bucket List

     I don't have great grand, plans and places I want to go or things I want to do. My bucket list consists of what I believe are realistic...which means I can achieve them in my lifetime.
Do I want to go to fancy places like Paris and Italy...sure... if I ever get the chance...but putting it on my bucket list when I know it's unlikely something I can do realistically... seems like a way to ask myself to fail at something I shouldn't be failing at.

So the top 3 things on my bucket list:

3) Write as many books as one of my favorite authors.

2) Spend the rest of my life with the man I love and family.

1) Be the kind of person who makes others look forward to another day, another smile, another night, another piece of happiness.

What's one thing on your bucket list?

Friday, January 1, 2016

Excerpt from book # 2 Impure Magic

*This is not edited and will likely not be the final version*

Impure Magic (Book # 2) Excerpt

Desiderus stepped back. "He did what?"

"Well I'm hoping you'll tell me. You want to help? Go make sure adonia's still alive. And get out before Jeremy sees you. He has no clue about our bond bargain or what I had to do to retrieve him from hell and out of his bargain with Ba'al." Haven turned and pinned him with a glare as if it was all his fault. Well it kind of was, but he's a demon. Humans don't go around expecting lions not to eat their prey, even if they seem innocent enough. How could Haven expect him not to take souls to hell for Ba'al?

Desiderus grinned. He focused on his amusement over her keeping that little tidbit of a secret from her brother. Oh the fun of blackmailing his little human would be invigorating. He liked her riled up. "You know he'll find out sooner or later."

"It will be later. Much much later. Get out of here and let me know what you find. Adonia isn't answering her phone."

Desiderus playfully bowed before her then envisioned the witch's house shop with the wrap around porch. Demon magic pulled him into the either and he walked out of the transportation without a hitch in his step. The first thing he smelled was blood. Stale, but there. Perhaps some trouble had befallen the witch after all. Could Jeremy have done it? Desiderus thought back to Jeremy sniffling in ba'als cage terror seeping from him. He was a pathetic human. He wouldn't have killed the human.

Desiderus sprinted up the steps and knocked on the door. No harm checking before bursting inside. Oddly he didn't feel the magic guard Adonia usually had up around her shop. He pulled his hand up to knock again and the door flew open.

"Jerem– oh it's you." Adonia looked to the left and right of Desiderus.

"It smells like blood here. What are you up to little witch?" Desiderus rose a brow.

"None of your business. Have you seen Jeremy? He bolted and I couldn't catch him." Adonia rubbed her forehead. Her red hair strung out frazzled.

"Seen. No. But Haven probably has. Did you try her?"

"Jeremy busted my phone. I was hoping to do a locate spell but my magic has..." Adonia looked own at her hands. "Been on the fritz so to speak."

"You did a spell to curb the human's magic addiction correct?"

"Yeah, last week. He seemed fine. Hell I was fine and then yesterday I noticed–" Adonia glared at Desiderus. "Why do you want to know?"

Desiderus put his hand sup in mock surrender. "No harm. Just inquiring. I could assist if needed."

Her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. "I don't need demon help. It's bad enough you and Haven are bound and I can't tell Jeremy about it. He'd freak. So no, your help is not needed. You just stay out of this."

"I can take a hint," Desiderus said. The fact that he felt sorely left out put a strange human feeling inside him. Though he wasn't sure if it was sadness at being discluded or the odd desire he had to help.

If he had to be honest with himself, he'd been feeling a lot of things recently. A desire to be closer to haven. Want... no needing to be involved in her life. At every turn, though, she blocked him. The bond was effecting them both but he didn't like the way it was backlashing on him. He didn't want to feel human. He'd rather pretend haven didn't affect him so easily, but his body refused to let that stand. Desiderus needed to get the blue eyed Haven out out of his head. A good fuck would do him some good. In the las few weeks he'd been hovering around haven hoping to get closer to her.

That, apparently, wasn't working and his constant hard on was sure it needed some service attention. It was time to seek some carnal fun elsewhere. A little more fucking would be just what his body needed to let loose. Maybe he could will away all those...feelings.

Desiderus closed his eyes and listened to the ether. Searching for that lustful pull from a human female already under one of ba'als contracts. Bargains always needed to be made and since he could see peoples true desires and wants, even the ones they kept from themselves, seduction was easier than taking candy from a baby.

Desiderus felt the familiar pull and he let himself go to the female calling. When he appeared before her, Desiderus grinned. This would be fun.

A blonde kneeled before him. She had a plain black T-shirt and a pair of short shorts that hid next to nothing. The strangest thing happened as he looked her over...

His cock deflated.