I can’t believe it’s mid-August! Where did the summer go? Yesterday was the first time the pool felt cool. 🙁 I’ll be lucky to get a full month more of swimming. And, tomorrow the kids go back to school—including the almost-5-year-old. Her mom and I are feeling a little sad about that. The baby’s growing up. Double- 🙁

In the meantime, I have plenty on my plate to keep me too busy to cry, and I’d better get to it. Hope you enjoy the excerpt and the contest!

For a chance to win one of my Uncharted SEALs stories,
winner’s choice, answer me this…
If you were dating a SEAL, where would you prefer to vacation?
Mexico? Destin? Fiji?

Through Her Eyes

Ex-SEAL and expert sniper, Wolf Kinkaid, is taking a little downtime while he considers his options. Being wooed by two elite spec ops groups, he’s enjoying Charter Group’s beach house in Cancun while he considers his options. A loner by nature and occupation, he wonders if he’ll ever really be able to connect to people around him. Afraid his loner nature will sentence him to spending his life alone, he’s not even sure he wants to continue looking down a scope, even if the pay’s good.

Bounty hunter Piper Ames loves the adrenaline rush she gets from her high-stakes hunts, but, now, she has time on her hands as she waits for her collar to pop up his head, so she can take him down. While she’s waiting, it doesn’t hurt that a big, buff, ex-military type is staying right next door. Not the least shy about going after what she wants, she’s surprised when he’s equally as aggressive. Their chemistry is off the charts, and the sex is the hottest she’s ever had.

While Wolf and Piper connect in the only ways their independent natures allow, danger lurks. When, at last, her target arrives, guns blazing, Wolf and Piper have to pull together to make it out alive.

Order Ebook: Kindle | Nook | Kobo | iBooks

Excerpt

Wolf hated the wait. Especially in the white-hot heat. Even at this elevation, the sun was merciless. Hot wind gusting through the pass provided no relief.

Sweat dripped from his hair down the side of his cheek, but he ignored it. His muscles cramped. His eyes grew dry. And still, he kept staring through the scope of his Macmillan Tac-50, watching the long line of insurgents trudge along the goat trail of a road below his position. Waiting for them to get close enough…

“A thousand yards. They’re coming within range,” came the voice of the mission commander through the comm in his ear.

Wolf reached for his box magazine, sitting on a rock beside him. He’d been heating the rounds in the sun to increase their range, but now, the time had come to lock and load.

Below were a couple dozen of the enemy, seemingly unaware of the weapons trained on them from above. All fresh from a battle in Ghazni. Intel said his target, Khalil Alam, would be among the group. So far, he’d searched every face but hadn’t found one that perfectly matched the grainy photo lying beside his mat.

The soldiers were all dark-haired. All wore beards or had the lower halves of their faces covered by cloths. His mark should be a little taller and gaunt. He’d spent months hiding in the mountains, orchestrating attacks from afar—a high-ranking Taliban commander who’d stepped out of the shadows to lead their latest attack, which left half a dozen Marines dead and fifteen more wounded, some maimed for life.

Again, the silence was broken. “Crosswind from the east.”

Wolf didn’t have the luxury of waiting for the wind to die down. He might have only one shot. One kill. If he was lucky.

Beside him, his spotter shifted, crunching the sand. “I see him,” he whispered, although they were nearly a mile away from the rag-tag army ambling through the mountain pass. “He’ll be coming over the hill, facing you. Best time to clip him. Nine hundred twenty yards.”

Quickly, Wolf rechecked the data he’d entered in his scope. He’d maxed out the windage. Maxed out the elevation drum. He’d need a one mil lead—aiming just ahead of the target for the four seconds the .50 Cal round took to travel.

Five seconds later, a tall angular figure climbed the trail. A weapon was slung over his bony shoulders. His robe billowed outward, caught by a sudden breeze.

Wolf kept his sight trained on the enemy’s center of mass—he’d aim for his heart. The distance was too far to even attempt a head shot. But he wasn’t the only sniper on this mission, although his was the most important target.

“Snipers, everyone found their mark?” their commander’s voice sounded. “Chime in when you have your target.”

In quick succession, the snipers called out.

“Sniper One, ready.”

“Sniper Two, ready.”

Wolf squinted down his scope at the tall Afghan he was about to take out. “Sniper Three, ready.”

He kept his breathing even, readying for the command to kill. All shots had to break at the same time, or the group below would scramble for cover and the opportunity would be lost.

“This is Foxtrot One. I have control. Shoot on my command.”

Wolf expelled a quick breath then drew in a long one and held it.

“Three…two…one…execute.”

He pulled the trigger and stared down his scope.

Beside him, his spotter cursed. He’d followed the vapor trail of the round Wolf fired and watched it splash in the dirt. He called out adjustments, which Wolf made in a second.

Still staring down the scope, he watched as everyone around Khalil Alam dove for cover. Not his target. The Afghan insurgent stood still, his head raised, his gaze narrowing as though he could see Wolf where he lay with his rifle, hidden in the shadows of a large rock. And then he did a strange thing.

Khalil Alam raised his arms out to his sides and bared his teeth.

Again, Wolf took aim and fired.

This time, his target dropped.

But so did the much-smaller figure behind him. One with a beardless, bloodied face…

Wyatt “Wolf” Kinkaid awoke and threw off the covers tangled around his legs. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he set his elbows on his knees as he drew in deep, cleansing breaths.

He didn’t know why that particular kill haunted him. He’d killed kids before. Some intentionally. But that one…

Maybe because of the shock frozen in the young boy’s eyes. Khalil Alam’s son, he’d been told later. No blame, no censure came from his team. The boy was a terrorist in the making, following in his father’s footsteps. A “preemptory kill” someone who’d been trying to be helpful said. And yet, the memory still sickened him.

He wiped a hand over his face. Sleep-time was over. Daylight was burning. Not that he was on any kind of schedule. The sound of surf washing against sand in the distance reminded him he was as far from Afghanistan as a man could be. Rising, he strode to the window overlooking the beach. The large sea-side villa hadn’t impressed him nearly as much as the sight of the strip of pristine white sand. By the placement of the sun, he’d guess the time was around nine AM. He’d slept a full nine hours. And he wasn’t dead.

The peaceful view didn’t do a thing to slow his heart rate. To shake off the last sticky spider webs of his nightmare, he turned, rifled through the duffel sitting on the floor beside him, and pulled out his spotting scope. Cupping the compact Hensoldt in his hand, he stared through the lens.

If he’d needed confirmation before, he knew he was losing it when a few adjustments brought the surf closer, and, at last, he stopped hearing his pulse pound against his temples. Maybe he wasn’t meant to be up close and personal with anything. Ever.

The name he’d been given by the Team—Lone Wolf, which had been shortened over time—had never felt truer. Read the rest of this entry »

On August 21st, Lion in the Shadows releases! It’s a very erotic story—so consider yourself warned! 🙂

This opening scene I’m sharing today includes details of rescue procedures I gleaned from reading articles and speaking to a fireman in the Texas Hill County, who specialized in cave rescues. That was one fun conversation!

In Lion, things get hot…and weird…really quick. So, if you love a hot paranormal with hints of ghosts/demon possession/shapeshifting, Lion might be what you need.

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, tell me whether you could see yourself crawling through caves for fun!

Lion in the Shadows

When a teen dies inside an unexplored cave, it’s Lani Kimmel’s job to bring him out. This is not a pleasant job, but one she’s handled many times as a member of the local fire department and an expert in cave rescues. The trek into the cave awakens a creature that will push this no-nonsense woman’s boundaries of belief and test her newly emerging love for one man.

Rafe Chavez, the new sheriff in this small Texas town, has already staked a claim on Lani. He’s a man with a goal in his sights, and he’s not letting anything get in his way—until he dreams about an Indian brave who died in that unexplored cave, savaged by a mountain lion. When his dreams cross into reality, Rafe realizes he may be possessed by the Indian’s spirit—but the spirit isn’t alone, and it wants Lani.

Just when Lani’s resistance to his erotic persuasion crumbles, Rafe must push her away to protect her from another creature that has also cast its gaze upon her…

Pre-order your copy now!

Excerpt

The earth shook, and the air stirred.

Sounds other than the usual chirping of cave crickets and the incessant drip of water intruded on the sleeper’s dreams, echoing down the cavern. Voices, laughter, feet scraping over stone.

The sleeper opened his eyes and found that, for once, the exercise wasn’t futile. A sliver of grayish light penetrated the gloom.

He stretched, willing blood to quicken through his body, to heat and ease muscles that had remained dormant too long.

Then a new scent—musky, warm-blooded, human—entered his tomb. He rolled to his feet.

Then gathering his strength he roared up the cave wall.

* * *

Lani Kimmel drove over the cattle guard onto the gravel road that marked the beginning of rancher McKelvey’s property. She followed the ridgeline of the steep, oak and cedar-covered hill, bouncing in her seat despite her truck’s heavy-duty shocks. The tires churned in caliche, the fine sandstone gravel pinging on the wheel wells.

She tried to keep her mind focused on the task of keeping her pickup on the rough road and away from the reason she climbed to the remote spot. But her stomach already burbled, her palms grew moist, and that little voice in the back of her mind—the one that sounded like her father’s—taunted her, What do you think you’re playin’ at, little girl? You aren’t strong enough.

As she rounded a curve, a long line of parked vehicles forced her to pull onto the shoulder to continue forward. Further along, she passed an EMS unit, two county squad cars, and the trucks and SUVs belonging to other members of the volunteer fire department. Parking in a narrow space between two vehicles, she had her door open before the engine finished chugging to a halt. Heat blasted her, and she grabbed her volunteer’s baseball cap to shield her eyes from the bright afternoon sun. Then she slid her duffel from behind her seat, kicked a booted heel against the door of her truck, and headed toward the mouth of the unnamed cave.

She nodded to the EMS team crouched beside two boys huddled beneath blankets, shivering despite the late afternoon heat. Compassion could have swamped her, but she quickly tamped down the emotion. If she thought too much about it, she wouldn’t be able to get through the next few hours. Their buddy likely lay on the bottom of the cave floor, and it was her job to bring him up.

Lani approached the group standing in front of a narrow black hole. Stones and gravel were already piled to the side as the men worked at widening the opening. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. “Anybody looked inside yet?”

Cale Witte, the captain of the volunteer fire department, turned and gave her a crooked smile that creased his suntanned face. “Glad you could make it, Lani. Did you bring your vertical pack?”

Lani lifted her duffel. “Got it here, boss. So, we have a drop-off? Anyone hear from the kid inside?”

He shook his head, his grave expression telling her he expected the worst. “Those skinny runts shimmied through that hole carrying ropes and Maglites,” he said, sounding disgusted. “Said they didn’t know there was another level until their friend dropped out of sight.”

Lani swore under her breath.

Cale spat a stream of chewing tobacco. “A couple of us crawled in. The entrance is blocked with loose-packed gravel and stone. It’s pretty unstable, but the cave opens wide once you’re through the mouth. About twenty feet inside, it bottoms out. We shined our lights around, but it was too deep to see much. We need to climb down.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for, huh?” Lani said, willing confidence into her voice.

He nodded. “No one knows caves like you do—that’s a fact. You better have a look for yourself.”

Randy Brandt, another member of the department, leaned on his shovel. “Think we’ve got this hole wide enough for your butt now?” His grin stretched across his handsome face.

Not for the first time, Lani thought Randy’s lean, muscled frame, and sun-tinted brown hair belonged in a firemen’s calendar. “Better put your back into it.” Lani gave him a teasing glance. “Gotta make room for that big head of yours, too.”

The men chuckled.

Lani took no offense. She’d long ago figured out she was one of the team when the men included her in the insults they traded. Besides, the banter helped drown out the voice that ate at her composure. The sooner she was in the cave—her world—the sooner she’d be in control. Read the rest of this entry »

Thank you, Delilah, for having me.

Romantic Suspense and Women’s Fiction are usually the genres I write, but when an idea came to me about an online meeting between teens, I decided to explore the possibility of writing a Young Adult story. I am a parent and yet the questions I needed answered perplexed me. How do teens interact among their peers at school? How do they cope with cliques? Do most young people tend to stereotype when meeting new students from different ethnic backgrounds? Who are their role models?

This is what I felt I knew regarding the youth of today. Exposure to technology and social media has become an integral part of their lives. They have become experts at keeping occupied on phones, texting, sharing, trolling, scrolling, and chatting. They tend to concentrate on screens and miss out on what’s going on around them. In my opinion, viewing body language, facial expressions and vocal reactions probably has become invisible.

This quote by E.E. Cummings drove me to keep digging. “It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.”

After doing extensive online research, I headed to the homes of four, male teenagers I know very well, who are close to my heart. The book I wanted to write involved teens, and I needed ideas for the leading character, so with permission, I surveyed their living quarters. It wasn’t surprising for me to see empty snack bags, cans, wrappers and beds in disarray. After that, I did a bit of private shadowing, watching them with their peers. I pretended ignorance as I asked questions about recreational drugs. Undeniably, my previous fieldwork had come in handy, except for teen language. Taking notes on acronyms proved to be the most challenging part of the personal interviews I did with the boys. Finally, after a deep breath, I felt I had enough to begin writing my story. Thus, the YA mystery novella, #heartmatch, came to life.

As readers and/or writers, what do you see as benefits or challenges with social media and the exposure to technology, including computer games? Send me a note with your thoughts and I’ll randomly choose two people to win a #heartmatch free download from Amazon and one person to receive a print book.

#heartmatch

Nineteen-year old Jason Bryant, a lost soul, has forgotten how to care anymore. The dad he loves, the friends he has grown up with, and especially his mom have abandoned him. So, he vents while he plays blood and guts computer games every waking moment. He’s out for revenge until he meets Sam.

Samantha Brown calls being home schooled—home-prisoned. Because of a life threating health condition, she lives each day as it happens. Friends have deserted her. The parents she dearly loves are overly protective. Her sterile existence is lonely, so she searches online for a friend. She runs into Jason but refuses to fess up about her condition.

Although they are complete opposites, something clicks between them. Two deprived beings intertwine. Can they save each other?

Get your copy here!

An excerpt from #heartmatch…

“Let’s exchange numbers,” he typed.

One minute later, Samantha’s phone rang. She answered the Facetime call.

“Hey, nothing’s ugly so far,” Jason said.

She moved her phone around the room. “This is where I live.”

“In a bedroom?” he asked.

“A hospital room.”

His brows furrowed.

“What happened? You have an accident?”

“I’m dying, Jason.”

She moved the phone to her IV, the heart monitor machine, her face.

Her voice trembled with emotion. “If I want to live, someone dies.”

“I don’t get it.” His stare sharpened. His gray eyes darkened. “Sam, I mean ah—” he paused. “I’m not feeling too well. I gotta go.”

About the Author

C.K. Alber, author of The Promise Series and #heartmatch, was born in Indiana and raised and educated in both Indiana and Illinois. An extended move to Europe brought about the desire to write. She had gone from the maze of corn fields and town life to historical buildings, famous paintings, the city, and the seaside. As a “people watcher” her stories and characters began to develop, her imagination went wild regarding the settings and dialogues in her head, thus, Romantic Suspense became her preferred genre. The Young Adult story she has recently written came about because of four teens close to her heart.

Now she lives in Colorado with her beloved, thirteen-year-old, rescue dog Luna. She is a dedicated Pescatarian, loves traveling between Washington DC and Colorado to visit family but is still a worldwide traveler when the occasion arises.

Buy Links for #heartmatch ebook
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_2?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=C.K.+Alber
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/heartmatch-ck-alber/1127945898;jsessionid=E98DB56F586BFB197E16201C08488B22.prodny_store02-atgap04?ean=2940155045908
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1347228511
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/heartmatch
Print on Demand: https://www.amazon.com/heartmatch-C-K-Alber/dp/1983200859/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1532540725&sr=8-1

Contact Information
www.ckalber.com
Twitter @CKAlber
https://www.facebook.com/C.K.Alber
https://www.facebook.com/C.K.Alber.Writer/
peace4all_2004@yahoo.com

UPDATE: The winner is…Maggie Toussaint!
*~*~*

My sincere thanks to Delilah for allowing me to return to her wonderful blog and share an update of Diana Cosby’s Romance Readers Build A Habitat For Humanity Home.

I contacted the Habitat For Humanity office in Grayson County, Texas, where I’ve had the honor of helping with several builds and spoke with Laurie Mealy, Executive Director. She embraced the project and was thrilled at the thought of pairing romance readers, who love stories where heroes and heroines overcome challenges to make their dreams come true, with making the dream of home ownership for a deserving family a reality.

Goal: Fund an entire home – $55,000.

I kicked off the challenge by donating $200. As I write this, we’ve raised $15,124, which includes donations from several countries. Romance readers are amazing, and I have complete faith that as the stories they love, they will continue to join together to raise the amount necessary to give a deserving family a home.

How it works:
As readers send donations to Habitat for Humanity of Grayson County for the ‘Diana Cosby’s Readers Build A Habitat For Humanity House of Love,’ the total contributions are updated below the house graphic on the upper right side of the homepage. Donations can be sent via PayPal by ‘clicking’ on the house, which takes you to the donation page, or by mailing a check or money order to:

Habitat for Humanity of Grayson County
901 N. Grand Avenue
P.O. Box 2725
Sherman, TX 75091

*Please note on your donation: ‘For the Romance Readers Build A HFH House.’

Again, my sincere thanks to Delilah for allowing me to return to her blog, and another huge thanks to everyone for helping make an incredible difference in a deserving family’s life. For when they walk into a Habitat For Humanity house, it’s more than mortar and wood, but a place where they can call home.

***ONE winner will be drawn from everyone who posts on Delilah’s blog between 29 September 2018 – August 4th 2018. The winner will receive one of my mugs and a tote.

Diana Cosby, International Best-Selling Author
https://www.dianacosby.com/
The Oath Trilogy
MacGruder Brother Series
Forbidden Series: Forbidden Legacy/Forbidden Knight/Forbidden Vow/Forbidden Alliance TBA/Forbidden Realm TBA

About the Author

A retired Navy Chief, Diana Cosby is an international bestselling author of Scottish medieval romantic suspense. Books in her award-winning MacGruder Brothers series have been translated in five languages. Diana has spoken at the Library of Congress, Lady Jane’s Salon in NYC, and appeared in Woman’s Day, on USA Today’s romance blog, “Happy Ever After,” MSN.com, Atlantic County Women Magazine, and Texoma Living Magazine.

After her career in the Navy, Diana dove into her passion – writing romance novels. With 34 moves behind her, she was anxious to create characters who reflected the amazing cultures and people she’s met throughout the world. After the release of the bestselling MacGruder Brothers series, The Oath Trilogy, and the first three books of The Forbidden Series, she’s now working on book #4, Forbidden Alliance, of the five book series.

Diana looks forward to the years of writing ahead and meeting the amazing people who will share this journey.

UPDATE: The winner is…Debra Guyette!
*~*~*

I woke to thunder showers today, so no morning pool time. And, yes, I am that spoiled. However, in my defense, I live in Arkansas. Without a pool, summers would be unlivable. The weather’s so muggy it’s like living in a sweaty armpit.

Sooooo, here I am at my desk, trying to procrastinate so I don’t have to start working again on another editing project. I’m cool once I’m “in”, but I have to drag myself to open the document, kicking and screaming. Not that I don’t love the story. So far, I do.

Back to the procrastinating thing. I spend a lot of time working on this website, so it only seems fair I should expect everyone to love it as much as I do, in all its nooks and crannies. For the most part, it’s up to date—except for the “For Readers: Free Stuff” page, since I haven’t been making trading cards or updated my bookmarks in forever. But the books…? You have plenty to peruse. So, in the interest of acquainting some of you with what’s on my site, I’m holding a scavenger hunt!

Now, this is important. YOU CANNOT POST ANSWERS TO MY QUESTIONS IN THE COMMENTS. If you do, you’ve done the work and shared the answers with everyone else, and what’s the point? You don’t want competition for the prize do you? NO! Send your answers to me PRIVATELY at Delilah@delilahdevlin.com!

Scavenger Hunt

Here are the questions…

1. What titles do I already have listed for pre-order on my Upcoming Books page?
2. Which of the future projects at the bottom of the Upcoming Books page interest you?
3. How many Standalone western titles do I have listed?
4. Which series on my By Series page would you like to see more of?
5. Tell me which story on my Short Stories page you’d most like to read. (You might get a surprise!)
6. How many people “Follow My Blog”—meaning, how many people get it sent to their email inbox!?

And the prize?  How about a signed, printed ARC of Stepbrothers Stepping Out: Ultimate Collection!

UPDATE: The winner is…Tracy Howard!
*~*~*

Hello, all! Thank you first of all to Delilah for being such a gracious hostess. Visiting here with you all is always a lot of fun.

So…birthday gifts. My birthday is this weekend. I joke about not counting the numbers anymore, but still wanting the cake and presents, but really, I do still count the numbers, even if they’re daunting. This birthday will be the first without my dad, which is not so much fun. But I have a birthday dinner date with my husband this weekend, so that will help, and my boys will come bearing gifts, but I’ll have to get my own cake, I think. Something decadent and pretty, maybe.

But I’ve been thinking about birthday gifts lately, not just because my birthday is so close, but birthday gifts in general, and from previous birthdays. To be honest, I don’t always keep track of whether a gift was for a birthday, or an anniversary, or a holiday. I only know if it’s something extra-special to me. Sitting here at my desk, I can see several gifts from previous occasions, and I know a few were birthday gifts–a little stuffed dog covered in pink hearts, a small orange traffic cone that says “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy” (my husband has a sense of humor about my writing and my love of western movies), and a candle that makes my office smell like pineapples when I light it. None of these are big gifts, but because of the thought behind them and the gift givers, they are special to me and make me smile when I look at them.

As a kid, my favorite gifts were books, no matter what the occasion. Yes, I loved if I got a new doll or something pretty, but the books were the best for me. They’re still one of my favorite things in the world.

My birthday gift to myself this weekend (besides a cake), will be a visit to the eye doctor, which is several years overdue, and an hour on the massage table. And probably some reading time, which is an all-year-round gift to myself, if I’m being honest.

In a manuscript I’m working on, the heroine has never really had anyone make a big deal over her birthday, but the hero’s family always celebrated birthdays in a huge way, so when he surprises her with a party on her birthday, she doesn’t quite know what to make of it, but it does make her see him in a very different light. How can she not fall a little more in love with him after that, even if he is totally unsuitable?

I’d love to know about some of your favorite birthday gifts from birthdays past (or present). Something you always wanted? An unexpected party? Just some alone time, maybe? I have a signed trade paperback copy of Hunting Medusa to give away–everyone who comments with their favorite birthday gift by midnight on Saturday, July 28 will be entered into a drawing for the book.

And if you’re celebrating a birthday soon, or just celebrated recently, happy birthday to you, too!

About the Author

Elizabeth Andrews has been a book lover since she was old enough to read. She read her copies of Little Women and the Little House series so many times, the books fell apart. As an adult, her book habit continues. She has a room overflowing with her literary collection right now, and still more spreading into other rooms. Almost as long as she’s been reading great stories, she’s been attempting to write her own. Thanks to a fifth grade teacher who started the class on creative writing, Elizabeth went from writing creative sentences to short stories and eventually full-length novels. Her father saved her poor, callused fingers from permanent damage when he brought home a used typewriter for her.
Elizabeth found her mother’s stash of romance novels as a teenager, and-though she loves horror- romance became her very favorite genre, making writing romances a natural progression. There are more than just a few manuscripts, however, tucked away in a filing cabinet that will never see the light of day.

Along with her enormous book collection, Elizabeth lives with her husband of more than twenty years, though no one else in the family reads nearly as much as she does. When she’s not at work or buried in books or writing, there is a garden outside full of herbs, flowers and vegetables that requires occasional attention.

Hunting Medusa
The Medusa Trilogy, Book 1

Ever since the original Medusa ticked off Athena, her cursed daughters have been paying for that mistake. To this day, successive Medusas play cat and mouse with the Harvesters.

When Kallan Tassos tracks down the current Medusa, he expects to find a monster. Instead he finds a wary, beautiful woman, shielded by a complicated web of spells that foils his plans for a quick kill and retrieval of her protective amulet.

Andrea Rosakis expects the handsome Harvester to go for the kill. Instead, his attempt to take the amulet imprinted on her skin without harming her takes her completely by surprise. And ends with the two of them in a magical bind—together.

Though there attraction is combustible, her impending PMS (Pre Magical-Curse Syndrome) puts a real damper on any chance of a relationship. But Kallan isn’t the only Harvester tracking Andi, and they must cooperate to stay one step ahead of a ruthless killer before they can have any future, together or apart.

Hello Delilah and friends, and thanks for letting me take over your blog.

Sometimes, when I try to explain to friends and co-workers (or my boss!) where my ideas come from, I get anything from a raised eyebrow to a polite “that’s interesting” or “I never would have thought of that.” Whether that’s a good or bad thing is unclear. Many of my original ideas come from the murky depths of my sleeping mind.

My latest Soul Mate release, Shifting Auras, started life in 2011 that way—as a half-remembered snippet of a dream. I wrote down what I could remember, and the germ of an idea started there. I wrote out some ideas and put the story aside. When I went back to it, a new idea started coming to me. Perhaps it was all the Marvel movies out there but I began thinking of a group of powered humans, ala the X-Men, and the government agencies they might be working through. The idea of having supernormal powers has always fascinated me. What would it mean to be telekinetic or psychic? Would it be good or bad? What would it mean for us and the world? I didn’t want to go down the road of “mutants are evil” as some current shows and movies have done, so I centered it around a shadow government agency. It’s been so much fun to write the series, and there are more books to come. Part of the challenge is finding powers for my characters. Outside of the popular ones, there are many others to play with, and I’m trying them all out.

I grew up reading anything that my parents had in the house. As it happened, much of what they had was science fiction and fantasy, so I skewed toward that from an early age. When I was younger it wasn’t an accepted thing to do, but I found my tribe, and we wrought havoc together. I could identify with Maya Wingfield, the heroine in Shifting Auras, who always felt like a bit of an outcast. I think that’s what makes these sorts of stories interesting. It’s the idea of not quite fitting in, of not belonging, whether you are a newcomer to school, entering an unfamiliar work place for the first time, or visiting a city where you are unsure of your welcome…or you have the ability to know what a person is thinking. I see it as a burden as much as it is a boon. The need to belong, to find people who accept you, is such a part of the human condition that it cuts across all social strata, whoever you are.

I will pick two people who answer this question to get a free ARC of Shifting Auras. If you could have a superpower, what would it be and why? Post your answer at https://www.facebook.com/ClaireDavonindieauthor/

Again, thank you to Delilah for the opportunity to interact with all you fine folks. If you’re curious about me, I can be reached at the following places in addition to my Facebook page noted above.

Website: www.clairedavon.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ClaireDavon
Newsletter/mailing list: https://clairedavon.com/mailing-list/

Here is a snippet of Shifting Auras, available exclusively on Amazon…

Maya backed away from him and toward the door, her hands going up in front of her body. Could she get out if she needed to and start screaming for help? Or could he use his power, whether telekinesis or something else, before she got a word out?

“Relax,” Ian said, his voice rising in jagged syllables. “Crikey, your emotions are written all over your face. The sensitive in Hammersmith can probably hear you. Take it down a level.”

He filled the room. She had no doubt he was faster than her and could get to her before she could yank open the door. He probably didn’t even need to move to shut it.

“I’m not here to hurt you, Maya. Bollocks, can’t you feel that? Reach in and find out if I’m telling the truth. I’ll let you.”

Bobbie made a noise and began to retch on the comforter. The air conditioner filtered the sour smell into the room.

“I . . .” she said and stopped. Touching his mind, she felt his shield again, a malleable surface she wanted—needed—to see beyond. A beat of anger at her friend pulsed under the shield before he lowered it just a little. He burned with determination and a sense of mission, but there was also sensual awareness pulsing under the skin. It was something she’d never touched before in a man. It glowed hot with primal need, searing through her and manifesting as red in his aura.

Maya concentrated on her breathing until she was lightheaded from hyperventilating. Putting a hand on her wrist Maya was relieved to feel her heartbeat slowing. Ian’s hands were overlapping on his belt buckle, a posture of waiting but not of ease. She noted with little surprise that his palms had a faint red glow in the center. Telekinetic, then. No surprise. He could, in fact, shut the door even if she got it open. She was trapped inside with someone of unknown motives, who may not have her best interests in mind. Universe rarely did, from what her parents had said.

“Um,” she said and stopped. After several moments of silence Maya relaxed and inclined her head. “You’re a big man and the whole thing is a bit sketchy, don’t you think?”

“It’s dodgy, luv, I get that. Do you think I’m dangerous?”

Maya swallowed, wishing she had a glass of water. Silence filled the room, punctuated only by Bobbie’s piteous noises. She noticed that he hadn’t made any move to go from the room. His aura was barely visible in the dim light. Pink and blue banded together, not mixing but staying distinct. Compassion, then, and dedication. No darker emotions, although something lay deep inside, but it was in a place she couldn’t get to.

“Not dangerous per se,” she said. “Not safe either. Thank you for helping Bobbie.”

Ian made an impatient gesture with his hands, waving them first toward Bobbie and then Maya.

“There is a lot we need to discuss.”

“Please,” she said, putting a hand to her head, feeling an incipient headache begin. “Just go.”

He opened his mouth but then shut it. Still he waited, his heavy scrutiny pleading with her to change her mind. She pointed to the door, aware she was being rude, but in that moment not caring. Too much had happened, and she needed him gone.

He retrieved a business card from his wallet and handed it to her. Their hands clasped momentarily, and electricity danced down her forearm. Without looking, Maya curled her fingers around it, but still gestured toward the door. Finally, Ian nodded.

“Call if you need me. We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t,” she replied. “Thank you but I have no interest in any of your groups.”

“You will.” With that, he made a short bow, spun on his heel, and left.

Maya leaned against the door after he had gone. He felt so familiar, but he was Universe. Never trust the government, that’s what her parents had said. Even if she felt like she should.