The Dark Fairy contest continues. See Monday’s blog for details—then post a comment today for another chance to win!

On Friday, my husband and I will be celebrating our thirty-third anniversary. I always kid him that he owes me TWO presents since we renewed our vows on our fifteenth wedding anniversary 😉 The last thirty three years haven’t been easy—we’ve had our share of spats, generally because of outside pressures that make us snap at each other because we can’t say what we’re thinking to the person who really deserves it. But through it all, I’ve always known Gizmo Guy would be there, a sounding board, someone I could turn to in those dark wee hours and unload all my worries.

I noticed that about him from our very first date—that he’d listen to what I say and not fob it off as unimportant or worse, me being overly-emotional or ridiculous. I’d say something, he’d listen and comment in his usual soft thoughtful way. No judgment, just quiet reason. Which he would then often follow it up with a very sly joke. He still does, and I hope that he knows that I’ll always listen to him too. (Actually, he does know that—but it took him about four months to figure that out because I can be rather…passionate…about topics but I’ll always respect someone else’s opinion.) Even before we were lovers, we were friends. He’s still my best friend even after all these years.

It wasn’t until I started writing this post that I realized all of my stories are about friends-to-lovers. They weren’t necessarily best friends at the start of the story, but every single one of my couples have known each other for a while before they start dating. There’s already a certain amount of trust established, and often a fair bit of carefully hidden lust.

It’s true with my upcoming release, Deliberate Deceptions too, but this time I switched things up. Chad and Lauren had not only been best friends, they’d been married for several years. Except they lost the trust that is so essential to a good relationship which doomed their marriage—and their friendship.

When I wrote Personal Protection back in 2008, I already had it in the back of my head that Chad was divorced and that he regretted it, that he’d never stopped loving his wife (I’ve cleaned it up a bit and removed some of the F-bombs they dropped during this conversation):

When Sam flipped him off, Chad sighed. “You’re exhausted because you’ve been staying here late every night for the past week. Go home, Sam. Go talk to Rosie. Straighten this mess out before you lose her completely. Before she comes and asks me for a transfer because damn it, Sam, that’s going to happen too fricking soon.”

“This from the man who let his wife slip through his fingers because he was too frickin’ busy feeling sorry for himself to pay any attention to her.”

Chad stiffened. When he spoke his voice was quiet, but he couldn’t disguise the bitterness filling it. “Who better to give advice? Yes, I messed up a good thing with Lauren. I was too blinded by everything that happened to see that I was driving her away. That’s why I hate to see you make the same stupid mistake.”

But when I wrote it I hadn’t a clue why he’d been feeling sorry for himself that he’d let his marriage shatter, I just knew he was still hurting and blaming himself for the break-up. Which meant that I also knew that part of his story was going to be about him healing that self-loathing. There’s a lot of Gizmo Guy in Chad—he’s one of those quietly determined guys who knows what he wants and goes after it without a lot of fanfare. (Although I wish Gizmo Guy were as organized as Chad is, I’m glad he’s not when you discover the reason for Chad’s slight OCD tendencies.)

Writing Chad’s story was a challenge because how do you go about restoring a trust that’s been broken so badly your marriage hasn’t just failed but failed spectacularly, and in Chad and Lauren’s case, failed very publicly? If figuring out what made Chad feel sorry for himself was one key, then the mysterious Lauren was the other.
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The Dark Fairy contest continues. Post a comment today for another chance to win!

Watch this. It’s annoying because she’s speaking English but the narrator speaking over her is French, but you don’t really have to know what she’s saying to understand what she’s doing. Don’t you think this would make a terrific scene in a shifter book?

Tell me a story…

The name of the winner of the Queen of the Kitchen spoons is at the bottom of this posting!

Good lord, more storms last night—although it did feel portentous given who fell last night (HE, whose name we shall not speak here). It rained and rained and rained. Lightning cracked in our front yard and the power fluttered off then on. I’m hoping school buses can get through the water…

Like the necklace? It’s not very expensive, but it did catch my eye. It’s beaded, and the pendant is a painted ceramic with a picture of a pretty, dark fairy. If you want a chance to win it, you have to post a comment on my blog. If you want more than one chance to win, come back and post every day over the coming week. The winner will be announced next Tuesday!

To give you something to talk about when you do post today, here’s a question…

Aside from any family, friends, or pets,
what would be the most difficult thing for you to give up in your life?

The winner of the Queen of the Kitchen spoons is…Tammy Ramey! Congratulations, Tammy, and be sure to send me an email with your snail mail address.

The Queen of the Kitchen contest continues (see Tuesday’s post for details)!
The Promo Whore contest ends today. You have a little time to enter before my sister and I get together to choose our winners!

I hope the snippets I’ve fed you were enough to convince you to go buy the book. I’d love for it to be a success. I’m dependent on you to provide me the chance to write more stories for Nocturne.

And y’all know the drill. Please tag it, “like” it—and if you’ve read it—review it as soon as possible! Anything to get the word out to other readers would be appreciated. You have the power! (Why do I feel like a dozen She-ra’s are raising their swords into the air? :))

Here are the buy links:

TWT at Amazon
TWT at eHarlequin
TWT at B&N

April was a not a good month. I fell ill the moment I stepped off the plane in LA where I went to attend the Romantic Times convention early in the month. I still have a lingering cough and suffer fatigue. Then there were the storms. One after another—thunderstorms accompanied by tornado watches and power outages. Three very big and frightening storms.

Send good wishes. I’ll need them!

Remember, the Promo Whore and Queen of the Kitchen contests continue!
See details in Tuesday’s post! Post a comment here to win!
The Promo Whore contest ends tomorrow!

It’s a Nocturne, so you know there has to be some danger, action, and magic! Here’s another little taste. And remember, tomorrow’s the day it releases—pre-order now!

Caleb rode, only part of his attention on the road and his surroundings. His focus was on the wisps of green light ahead of him. A horse. A rider. In the center of the road. Then suddenly, the pair veered off the path, toward the ridge above.

Not bothering to signal Fari, because she was right on his horse’s tail, Caleb reined right, leaned low over his mount’s neck and flew up the slope. Near the top were boulders and a stand of conifers. The ghostly green shadow weaved among the trees, although he appeared to be slowing down, because his outline was sharper, the green color more brilliant.

Caleb held up a fist to warn Fari, and slowed his roan.

The trees were thicker here, the darkness pressing around them. The rider ahead of them dismounted.

Caleb did the same. He listened for the sounds of Fari following, but kept his gaze ahead, peering into the darkness.

So many places to hide. His heart thudded. His breathing deepened as he focused. If the Centaurian knew he was being followed, he might strike out. The only way to keep Fari safe was to meet him first.

Caleb tied his horse to a branch, glanced around for Fari and motioned again for her to stay behind him. Then he took off through the trees.

His footsteps crunched on the pine needles, but there was no point in being quiet. They didn’t have time. If the Centaurian reached his headband, they would fail.

Ahead, he caught sight of another wisp, then a darker, blacker shadow. The figure bent near the base of a tall tree that leaned at a slant, half uprooted.

Caleb stalked closer, careful to muffle his footfalls now.

But the Centaurian stiffened, glancing over his shoulder.

Before he could reach the belt glinting beside him, Caleb leaped, taking the alien to the ground.

Immediately, Caleb knew he was in trouble. His opponent was preternaturally powerful, and without the impediment of a weakened shoulder.

Caleb plunged his fist into the alien’s side while wrapping his injured arm around the Centaurian’s body to hold him. “Fari,” he gasped. “Get the belt and jump!”

“Got it!”

The Centaur roared, slammed his fist into Caleb’s shoulder and leaped off him to run after Fari.

Caleb saw stars for a moment, then shook his head and lunged to his feet.

He heard hoofbeats in the distance, knew Fari had gotten to her horse to lead the Centaurian away from him. “Dammit, this is no time to be a hero, woman!”

Caleb ran for his own mount and swung up, then kicked it into a gallop, following the traces of the two figures ahead of him. They were weaving through the trees toward a clearing that dropped away sharply to the sea.

In the moonlight now, he watched Fari zigzag left and right, then pull hard on her reins to head toward the cliff. The Centaurian was gaining on her.

Suddenly, the ground in front of both riders fell away, the cliff wall crumbling.

Caleb knew it was a flare. But so did the Centaurian. However, both horses balked, shying to the side, backs arching, bucking in revolt.

Fari held tight to her mount’s reins, her expression focused as she threw another flare.

Caleb’s heart stopped for a beat as he saw a huge, golden gryphon diving toward the Centaurian’s horse, wings extended and flapping. It dipped toward the animal, claws outstretched, then pulled up sharply, only to dive again.

The Centaurian’s horse bucked harder, twisting and jouncing the rider on its back. The alien roared again, his head thrown back in rage.

Remember, the Promo Whore and Queen of the Kitchen contests continue!
See details in Tuesday’s post!

So I know that no one’s gonna be checking out this blog today—not with all the hoopla going on the TV. I taped THE WEDDING to watch when I go to bed tonight. So don’t tell me what I missed!

In The Warrior’s Touch, both the hero and heroine have specialized psychic powers. Here’s a little taste.

She blew out a breath. “Dinner’s over. Most everyone’s settling in for the night. We might take a look around.”

“And if we’re caught?”

“I’ll think of something.”

“Do you know where the queen’s chambers are?”

Fari nodded in crisp assent. “She’s above stairs. Only those closest to her are allowed up there.”

“Heavily guarded?”

“Hippolyta has guards inside her chamber with her and Theseus. She may be besotted with the man, but she doesn’t trust him.”

“That’s where you think the belt is?”

Fari nodded again. “It’s that or the temple, but she doesn’t seem like the kind to hand power over to anyone. She’d want to keep it close.”

“Did you hear any mention of it at dinner?”

“No, and I didn’t ask. First night here and I didn’t want anyone suspecting I was after anything other than to serve my queen.”

Caleb leaned back on his hands and studied Fari’s expression. “You’re enjoying this.”
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