Back from Vacay, ready for a New Year

After an unbelievably relaxing holiday with my family, I'm back.  I'm back with a vengeance I have not felt since leaving Seattle behind.  I still miss the city every day, the sadness in the rain and the beauty of the rare glimpse of Mt. Rainier on my way to work.  I miss the solitude of a city full of people on every street and the way I could walk Pike Place Market tracing my fingers over flower petals and select the freshest produce for my dinner.  I miss the smell and the feeling of being home that I have only felt one other place on this earth.  As I write this I am struck with the pain of longing for Seattle that will never leave me.  But that does not matter because I will go back and it will still be there.  I will be different but I know that it will still be home.

That is not what this post is about, that is but a stepping stone to my main idea.  I am back.  With a vengeance.  I slipped away again, just for a bit, because let's face it, sometimes life kicks you so hard it takes a little longer to get back up.  But I am.  I'm ready.  I'm ready to write again.  And for the first time in a long time I see a way back to the words that would not come for so long.  I found ways to replicate the sadness I once found in the rain of downtown Seattle.  I found ways to awaken that piece of me that connected to Seattle and drove the writer inside me.  I didn't think it was possible to find that here, in the midst of some of the flattest most boring landscapes I've ever seen.  Some people find beauty in the rolling lands of the Midwest but I am not one of them.  Give me mountains, give me ocean but give me something that screams power.  Since I cannot have either, I found ways to make my own, to invoke those same feelings without the perfect muses.  It just took a really, really, REALLY long time and more effort than I ever imagined.  But I did it.  I uncorked my inner writer once more and I hope that what comes out of her from here on out is back up to standard.  Not that I'm disappointed in my Emerald Seer Series, or the Immortal Machinations series for that matter, I'm perfectly happy with both and I have learned so much from them and from the amazing people I have met because of them.  I lost my way though and things that should have happened just didn't.  I can fix that.  I can't change the time frame but I can make it right.  I am working on the box set for the Emerald Seer Series with some added content and some alterations.  It will take a bit of time but I want to do right by Storm.

Immortal Machinations?  Well, I think it will be fantastic when it is finished.  It's more than Steampunk, it's so much more that it's become a trilogy full of non-sparkly Vampires and Sirens and Immortals.  It considers morality and how far science should go, how much of scientific advancement should be controlled and by whom, it considers - well, I won't say  more.  As River Song says, "spoilers."

Happy New Year to one and all, I hope it brings magic and a satisfying end to The Hobbit trilogy!

COVER REVEAL - Emerald Seer IV - END OF THE NIGHT

It began with tragedy.

Continued with rebirth.

Intensified with an uncovered past.

How will it all end?

The wait is almost over!  

Storm Sullivan's epic journey comes to an end tomorrow with the release of 

END OF THE NIGHT

I am thrilled to reveal the stunning new cover created by the brilliant and fabulously talented, 

Tammie Clarke Gibbs.

And, a teaser excerpt.....

Storm

Beep, Beep, Beep.

Storm groaned and rolled over, right into PacMan’s back.  “PacMan, you bad boy.”  She halfheartedly mumbled the reprimand and attempted to push his body to no avail.  “Fine.  Be that way.”  Slapping the snooze button to silence the alarm, Storm draped an arm over her dog and snuggled into the short soft fur, relishing the gentle rise and fall of his chest. 

Beep, Beep, Beep.

PacMan snorted and licked Storm’s face.  “Alright,alright, I’m getting up.  I don’t know why you’re so put out, you get to lay around in bed all day.”  Pushing off the bed, Storm reached down and flipped the alarm to off before breaking into a yawning stretch that was highlighted with a serious of soft cracks and pops as her spine realigned.   For a second, Storm swore she heard a baby crying and paused at its closeness.  She mentally chastised herself and shrugged.  Must be the neighbors.  The apartment walls were paper thin after all. 

Stepping into the shower, Storm stood for several minutes under the steaming hot water, washing away the grime from the day before and the vague discomfort following the vision she’d had.  The vision.  It was an ugly one and somewhat painful if truth be told.  She’d made the call to the precinct from her disposable cell and hoped they been able to nab the sicko in time.  Part of her wanted to call Dan and Shane to ask about it but then they would wonder how she knew.  Every time Storm had the same internal argument but ultimately did the right thing and waited for the news story.  She rinsed off and stepped out, wrapping herself in a worn bath towel.  PacMan sat in the doorway of the bathroom staring at her in his usual concerned way.  Storm called him a worry wart because he always appeared to be frowning in concern. 

“I think I talk to you too much, boy.”  Storm turned from her dog and wiped off the mirror.  A man’s face looked back at her.  She blinked, rubbed her eyes and wiped at the mirror again but only saw her own reflection.  “Yes, definitely.  I am losing it.”  Storm grumbled to herself and went about methodically combing the tangles from her hair before neatly plaiting it.  With the towel secured tightly around her body she slipped back into the bedroom and flipped the television on to the morning news.  Sifting through her wardrobe, Storm half listened to the weather and traffic.  By the time the main anchor re-took the screen she’d slipped into a pair of black pin-striped pants and her least ratty white lace camisole.  The story Storm had been waiting for came on just as she was slipping into her emerald green satin blouse.  

Sample Saturday - a bit of END OF THE NIGHT

It's coming - VERY soon actually.  May 1st the Emerald Seer Series comes to an end with END OF THE NIGHT.  I hope you all are ready....but until then, here's just a sneak peek!

“You seem vexed.” 

Angeline whirled to find Jordan hiding in the shadows of the hall.  “What are you doing out here?”

“Tell me you were not the least bit annoyed by the Seraph’s repeated rambling?”  Jordan stepped into the light.  “Don’t answer that, I heard you.  Temper, temper.”

“So I guess you know how fun I can be when I’m annoyed then.”  Angeline retorted with as much ferocity as she could muster given the close proximity of the shifter.

“I suspect you are quite enjoyable when irritated.”  Jordan stepped closer so that they nearly touched.  “But then I think you are quite enjoyable all of the time.”

Angeline stepped back but Jordan moved forward.  “Stop that.”

“What?  Do I make you uncomfortable, fairy?” Jordan smirked, the cocky, smug look that he so often wore.

“You were not so bold in front of Damarra.”  Angeline enjoyed the flicker of fear that broke across Jordan’s face for a moment.

“Not many are bold in front of ancient Goddesses, including you.”  Jordan sized her up, staring deep into her eyes.  She felt his hand slide around her waist but couldn’t manage to move away.  He pulled her closer and she let him.  “I can be bold in front of you, Angeline.  I can make you feel things, give you the life you’ve denied yourself for so long.”

“I have obligations.”  Angeline breathed the words with so little conviction she didn’t believe them herself.

“This war will end, the Emerald will prevail, choose me now and we will move on together.”  Jordan leaned in, his lips nearly on hers when a throat cleared behind him.

“Sorry to interrupt, but you are sort of blocking the entrance to the kitchen.” 

Sunday Sneak Peek

A small bit from RYDER ON THE STORM....

Her bedroom looked exactly as she’d left it.  The heavy violet velvet curtains were parted and hung over wrought iron tie backs.  Sheers of various shades of purple still draped the matching wrought iron bed, the lilac satin bedspread half turned down to reveal silky silver sheets.  Yes, she had been in a romantic Goth phase before she’d left.  The walls were still plastered with her favorite posters, a shirtless Jim Morrison, Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, several John Hughes movie posters, and a tour poster for Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.   Her bookshelf still overflowed with Stephen King, Jane Austen, and Tolkien.  A well-worn copy of Catcher in the Rye lay half open on her nightstand.