Virtual Ebook Fair!

It's that time again! I'm participating in the Virtual Ebook Fair (check out the website here). That means you all benefit from sneak peeks into LOTS of different books to find the perfect next read for you!

I'm doing a two for one today, a bit of RYDER ON THE STORM, and if you read on, a preview of IMMORTAL MACHINATIONS my upcoming release.

RYDER ON THE STORM

Storm sighed and brushed the memory away.  Looking around, she realized everyone had left.  Storm was the last one standing – in more ways than one.   Aunt Trin was gone.  Aunt Trin who taught Storm about the visions, how to track and interpret them, and most importantly how to recover from the pain of one.  Aunt Trin who’d taught her the craft and raised Storm after her mother gave up on life.  Aunt Trin who was being lowered into the ground, the grinding of gears echoing through the graveyard.  The stargazer lilies on the top of her coffin were wilting in the heat.  Sweat dripped off Storm’s brow.  She wondered briefly if the sheen gave the appearance of tears.  Trin would have liked that.  The tears simply would not come, they never had.  Most people thought her heartless.  She didn’t understand it, couldn’t change it, wasn’t even sure if she wanted to.  Aunt Trin had told her time and again that there was a reason for her emotional paralysis.  Storm just wished she could summon a few tears for the only person she’d ever cared about.

Two caretakers emerged from a truck with shovels and began filling the grave; burly men with sweat stains under their arms that spread in all directions across the gray polyblend jumpsuits.  The larger man even had sweat lines down his back.  Storm refrained from sneering as she approached them, her heels sinking into the soft soil with each step.

“Could I have another moment, please?”  She loosed the belt of her jacket revealing the navy sheath dress beneath.  As expected the caretakers’ eyes bulged slightly at her defined curves and nodded in that stunned manner Storm had become accustomed to long ago.  Once they were out of sight, she knelt beside the grave and took a handful of dirt from the pile.  With the other hand Storm reached into the pocket of her jacket and withdrew a vial.  She cast them both into the grave, stood up, brushed herself off, and nodded toward the caretakers to proceed.  Storm felt their eyes on her as she walked away and pulled her jacket tightly around her, in spite of the sweltering heat. 

In the driver’s seat of her VW Beetle, Storm exhaled.  It was done.  Everything she’d been asked to do.  She was free.  Sort of.  The visions would still plague her.  Unless she could break the curse.  Storm started her car and flicked the radio on, this one’s for you Aunt Trin, as Jim Morrison blew through the speakers with her namesake song.

And, from the upcoming Steampunk release IMMORTAL MACHINATIONS

Prologue

The music continued.  The maddening thrum, a cacophony of sounds striking images and thoughts in a melody only Dorian could see and hear.  Nobody could see the world as he did. Nobody could hear the way it rolled and clicked. Nobody knew the mechanical nature of all things. Dorian did.  He saw it all and he knew how to improve upon it. Blasphemy though it may be, Dorian could improve upon the world around him, could create machines and medicines. If only he knew how it would be his undoing. If only Dorian could have seen what his very existence would come to mean in the War. He may have let the villagers hang him after all.

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.  

Sneakpeek Saturday - extended excerpt

From RYDER ON THE STORM ~ EMERALD SEER I.....

The ride to Willow Wood had not changed in the ten years since she last walked out the white-washed front door.  Of course it passed to her as the last surviving Sullivan.  It still didn’t seem real, still didn’t make sense.  She’d gotten a strange letter from her aunt, wouldn’t have recognized it as Aunt Trin’s if not for the handwriting.  Storm had turned it over in her hands, the plain notecard with gilded edging.  It triggered a vision of the murder.  When Dan and Shane knocked on her door, Storm sat waiting in the kitchen with a pot of coffee on.  She didn’t cry. 

At least she wasn’t considered a suspect.  Apparently the crime scene seemed too gruesome for a woman and they labeled it a gang-related attack, some sort of initiation. She didn’t bother to argue.  It didn’t matter who did it.  It didn’t change the end result. 

At some point a social worker showed up at her door, some sort of grief counselor dressed in shabby clothes, her plain face obscured by large framed glasses.  The social worker handed her a card for a crisis line and offered to listen if Storm wanted to talk.

She never called the crisis line either.  Sullivan women were prepared for the loss of their own, it came with the territory.  They had been dwindling for generations, a powerful line of mystics nearly eradicated by generations of mysterious deaths.  Storm knew the stories well.  Aunt Trin had been overly cautious with their security and not just the technological kind.   Her aunt’s murder had been unlike the others though, far more brutal, no mystery to the humans.  Storm knew better, she saw knives in the dark and strange runes marking the walls of the vast room.  Aunt Trin should have known better than to put herself in such a situation, there had to be more to it.  

Pulling into the drive she sighed heavily.  Pac Man snorted in the passenger seat.  “I know buddy, I know.  You will like it here though, lots of room to run.”  Storm left the car idling while she opened the gate.  The wrought iron bars were sealed with thick rusted chains and a large padlock.  She fished the key out of her pocket.  It felt heavy in her hand.   The key had been delivered by the attorney with all of the paperwork including a small, handwritten note on a piece of parchment – Accept your destiny, you offer hope to many.

She would never accept it.  Storm Sullivan may be returning home to Willow Wood but she had no intentions of going down that path – ever.  She’d formulated a two part plan, solve the murder and sell the place.  With money like that Storm could travel for the rest of her life, never having to stop long enough to risk exposure, and hopefully avoid the Sullivan fate.

Ryder on the Storm Sneakpeek & Freebie Promo Info

This week is REALLY special because tomorrow marks the beginning of my Ryder on the Storm promotion!  For just five days - yes FIVE days - RYDER ON THE STORM will be free on Amazon!  Take advantage of this deal now!

For now, enjoy this snippet (a bit longer than usual):

Ryder closed the musty tome and placed it upon the cherry table beside him.   The fire glowed against the ancient hearth of Durstine Manor’s vast library, his favorite room for more reasons than one.  A complex pattern of stone and grout, the fireplace ran floor to ceiling and covered more than half of the wall.  Opposite the fireplace stood ornately carved double-doors with heavy wrought iron handles and matching hinges.  He’d had them shipped over in pieces from Scotland, along with the sconces that lined each hall of the manor.  Aside from the doors and the hearth, the library walls were floor to ceiling shelves overflowing with tomes from every age of man.  Ryder had read them all, retained most of the information, and continued to seek more.  Unlike the majority of his brethren, Ryder understood that knowledge was the true power and any who could wield it would prosper.  As a result, he’d managed to do quite well for himself over the years.

Ryder tilted his head, footsteps echoed in the hallway, heels judging by the click.  They came to a stop just outside his door.  Reaching into his pocket, Ryder withdrew a small strip of leather and tied his shoulder-length, raven hair in a low ponytail.  He stood and straightened his light V-neck shirt, adjusted his belt and slipped his notebook beneath the book he’d been reading.

“Come in, Angeline.”

The heavy oak door slid open slowly followed by the polished assistant he had been forced to hire to replace Keene.  He refused to think about that now.  Besides, Ryder found Angeline to be adequate, and certainly easy on the eyes.  Her hair always upswept in a chignon, held in place with gold-plated chopsticks.  She most frequently wore a black skirt suit with satin or silk blouses of various colors.  Tonight however, she had selected a kimono dress, brilliant blue with embroidered dragons whose heads met at the most opportune place. 

“It is done, my liege.”  Angeline approached and handed him a blood red card the size of an invitation.  A smile played across her mouth.  “The Hunters seek Keene as we speak and the girl is being followed.  She has shown no signs of supernatural skill.”

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.

Sneakpeek Sunday

This is another small snippet from Ryder on the Storm ~ Emerald Seer I....



Storm looked at her mother, mascara dripping down her cheeks like a sad circus clown, wild desperation and sadness warring behind her eyes. Aunt Trin had spoken up at just the right moment, “Sophie, luv, it will be fine. You knew it was a better chance than not that our Storm would receive the Sight as well. She is taking it better than you. Why don’t you go put on some tea and I will figure out what she saw?” Mother had nodded obligingly before disappearing into the kitchen. Aunt Trin had turned to her, those lovely emerald eyes flashing with excitement, “She did not take that well did she, luv?”

Storm suppressed an eye roll and forced herself to shake her head instead. As always with her aunt, the words flowed easily. Without emotion she relayed what had played out in the vision and Aunt Trin listened in earnest. She reclined back against the arm of the sofa and folded her hands together, the enormous jeweled rings clicking like castanets. Aunt Trin and her mother looked so much alike, from their creamy, clear complexions to their wide emerald eyes, but Storm marveled at how opposite their personalities ended up. Storm sighed as her mother sobbed loudly in the kitchen - very loudly since the dining room and a hallway stood between them.

Sneakpeak Sunday

Just a tidbit from Ryder on the Storm - Emerald Seer I....

“On second thought, I am not feeling too hot.  Maybe you boys could get me home?”  Storm feigned balance problems and put her arm around Dan’s waist, leaning into his warmth.  That did the trick; she felt his breath catch for a moment and then his arm around her in return.  They followed Shane as he weaved his way through people and random tables toward the door.  Storm didn’t see who Shane nearly collided with but she heard the apologies.  Her body reacted to the stranger’s voice, a blend of silk and iron, coaxing and offending at the same time.  She went rigid, that voice seemed familiar somehow. 

First interview as an author

Stop in an check it out....while you are there, see what Tears of Crimson has to offer!!

Many thanks to my dear friends at Tears of Crimson for their hospitality and the amazing opportunity!

I was interviewed by Tears of Crimson!!