Deadwood Diner – part 4

diner pic

 

Copyright © 2015 Karli Rush

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Please note this short story is a small link in a chain, so to speak. A sequel to another short story titled – The House.

Mary Jane – part 4 

I adjust my cap back on my head and feel that eerie prickly sensation as soon as I step out into the night. Thunder shakes the ground like a Cobra Gunship. I harness my nerves and scout around for Mary Jane through the pitch-dark parking lot. I wait a beat, hoping for that millisecond bolt of lightning to briefly brighten my view. But I’m shit out of luck.

My feet trudge through the pouring down rain and my eyes roam the area. “Mary Jane!” I holler out while passing by a white 1970 Cadillac, it’s the only thing that shows any prominent color. I carry myself on over to the next vehicle and catch a glimpse of her scampering between two more cars. Her drenched form is hunched over and staggering to stand upright in the hammering steel cold rain. “Mary Jane!”

I chase after her, listening to her muffled down whimpers and cries. She’s terrified and I can’t seem to get close enough to her. The punishing rain blinds most of my sight, it doesn’t matter how much I shield my hands over my cap to help, it’s relentless. Thunder slams against the woeful dark sky making my body shake. I grasp a blotchy tall figure lurking behind a truck and I follow it, the shape is too misshapen to really tell if it’s Mary Jane. My gut twists and buckles with uncertainty, but I have to make sure she’s okay.

I slosh my rain slicked boots through a crater-like puddle and terminate my next step. Rain falls thickly along the passenger’s side window of a late-model red pickup, it looks no different from any of the other cars I’d just passed. Apart from the fact that an orange hazy glow pulsates inside, pulsating with a beat. In precise time and cadence to a song by Simon and Garfunkel, “Sail on silver girl… sail on by… your time has come… to shine…” I jerk my head to the right of me, searching for the cause. No one’s inside, the engine from the weather-beaten clunker doesn’t rattle with life, but the old-fashioned chrome radio recites the song from my past.

I slow my movements and strengthen my grip on my duffel bag. My heart pounds like someone called in an air strike, the hairs on the back of my neck stands on end and I breathe in the icy air. I let out a warm humid breath from within me and it reminds me of winter, the dead of winter. My body involuntarily shudders like I’m standing in my skivvies, aggravated and unnerved I sling my soaked cap off and swipe the rain away. Stubbornly I set my cap back on and glare over the truck. “Mary Jane… is that you?

The radio keeps warbling out but when it hits the last track from the song, it carries that unreal static noise that can only come from a record player back in the day. Each time the static is louder, more hair-raising and then the song begins to play…again. I flicker my glances back and forth tensely. I’m lost at what could be the source, how could anyone around here know that song from my childhood? The disheartening thunder drums the shade of the scenery, bleak and wrong. Regardless, I stick with my mission and force my feet to move.

I dog the footsteps of every shadow, every movement, and unnatural sound. The faded cracked pavement becomes nothing but a river of rain, and eventually I find myself on the opposite side of the diner. I cup my hand around my wet soaked mouth, and call out her name. The muttering and detached cries stop and turn into breathless words, stammering and wandering words that I can’t grasp. Words that sound like a thousand voices, crawling over each other, trying to be heard in the deranged storm.

Distant lights fray out along the slickened dark highway and I see her, the small angular shape of her. Cradling her body, with her head swaying low. It takes a breath for me to unfold the grappling iron lodged inside my throat. My boots race soundlessly across the stretch between her and I until I’m standing on the skirt of the highway. The rain showers us both as I ask, “Mary Jane?”

I raise my left hand outward, prayin’ she’ll accept it. Her long dripping wet hair screens her face and I can’t make heads or tails if she even knows where she’s standing. “…It’s not safe here, just take my hand, Mary Jane…take my hand,” I plead, but the only reaction I get is her gripping her arms closer to herself withdrawing from me. I glance up and along the unnerving long road is a curve guarded by trees.

And through the timber I see a beam of headlights quivering between them.

I drown my reserve and stride out to her, meeting her stance I grip her haggard, threadbare arms and command her to look at me. Her down-casted green grieving eyes drag upward, fear infiltrates every ounce of her blanched face. Tangled unavailing words drop from her stark lips so fast that it takes me a moment to catch her trembling chin and ask, “I… I don’t understand—”

“I’m afraid…I’m so afraid…”

I release her chin and wrap my arm around her and try to shield her from whatever she fears. I lower my head and mouth against her damp hair, “It’s okay, I’m not going to let anything harm you.” I brace myself closer, hoping she’ll have enough faith in me to get her off the highway, to get both of us to safety. “It’s too dangerous to be out here, in this rain and in the middle of the…

“But it’s too late… ”

A loud screeching sound erupts through the darkened night and all I can see a blinding light.

To be continued…

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Deadwood Diner – part 2

Copyright © 2015 Karli Rush diner snippet

Mary Jane

The young woman is as thin as a rake, but holds an unfading beauty to her. Her shadowed eyes skate nervously around the sudden quiet diner, her hair streaked with proof she’d seen her days of the summer sun pelt throughout. Half sticking straight up, the other half tangled in hellish twisted knots. Skittishly, she tiptoes up to the empty barstool on the right side of me. Ray, on my left, mumbles something under his breath but his mutters go mute.

The woman clings her skeletal-like hands against the metal edge of counter and whispers, “It’s out there…” Her hushed words are so voiceless that I’m not even sure I heard her, but as I bite into my burger, leaning farther forward I hear her say it again. “It’s out there…”

I sway a look over my shoulder, wondering what’s got her so spooked. The diner’s speckled with fewer customers, only a handful sit in booths near the glass door. The darkness outside creeps up starving off most of the light that once shined from the aging street lights. The highway wasn’t much to see unless a Greyhound or a truck shined their daring headlights along the shrouded lifeless road. But I can’t pin point what has her clutching the molding of the counter so desperately. I jump my eyes back over to her and see terror bathed deeply inside the green-eyed girl. It takes me a second to swallow down the bite of my cheeseburger I had just taken, simply because I had never seen someone so damn attractive, yet so damn terror-stricken at the same time.

Her unkempt loose-fitting clothes are not enough protection from the bite of the chilling late night breeze outside. She keeps her head tilted slightly downward so that I can’t see the complete view of her pale face. Her frightened eyes shift anxiously through her disheveled hair, and I try not to stare. She uses the counter as her anchor as she eases herself timidly on the barstool. The nostalgic waitress never delivers herself over to the young woman, never even gives her a welcoming comment like – ‘Be right with you, sugar’. Instead, she wanders off to the opposite side of the diner as if to give a pronounced space between them.

“Don’t listen to nothin’ she says,” Ray rumbles in a low grouchy tone. I catch his subtle head gesture toward the girl. She looks lost and afraid like a doe standin’ smack dab in middle of a hectic highway. A light sound of silverware clanks against a plate and she practically jumps ten feet out of her seat. She curls her skinny body forward and chews on her short frail fingernails feverishly.

I narrow my brown-eyed glare over to Ray and ask with the same low restrained tone, “Is she from around here?”

He grunts and blows out a cynical snort through his nose as he leans on the counter. Keeping his head, his unreadable whiskered expression forward, he replies, “She’s crazier than shithouse rat and it’s best you’d stay far, far away from her.”

I’m not sure what to make of what he just said, so, I steal another curious glance her way. There’s no way someone like her could be ‘crazy’ maybe she lacked good common sense and a decent pair of clothes but then I drop my gaze down to her feet and realize they’re bare and covered in mud. I stop my mind from overrunning with assumptions and judgment but Ray bounces his meaty elbow against mine and mumbles, “She’s gotta a few screws loose up in the head, they had her admitted to Reidhaven when she was young.”

I whisper back quietly and tactfully as I possibly can, “Reidhaven?”

His bushy camouflaged eyes dart my way incredulously. “You know, the hospital they kept sick people in, but…” he shrugs his broad overalled shoulders and says, “…they closed it down. Said they’d run out of funding or something to that effect. I just think it’s a damn shame really, but whatever you do… don’t let her get to ya.”

I’d only eaten three-quarters of my food when I finally had to stop and wipe off my mouth and force myself not to look over to her as she sputters, “They’re everywherein-in the darkwa-waiting…” She cradles her shivering bony hands like a child that’s been hiding from the boogie man all night. Has she been living in this fearful state all her life? The question floats to my mouth, wanting to ask, wanting to interrogate Ray how could some so young lookin’ as her, someone so uncommonly pretty be so distraught?

“I know what you’re thinkin’, Sgt. Knight,” Ray announces as he cranes his head closer to me. Still keeping his voice as low as possible he swallows slowly and informs me. “She hears voices, they say she never could tell which ones were real. So, nothin’ coming out of her makes sense.”

I mentally chew around on his words for a moment, nodding lightly to him so that he knows I hear him. The outdated waitress eventually saunters around and angles a flashy red nail toward my barely touched coffee. “You wanna have me reheat that up for you, honey?”

I idly scratch the side of my jaw and start to answer ‘no’ to her when the woman beside me says, “He wants it heated… it’s cold, isn’t it cold?” My weary eyes connect with her sober green and for the life of me if it wasn’t for her strange, out of the ordinary appearance, I’d never claim her crazy. Her voice as she spoke was clear and concise. And just as soft and polite as anyone else here in the diner.

“Yeah, it is kinda cold,” I evenly reply never taking my eyes away and the waitress quietly hustles herself back to the kitchen, coffee cup in hand. I study her features now that I can, and I find that she bares no trace of someone once locked inside a psychiatric hospital. But something, whatever it is has it’s claws sunk so deep inside her that I can plainly see she’s truly afraid. She tucks her bottom lip beneath her teeth, nervously she looks over me, searching my own features, tryin’ to decipher whether or not I’m someone trustworthy.

“I’m Jason Knight…” I mention and point at my last name stitched across my Army jacket.

To be continued…

Another tale from the Deadwood town…

Mary Jane part two of the house pic

Copyright © 2015 Karli Rush

If you haven’t had the chance to read The House  then, here’s your chance… book 1 is free this weekend only!  Amazon link

Deadwood Diner –  part 1 

Words have no power to impress the mind

Without the exquisite horror of their reality.

 

– Edgar Allen Poe

I step off the Greyhound bus and the moment my black military issued boots hit the ground, I breathe in the late autumn air. I roll my stiff shoulders back and rub out the cramped soreness from my aching neck. After fifteen months in Iraq, it’s hard to believe I’m just an hour and a half away from home. My whole career has been dedicated to one ambitious goal of SFC. Within ten years of hard ballbusting work, I’m there. Being deployed more times than I can even count and now, it’s time to relax.

Joining the Army was something I’d set my ever-lovin’ sights on since I was a boy. My grandfather and my father were both die-hard U.S. Army soldiers, and they both strictly ingrained in me ‘Be All You Can Be’ from day one. Living in a town like Waynesville, there’s really not a whole lot of options for anyone. The nearest college is here in Deadwood. Random managed gas stations and remodeled churches sprout up more or less on every block. I never saw myself growin’ up to be someone wiping windshields and pumping gas as a lifelong career and I certainly never thought I’d walk a saintly path to wear the fine untarnished shoes of a preacher. At one point in my high school years I had thought long and hard about going to college here, like so many others. However, to serve my country was deep-seated in my soul well before I could even utter the words ‘Affirmative’.

I swing my Army green duffel bag over my right shoulder and take in the old timey diner. A few cars are scattered here and there along the dimly lit parking lot. A bright, neon green sign hangs bravely and boldly outside, –Open— , inviting anyone and everyone inside. I’m expecting a buddy of mine to meet me here tonight. I’ll hitch a ride with him to Waynesville. Funny how some hometowns can give you the comforts of family, friends and familiarity. In this particular small town though, there is no familiarity. It’s always felt like that song by the Eagles, ‘You can check out any time you like—but, you can never leave…’ As my eyes graze over the red faded pickup and the unfamiliar cars, I realize my buddy is not here. Not yet, anyway.

Traveling down here sitting at back of the bus, I watched and took note of the population stats of each of the town signs that we would pass by. This town, Deadwood, doesn’t have the population status listed on their sign. Odd. I glance around and straighten the cap on my head debating my next move. I sure could use a bite to eat, maybe, just maybe, the food here doesn’t taste anything like Army grub. I find myself striding quickly toward the diner. My stomach is grumbling, knowing soon it’s fixin to sample some good ol’ home-cooking. A homey, robust smell of deep-fried foods and handmade pies wafts about as I near the doors. Above the brilliant, neon green sign the name of the diner flickers eerily. The words Ma and Pa’s looks burnt out and shadowed by the rustic, metal overhang. It’s almost like someone wanted to hide it.

An elderly man carrying a red and white checkered take-out bag hums near me. He throws a wordless nod my way and I return the gesture. His demeanor has me at ease with the place. He’s light on his feet and grinning like he’s carrying the next winning lottery ticket. I almost want to tell the waitress ‘I’ll have whatever he’s having’ and motion toward him. I take a seat at a vintage styled barstool.

“What will it be, sugar?” the waitress asks shoving a pair of black horned rimmed glasses along the bridge of her narrow nose. She matches the theme of the diner with her pinned up hairdo and old-school bold red lips.

“I’ll take a cup of coffee, ma’am,” I reply receiving the one page menu from her.

“Comin’ right up,” she spouts with a flirty smile and spins off in the other direction. The rise of lively chatter hovers in the midst of the late-night patrons, it isn’t bothersome, a laugh or a turn from a newspaper now and again. The sun has been down for hours now, and I get the feeling that most of these people in here are regulars. A weighty middle-aged man sits at the far end of the counter his judging eyes meet mine, he shifts his view to his plate like I would walk over and abduct his nightly addiction. I drift my own eyes easily away when I hear the jukebox on the other side start to play.

“You like Creedence Clearwater Revival?” a man, in a pair of dingy overalls sitting beside me asks. He scratches at the graying whiskers camouflaging his thin mouth, the fork drops from his hand as he pushes his empty plate away.

“I’ve heard a few of their songs,” I reply mildly, withholding my own childhood memories for my dad’s love of CCR. Listening to their songs repetitively one learns a few songs by heart naturally. There was one song that he listened to that I knew to leave him alone about and that was ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ by Simon and Garfunkel. I never knew  what stirred the multitude of emotions in him whenever that particular song played because he wasn’t the type of man to show emotions. Drifting off to the memory of a crinkly wallpapered dining room, I see a bottle of booze sitting on the table as the vinyl seventy-eight record spins on the turntable. Being so young at the time, I had no grasp on what the lyrics meant. Nor did I grasp why he listened to it as much as he did or what the meaning behind the song had held for him. I snap out of my past memories and glance over to the guy in the overalls as he taps on the counter with his calloused large hands.

“This song here…” He thumbs toward the old jukebox and says, “…was her song, my wife’s name was Mary Lou. She could cook the best daggum pecan pies, I swear!” He slaps the palm of his hand down and grins the biggest grin.

“It’s a good one,” I respond, watching amused with the look on his aging face. His bushy eyebrows scrunch together as his grin gets even bigger. He reminds me of the actor John Goodman, just older. And I catch the reference in tenses when he spoke of his wife. I don’t ask, it’s none of my business but it tells me why he’s here, eating at a late night diner, alone.

“So… what’s the special?” I ask pointing at the substandard budget menu. The perky waitress flips the coffee cup around and sits it upright on the tiny saucer and begins to pour my coffee.

“All of it’s good,” the man in overalls sitting next to me offers. He quirks his head to the side and adds, “Maybe not my Mary Lou’s but it’s worth its while.”

“All right then, I’ll have the cheeseburger, fries and a glass of ice water too.”

“You want the fixin’s?” the waitress quizzes while she jots down my order.

“Yeah.”

“You better save some room for our house special, Lemon Meringue pie, ya hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I hand her the tissue thin menu back and pick up my coffee cup. Testing it before I take a sip. It’s not scalding hot, but it’s damn sure strong. I cough a little, tryin’ to soothe the harsh stale taste down. I edge the coffee back to its saucer as she struts toward the kitchen area hollering out my order.“Walk a cow through the garden, on a rail, and one on the city.” She clamps her ticket on the order wheel and winks back at me. And then she busies herself setting up another table across from us on the side of the counter.

“So, you home on leave or somethin’?” the man asks and drags his fingers around the wiry whiskers along his beardy mouth. He pulls his large sizeable hand out from underneath his other stout arm and extends it toward me. “Name’s Raymond Thomson, but everyone around here calls me, Ray.”

I grip his hand firmly with my right hand and find myself surprised when I realize his grip isn’t like steel. It’s a considerate handshake, not tryin’ to prove anything.

“Nice to meet you, Ray. I’m Jason Knight,” I give him a small salute and add, “I guess you could say I’m between duty stations right now.”

A noticeable twinkle in his mousy eyes shimmer like a new dawn’s day as he says, “How long you been in the Army?”

“I joined as soon as I graduated high school, so… just a little over ten years. You know what they say, stick with what you love doing.”I explain as the gum-smackin’ waitress plops my plate of food  in front of me.

“You needing anything else, sugar?”

I scratch the side of my temple and glance over the palatable food and shake my head. “No, ma’am, I think that’s it.” I peer up and inadvertently meet her eyes. They’re soft, but kinda drained like she’s had a few hard years of workin’ over-time. With her out-of-date specs it conceals somewhat the heavy lines underneath her whiskey colored eyes. Matter of fact, no one in this diner looks inexperienced in life by any means.

“You have family here or close by?” Ray wrangles out as he fumbles with some change in the center of his oversize palm.

“I do, some cousins and an aunt up in Waynesville. I grew up there, so, it’s still home to me,” I remark adding a shake of salt to the home fries and dump a hefty glob of Heinz ketchup on them.

He slides a dull simple quarter across the space between us and nods toward the silent jukebox.“On me, it’s my small way of sayin’ thanks for you putting your life out there for the sake of our beautiful country.” He pats my upper arm like a gentle giant and the second I move my perplexed gaze from the coin, he shoves it inside my hand. Urging me to accept his offer. I hop off the barstool without a fuss and leave my plate, my stomach complaining with each boot pounding step. I reach the marbelized plastic jukebox and stand, reading the list of songs. I stare back over my shoulder strangely, he wasn’t kidding about likin’ CCR because there wasn’t one song listed that wasn’t sung by Creedence. I shrug and slip the quarter in and press the button for ‘Bad Moon Rising’.

I’m not sure why I picked it, I liked it well enough, and it was listed at the top. I guess I just wanted to appease the man so I could hurry the hell up and eat. He taps his brown clad foot in time with the beat and grins approvingly. The song only lasts for a couple of minutes and then two more songs roll out, two that I didn’t pick. ‘Run through the Jungle’ belts out right after ‘Hello Mary Lou’, I keep my eyes downward and focus on my burger.

“I bet you’ve seen your fair share of…” Ray starts to grumble out but his prying words drop away as soon as a young woman stumbles inside the diner.

To be continued…

Happy Halloween!


Trick or Treat

 

 

Well I certainly hope it will be a treat…

 

As I have promised – Ice Bound the fifth and final installment for the Crescent Bound series is now live on Amazon!

ice bound book cover

Buy link

 

Marcus Colten is living the perfect life, high school football star and dating the head cheerleader. He is popular, skilled in athletics and from a wealthy family. The football team he quarterbacks for just won their first district championship.

Marc doesn’t show it, but he is being haunted. Orphaned at the early age of two, he has ghostly memories of a past that makes his flawless model life feel out of place. And then there are the illusive dreams. Visions of someone that relentlessly possess his nights. What does it all mean? Where will it all lead? This time, he’s not the one that is at the top of the game.

I truly hope you will enjoy Ice Bound, I have discovered so much through this amazing excursion. From writing, rewriting, editing, revising to discovering and respecting the ways of the witch community. I’ve always had a fascination with witches, and I don’t think that fondness will ever leave me. I bet you could guess what I plan on dressing up for this All Hallow’s Eve. So, while you’re out trick-or-treating glance up at the moon for me and know I’m wishing you a blessed and happy Samhain!

Fangtastic Reads – Author Interview with Eva LeNoir

Welcome, I’m glad you’re here with me.  Today, I’m hosting a good friend of mine and talented author, Eva LeNoir. Eva is a world traveler, currently resides in France. How awesome is that? She believes in women and their ability to walk hand in hand with any man and her characters echo this belief. So, join me in welcoming Eva LeNoir to My Blog. <claps hands>

1. What’s your favorite book that you’ve written and can you tell us why?

Why Karli…ALL OF THEM of course! That being said, Stone Cold holds a special place in my heart because Jared Stones drove me to drink. Quite literally.

Well, Eva, if you’re going to drink then France sounds like the ideal country to be in!  

2. What’s your favorite book by another author?

Oh, wow. Just one? If I stay in the Romance world, I’ll have to say anything by C.d. Reiss. On a more general note, I might say The Great Gatsby. No, wait…Leviathan by Paul Auster. No, no…The Painted House by John Grisham. Oh, dang it.

3. Do you put your own life experiences into your writing or is it more research and imagination?

For this series, it’s definitely research and imagination. I’d love to take kickboxing classes and am planning on it this year (I hope). That being said, I think we always pour something of ourselves into each and every character.

4. If you knew that you would not make a dime from your writing, would you keep doing it? And if so, why?

Absolutely. Writing is my balance from a hectic life. It keeps me from going postal, most days.

5. How would you get rid of a million dollars that you couldn’t spend on yourself?

Hmmmmm… I would give that money to help research for all the rare diseases that are being ignored. I can understand that funding goes to research for the illnesses that kill the masses. However, my heart breaks every time I hear about anyone being completely helpless because of our lack of treatment for rare diseases.

6. What was your most exciting experience as an author you’ve had?

Meeting Sara Biblio (from The Bibliophile Blog) in NYC. I felt so loved

7. Can you tell us how you came up with the titles for your books?

A lot of brainstorming with my girl Kylie Gray.

8. Okay, you are standing in a line and you see a blind man drop a twenty and the woman behind him in line, pockets it. What do you do? What would one of your protagonist do?

I would politely let the woman know that she needed to hand over the cash, making sure that everyone could hear me. Ellen? She’d probably kick her ass and skip the whole annoying-questions thing.

9. What is the craziest idea, dream, concept that you’ve had for a book? Will you write it?

I want to write about Corsica, my home…my roots. The story is about the mafia that rules our world over there but the thing is…I already know the readers are going to hate me. The problem is that I can’t write it any other way. I know, it’s all very vague but you ain’t getting more outta me, chica!

Well, with that little tidbit, I am hooked girl!

10. Looking ahead, what project is at the top of your writing list? 

 And do you have a playlist and images for your main characters?

I have 3 projects staring me straight in the face. Deadlines with all of them. As far as playlists are concerned, I have songs that I listen to while I drive and those are usually inspirations to certain scenes. Oddly enough, I get a great deal of my scenes either in the shower or while I’m writing. The problem is that I have a hard time remembering which songs did what so I never list them. I do have images on my Author page, absolutely!

Thank you so much for having me, Karli. 

Eva, thank you for being here today and for sharing your work with us! We look forward to your next release. ❤ 

Here’s how to stalk Eva.

Facebook

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Her Books

blood weight

Book Blurb

As a young independent vampire, Ellen Banks takes the ring, and all eyes are on her. The lithe rebel has worked hard to get to this one moment in her less-than-stellar life. No one will stand in her way of that championship belt, especially not the powerful and impossibly salacious Nash Stanford. If only her traitorous body’s reaction would shut the hell up.

Stone Cold

Book Blurb

Heated one night sessions between the sheets, the handsome yet arrogant Jared Stones spends his days training Ellen Banks. When a blast from the past appears, unannounced and more importantly uninvited, all hell breaks loose.

Sister to the Alpha of her pack, Sloane Pierce is convinced by long time friend, Ellen that her presence is required. Every one of her primal instincts warns of that outcome, deadly at best. Unable to say no, she is dragged by a wild and forceful fate that has other ideas. Is destiny on their side or will history repeat itself like all the other times.

White Fire

Book Blurb

As the attacks continue against Nash Stanford and the members of his underground arena, one key element to the mystery suddenly disappears.

Kyle Pearce finds himself in an unknown location and in the presence of an unknown female when he wakes from a dreamless sleep. But as the pieces of the puzzle slowly come together, he is faced with an unrelenting desire for his sweet, caring and simply amazing kidnapper. One problem, she is not a shifter, she is not a wolf.

Aishlyn O’Shea had been raised to follow her father’s instructions to the tee…until now. Completely enthralled with the alpha that now resides in her home, she fights the onslaught of dark desires that seem to attack her every nerve ending. Unfortunately for her, Kyle Pearce is forbidden fruit, no matter how much she yearns to sink her teeth into his delectable flesh.

How can there ever be future together for this unlikely couple when the obstacles keep piling up against them?

Tag I’m it! Blog Hop

Tag you’re it!

Well hello, I was invited by an extremely wonderful and very talented  author friend, Eva LeNoir, to participate in a “blog hop interview.” In order to participate, I will answer a few interview questions, and then I will tag three other author’s. They post interview questions on their blog pages. The folks they tag, will post their interview questions and answers on their blogs, and so forth. A lot of hopping! You can find Eva’s interview questions and answers   here

1. What are you working on right now?

I am working on my first Contemporary Romance which is titled Let Your Heart Drive.  It is a tale of a young girl, Sinead Noelle, she’s struggling with life and all that it has to throw at her. She hungers to stand on her own two feet and face her own secret demons. What she finds during this life’s journey is, Shawn. A young man who works in road side for a car rental company. He doesn’t know it yet but all this time he’s been living a life filled with ease as he helps support his sister and niece. He thinks life is good, but then his own life spins out of control with a single phone call.  When destiny brings these two together will barriers be broken, walls be destroyed, and secrets revealed? 

Let Your Heart Drive Book Cover 3

2. How does it differ from other works in its genre?  

I would say that I  am pulling a lot from my own life experiences here in Oklahoma. So, that in itself, I feel, gives it a uniqueness that you won’t find in another book. 

3. Why do you write what you do?

I write for myself mainly. I love stories and after reading a be-gillion books I feel something is missing. Something I feel drawn to put in a story. So, that usually leads me into writing, my way. I love the creation of a novel and the development of my characters. They speak to me and I listen, it is just the way I write. My hope is that once I am happy with one of my books that if finds its way into the hands of someone else that will enjoy it too.

4. How does your writing process work?

It is such a creative process. I expose my imagination to a variety of things, music, news, nature walks, anything really. I wait with my mind wide open and see what comes to me. If it doesn’t come I don’t write. My main problem, which is a good one, is that it doesn’t quit coming. I have about four books rattling inside my head right now and Let Your Heart Drive won its place in the front of the line, so that one is next. 

In addition, I am tagging the following authors. Kristie Haigwood, Trish Marie Dawson, ER Pierce. Make sure to check out their blog posts on the following date: October 21, 2013.

Okay… I am tagging three authors — you’re it!

Kristie Haigwood

Save My Soul

Kristie Haigwood’s Blog

Trish Marie Dawson

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Trish Marie Dawson’s Blog

ER Pierce

ER Pierce book cover (2)

ER Pierce’s Blog

Shadow Bound – Book 4 (Prequel to the Crescent Bound Series)

Some things in life become long overdue.  In writing, I like to say the long anticipated addition to the series.  This is the last line I wrote today.  “The End”  So, you know what that means? No, it is not being published yet. Rounds of editing are due up next. Will it be out in August?  I certainly hope so. I even will go as far as to think so. Can I promise you? Nope, but we can hope and anticipate together now, because as of tomorrow it is out of my hands and into the editor’s.

This novel was quite a challenge for me on so many different levels. It pushed me to nosedive right into a medieval type world, and build my own fictitious nature to it.  I hope that everyone will enjoy it and fall in love with the world I created. I want you to relive Marcus’s past life.  I originally wrote the Crescent Bound series thinking I was writing about Alyssa and her life.  I have now learned that it may be more about Marc and his life and discoveries than I ever thought before. This novel should shed some light on that note for you.

Since I promised in blood to have this one out in July, I owe you all some blood.  I will be bleeding for you with updates right here on my blog.

Here is a little something to wet your appetite.

Shadow Bound

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My inspiration for King Landalin

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The Seer and Witch, Marda, that fell in love with prince Landalin in their youth

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The Seer and Shadow Walker – Alissa (aka Alyssa)

*The meaning behind her name – The spelling of her name was formed from a plant called the alyssum flower, in a time they had  thought it would cure madness. *

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King Marcus and Alissa

***I highly recommend reading this series in order, Demon Bound (book 3) is definitely a must before diving into this book, it will make sense of why and how this story is revealed.***

As promised I will keep updated posts on here and hopefully soon I will have  the book trailer for you!