The day to celebrate love and lovers is almost upon us once again! Amid the candy hearts and cards being exchanged and given to show our love for another, is a man who was beheaded for his beliefs and his aid to young martyred Christians. Being a student of Catholic school, while we did celebrate V-Day amongst ourselves, technically, the day was not officially recognized, and the nuns who taught us went out of their way to remind us of who the man behind the holiday was.
There are conflicting reports to his origin, but most agree he was a priest who was martyred in 269 AD. His crimes consisted of marrying Christian couples in the Roman Empire, and aiding other young Christians being persecuted during Claudius II’s reign. He was jailed and condemned to death. Supposedly, at first, they tried to stone and beat him to death, when it didn’t work as expected, he was beheaded. The date of his execution – you guessed it! February 14. It wasn’t until 496 that the date of his death was marked as the celebration of his martyrdom by the Pope at the time (I should know that, Sr. Maureen would be so disappointed in me). There is some dispute as to when his day of remembrance became associated with romantic love, but I tend to believe it was the Middle Ages when the day to celebrate romantic love truly became forever linked with him. Perhaps because he did marry Christian couples, although I also recall learning at some point that the origins of the rituals of Valentine’s Day come from cultures such as Ancient Greek and Roman societies. But I could be wrong, it was a long time ago when I heard that.
In any case, oddly, Valentine’s Day is not a big day for me. I know, I write romance novels, that day should be a highlight of my year. But it just isn’t. Way back when I was still a starry eyed young girl who thought a handsome knight would sweep me off to a life of pampering, luxury and utter adoration, I exchanged Valentines with my boyfriends, and swore undying love. Of course, I know better now, and looking back on some of those boyfriends, I am extremely glad that undying love only lasted a few weeks, or months, at best! And some of those special Valentine’s Days turned out to be pretty lousy no matter what plans I made. But these days, it’s usually just like any other day, it’s very rare to have anything special planned in our house. Priorities are making sure the kids have a fun day – usually includes a gift of some sort, making sure they wear red for their class parties, and of course, preparing their Valentines to share with their classes and friends. But after a full day of working outside my home, then coming home and working several more hours at my real (read: Mom) job, I’m just happy to get an hour or so to myself. Alone. With no kids, or a husband, needing me for something - which usually turns out to be something they can generally handle themselves – no laundry or dirty dishes to tend to, no toys to be picked up and the like. Though a box of chocolates would be nice. But I don’t need a holiday to indulge in that!
What’s your favorite Valentine’s Day tradition? Do you have special plans this year? Was there a particular Valentine’s Day that was especially memorable for you – either good or bad? Share it here – two lucky commenters will win either a $25 Amazon gift certificate or a gift basket from Bath & Body Works! I’ll announce the winners next Tuesday.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
What A Difference A Year Makes
Literally. At this time last year, I was in the throes of a very emotional roller-coaster ride in my pursuit of publication. For close to twenty years, I’ve been a member of RWA and my local chapter, as well as other organizations and chapters. I’ve taken classes, attended conferences, pitched my manuscripts in various venues, and done all I could to improve my craft. I wrote at least seven 100K+ word manuscripts. My writing improved, I developed some wonderful friendships, and I basically enjoyed the process, as frustrating as it could be at times. I’ve always prided myself on a thick skin, and welcomed comments, both good and bad, with eagerness. After all, every suggestion or comment to my work could only improve it, right?
Last year, it all came crashing down. Many of my critique partners know that last summer, when it all came to a head, was probably the very worst time for me, in all my years of writing for publication. Suddenly, there were no good things to hear, only bad, and some of it was truly scathing or harsh. Even after pitches and requests for partials and sometimes full manuscripts, my submissions either vanished into the ether, and my follow-up emails went ignored, or I was dismissed with haste. I was at the point where I almost gave up writing altogether, for other reasons as well as the rejections. I took steps to make a clean break – big steps. I disengaged from various writers’ loops, unfollowed a lot of people on Twitter, and cut myself off from the writing world. When Healing the Mage placed dead last in Passionate Ink’s Stroke of Midnight contest, it seemed to be the final confirmation of the new path I was about to embark upon – one without writing in my life. Two very dear friends, and fantastic critique partners, Janet Walters and Kathy Attalla, were critical in talking me back from the ledge, and encouraged me not to give up. I had publishers on my list I really wanted to submit to, but after the beating I had taken up to that point, I was really afraid to chance it again at that time. After all, when more than one editor sends you standard one-line form rejections (this happened several times after glowing comments and very eager requests for the full), and another tells you not to submit to them again, and still others just ignore you outright, it kind of throws you off course and tarnishes the dream. And I guess I’d hit my limit for how much rejection I could take.
Of course, that all changed when Noble Romance Publishing contracted In The Devil’s Arms. I’d long had Noble on my list of targeted publishers, but my ego and confidence in my writing skills had taken such a blow, I almost didn’t submit. Obviously, I am glad Janet and Kathy were there for the push I needed, and we all know how it turned out! :)
So here I am after a rough year, and as eager to write as I was way back when I first started. As my critique partners know, I cut my teeth on historicals, particularly medieval. And last November, I decided to go back to that time period and wrote the first draft of an erotic medieval tale, one that involves capture-fantasy, and features BDSM and ménage elements. Now I am in the middle of revising and polishing, and enjoying the tale as I do so. After I finished it, I pretty much put it aside to get through the holidays and finish up my revisions on Healing the Mage, so the story is feeling rather new to me again, Of course, there are some plot holes to fix, and plenty of typos to correct, and as I am working to fix those, I am realizing that I don’t think I could ever not write. Somehow, some way, whether it be fan fiction, or my own little fantasies, I would write.
I’m not sure what brought all of this to my head in the last few days. But I’ve been thinking the last few days about how close I came to throwing it all away and how very glad I am that I didn’t. Thanks to some friends who knew better than I did, even if at that particular moment, I didn't want to listen. Thanks guys!
Last year, it all came crashing down. Many of my critique partners know that last summer, when it all came to a head, was probably the very worst time for me, in all my years of writing for publication. Suddenly, there were no good things to hear, only bad, and some of it was truly scathing or harsh. Even after pitches and requests for partials and sometimes full manuscripts, my submissions either vanished into the ether, and my follow-up emails went ignored, or I was dismissed with haste. I was at the point where I almost gave up writing altogether, for other reasons as well as the rejections. I took steps to make a clean break – big steps. I disengaged from various writers’ loops, unfollowed a lot of people on Twitter, and cut myself off from the writing world. When Healing the Mage placed dead last in Passionate Ink’s Stroke of Midnight contest, it seemed to be the final confirmation of the new path I was about to embark upon – one without writing in my life. Two very dear friends, and fantastic critique partners, Janet Walters and Kathy Attalla, were critical in talking me back from the ledge, and encouraged me not to give up. I had publishers on my list I really wanted to submit to, but after the beating I had taken up to that point, I was really afraid to chance it again at that time. After all, when more than one editor sends you standard one-line form rejections (this happened several times after glowing comments and very eager requests for the full), and another tells you not to submit to them again, and still others just ignore you outright, it kind of throws you off course and tarnishes the dream. And I guess I’d hit my limit for how much rejection I could take.
Of course, that all changed when Noble Romance Publishing contracted In The Devil’s Arms. I’d long had Noble on my list of targeted publishers, but my ego and confidence in my writing skills had taken such a blow, I almost didn’t submit. Obviously, I am glad Janet and Kathy were there for the push I needed, and we all know how it turned out! :)
So here I am after a rough year, and as eager to write as I was way back when I first started. As my critique partners know, I cut my teeth on historicals, particularly medieval. And last November, I decided to go back to that time period and wrote the first draft of an erotic medieval tale, one that involves capture-fantasy, and features BDSM and ménage elements. Now I am in the middle of revising and polishing, and enjoying the tale as I do so. After I finished it, I pretty much put it aside to get through the holidays and finish up my revisions on Healing the Mage, so the story is feeling rather new to me again, Of course, there are some plot holes to fix, and plenty of typos to correct, and as I am working to fix those, I am realizing that I don’t think I could ever not write. Somehow, some way, whether it be fan fiction, or my own little fantasies, I would write.
I’m not sure what brought all of this to my head in the last few days. But I’ve been thinking the last few days about how close I came to throwing it all away and how very glad I am that I didn’t. Thanks to some friends who knew better than I did, even if at that particular moment, I didn't want to listen. Thanks guys!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Inspiration
Another week, another snow storm. This one’s ice and freezing rain as well. Ugh! Despite having grown up in the Northeast, I am not a fan of snow, or cold weather in general, yet there are some good things about it – the holidays, and hockey (read: NY Rangers) season. That’s really about it, as far as I’m concerned.
But today’s post is not about the weather. It’s about inspiration. Writers live for inspiration, and when it strikes, it’s a truly fantastic feeling. It often pops up in unexpected places at unexpected times. Sometimes at really bad times, too. That’s happened to me more times than I can count. Nothing worse than driving the kids to school (or dance class, or sports, or parties) when an idea for a really hot story pops into my head.
Sometimes, I get my inspiration from various fiction genres, whether it’s a TV show, a movie, or even another book. Sometimes a bit of dialogue will trigger something, and the next thing I know, I’m off and running in a new world with new characters. I wrote a whole book based on one line of dialogue from a character in a campy 90’s TV show called Dracula: The Series. There are also times real events and real people will also spark my creativity. I think all writers are the same in that their inspiration comes from many different sources.
Lately, my inspiration has been coming from two of my favorite animated shows, Avatar: The Last Airbender, and Dragonball Z. Both shows have recently come back into my regular viewing orbit, thanks to my son, who adores both of them in their current rerunning on Nicktoons. (YAY! Someone to share them with!) As my friends know, I tend to get obsessive about my fandoms. Highlander and Harry Potter are my two favorites by far, but I have many many others, as well.
In rediscovering Avatar and Dragonball, I’m reminded of the incredible talent of their creators. The rich world of Avatar is steeped in Eastern philosophy and culture. Yet at the same time, it is vastly different in so many ways. The characters are complex and conflicted in various ways, and the mythology of the series, while at its core is a basic struggle of good vs. evil, is deep and multi-layered. Many things that seem unimportant in one episode turn out to be of major importance in another, as Aang’s saga progresses. There are many dramatic moments, just as many comedic ones, and yes, even romance. Characters act heroically, yet they also act un-heroically or childish (the core characters are all under 18 so that is to be expected), but they are REAL. In many cases, I find their reactions or behavior to be more realistic than some of the current prime-time drama shows. In addition to the core good and evil battles, it is also a story of redemption, for several of the characters. The way they grow and change, yet remain true to themselves, simply draws me in.
Dragonball Z is another example of a world where good must defeat evil. Goku, the Saiyan warrior who vows to defend Earth, is always fighting off some threat to his family and friends, and the general population of our dear planet - when he isn’t stuffing his face, that is! I love Goku, but I do find him a little “too” good for me. He’s at his best when he’s angry and fighting, in my opinion. As I tend to prefer the villains in general, Raditz, Goku’s brother, and Vegeta, the Prince of the Saiyan race, are two of my favorite characters from the show, and both are most definitely on the side of evil, at least at the beginning of the saga. Raditz, sadly, ends up dead very early on, which irks me to no end. He is one of my all time favorite villains. Oh, if he had lived… And that hair - he simply has the most gorgeous hair, and for an animated character, he is one of the hottest males I've ever encountered. I love to imagine just what he could do with that tail of his!
Vegeta, also superbly evil with apparently no conscience, also dies, but thankfully, he is wished back to life using the Dragonballs. Vegeta’s story is one of redemption as well, at least, I interpret it that way. Sadly, as he is not our noble heroic Goku, we don’t get to see as much of his journey to the “good” side. He still retains his gruff exterior, even though he goes from being selfishly focused only on himself and his needs and wants, to showing concern for others and even proves his love for his family in a most dramatic way. Yet, always lurking deep inside is his embrace of the dark side. He fights against it, but it’s still there, lending a dangerous edge to his personality.
Both of these shows have given me some ideas for books. While I currently have my Magiste series at the forefront of my work, I have been working out various scenarios for other worlds in which to play. Magic and other superhuman skills play a big part in my characters, which may be why I am so drawn to these shows. Yet at the same time, I realize I must find something lacking in them as well. While they may inspire me, I build my own worlds and characters with my own sets of rules, tweaking and reworking them until I get them right where I want. Right now, I am learning the planet Aldarra is in turmoil, and citizens of the Aldarran race are going to have a big effect on a few people right here on Earth. An entire race is in jeopardy and needs the help of us lowly humans to restore the balance – and so good will triumph over evil. Yet, good is a relative term in my worlds, maybe it’s more appropriate to say the lesser of two evils? Currently, I have the beginning of the first book written, but as more characters have come to life in my head, I can see at least three total for the saga. My spreadsheets are getting bigger every day.
So what inspires you? What sort of things trigger an idea, a character, or a whole new world? Do you like to repeatedly write in that world, or is one time enough? I’m always fascinated by others’ world-building techniques, and love to hear about them.
But today’s post is not about the weather. It’s about inspiration. Writers live for inspiration, and when it strikes, it’s a truly fantastic feeling. It often pops up in unexpected places at unexpected times. Sometimes at really bad times, too. That’s happened to me more times than I can count. Nothing worse than driving the kids to school (or dance class, or sports, or parties) when an idea for a really hot story pops into my head.
Sometimes, I get my inspiration from various fiction genres, whether it’s a TV show, a movie, or even another book. Sometimes a bit of dialogue will trigger something, and the next thing I know, I’m off and running in a new world with new characters. I wrote a whole book based on one line of dialogue from a character in a campy 90’s TV show called Dracula: The Series. There are also times real events and real people will also spark my creativity. I think all writers are the same in that their inspiration comes from many different sources.
Lately, my inspiration has been coming from two of my favorite animated shows, Avatar: The Last Airbender, and Dragonball Z. Both shows have recently come back into my regular viewing orbit, thanks to my son, who adores both of them in their current rerunning on Nicktoons. (YAY! Someone to share them with!) As my friends know, I tend to get obsessive about my fandoms. Highlander and Harry Potter are my two favorites by far, but I have many many others, as well.
In rediscovering Avatar and Dragonball, I’m reminded of the incredible talent of their creators. The rich world of Avatar is steeped in Eastern philosophy and culture. Yet at the same time, it is vastly different in so many ways. The characters are complex and conflicted in various ways, and the mythology of the series, while at its core is a basic struggle of good vs. evil, is deep and multi-layered. Many things that seem unimportant in one episode turn out to be of major importance in another, as Aang’s saga progresses. There are many dramatic moments, just as many comedic ones, and yes, even romance. Characters act heroically, yet they also act un-heroically or childish (the core characters are all under 18 so that is to be expected), but they are REAL. In many cases, I find their reactions or behavior to be more realistic than some of the current prime-time drama shows. In addition to the core good and evil battles, it is also a story of redemption, for several of the characters. The way they grow and change, yet remain true to themselves, simply draws me in.
Dragonball Z is another example of a world where good must defeat evil. Goku, the Saiyan warrior who vows to defend Earth, is always fighting off some threat to his family and friends, and the general population of our dear planet - when he isn’t stuffing his face, that is! I love Goku, but I do find him a little “too” good for me. He’s at his best when he’s angry and fighting, in my opinion. As I tend to prefer the villains in general, Raditz, Goku’s brother, and Vegeta, the Prince of the Saiyan race, are two of my favorite characters from the show, and both are most definitely on the side of evil, at least at the beginning of the saga. Raditz, sadly, ends up dead very early on, which irks me to no end. He is one of my all time favorite villains. Oh, if he had lived… And that hair - he simply has the most gorgeous hair, and for an animated character, he is one of the hottest males I've ever encountered. I love to imagine just what he could do with that tail of his!
Vegeta, also superbly evil with apparently no conscience, also dies, but thankfully, he is wished back to life using the Dragonballs. Vegeta’s story is one of redemption as well, at least, I interpret it that way. Sadly, as he is not our noble heroic Goku, we don’t get to see as much of his journey to the “good” side. He still retains his gruff exterior, even though he goes from being selfishly focused only on himself and his needs and wants, to showing concern for others and even proves his love for his family in a most dramatic way. Yet, always lurking deep inside is his embrace of the dark side. He fights against it, but it’s still there, lending a dangerous edge to his personality.
Both of these shows have given me some ideas for books. While I currently have my Magiste series at the forefront of my work, I have been working out various scenarios for other worlds in which to play. Magic and other superhuman skills play a big part in my characters, which may be why I am so drawn to these shows. Yet at the same time, I realize I must find something lacking in them as well. While they may inspire me, I build my own worlds and characters with my own sets of rules, tweaking and reworking them until I get them right where I want. Right now, I am learning the planet Aldarra is in turmoil, and citizens of the Aldarran race are going to have a big effect on a few people right here on Earth. An entire race is in jeopardy and needs the help of us lowly humans to restore the balance – and so good will triumph over evil. Yet, good is a relative term in my worlds, maybe it’s more appropriate to say the lesser of two evils? Currently, I have the beginning of the first book written, but as more characters have come to life in my head, I can see at least three total for the saga. My spreadsheets are getting bigger every day.
So what inspires you? What sort of things trigger an idea, a character, or a whole new world? Do you like to repeatedly write in that world, or is one time enough? I’m always fascinated by others’ world-building techniques, and love to hear about them.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Some News and A Pain in the Neck
So once again, I’ve let too much time pass between posts. I’m sitting propped up with pillows and a neck pillow to try and ease this really, really painful stiff neck. I can barely move at all. Spent entire day yesterday nursing my little guy, thankfully he seems to be much better. Never a dull moment.
But I woke to a wonderful surprise this morning. Noble Romance Publishing has offered me a contract for Healing the Mage, the sequel to In The Devil’s Arms. Some of you may remember the snippet I posted a couple of months back, and my critique partners are very familiar with Lily and Aidan. As you can imagine, I am thrilled! I will have more details as they become available. At this moment, I have two other books planned in this series, characters and plotlines on my spreadsheets, and I have a glimmer of an idea for another. For now, though, those are on hold as I work on revisions for two others, The Night Club, my next vampire story, and the medieval Scottish tale I wrote during NaNo. It doesn't really have a title, been calling it Passion's Vengeance, but I really need to come up with another. Hmm, just got an idea. Stay tuned. :)
To celebrate this good news, here’s another little snippet from Healing the Mage:
The crack of leather against flesh, followed immediately by a muffled grunt from the submissive bound to the bench, cut through the hushed murmurs of the spectators. The spotlight bore down on the couple in the center of the room, the viewing area shrouded with dark shadows.
Ignoring the scene before them, Aidan Marchand stared at his soon-to-be former business partner. The man had finally cracked. Another strike of the submissive’s flesh, and the scene ended as she writhed on the bench, clearly reaching the desired climax, her cries filled with heat and tears. Aidan turned again to the pair being observed by many eager eyes, but he barely noticed the way the Dom unbound his submissive and drew her into his arms.
"Think about it, Marchand," Eddie Orvano said, his own beady gaze focused on the pair scening before them. "The money we can make — "
Aidan held up a hand. "Not here." He glanced around, though no one paid them any attention.
Eddie led Aidan to a somewhat secluded corner. The party wasn’t as crowded as earlier, many of the single attendees having left or found a partner to play with. Aidan closed his eyes against the throbbing in his head. It only grew worse, intensifying with every passing hour. As soon as he let Eddie know he planned on ending their partnership, he would head home to his comfortable bed and a long night’s sleep. He had too many other issues to focus on, and getting caught up in Orvano’s depraved scheme would ruin everything.
"Look at all these girls. They’re playing," Eddie said. He waved a hand about, indicating several single women perched at various places near the doorway, all subs based on the ribbons pinned to the right side of their outfits. The one in the middle, a striking Creole enchantress. Aidan had seen before. He and Eddie had had a three-way with her several weeks ago.
"That’s what these parties are for. To play." Aidan emphasized the word. What the fuck had he been thinking to come tonight? He’d had no inclination to scene with anyone, but Eddie had lured him with the hint of a new business venture. At first intrigued, now he wanted nothing more than to get away from the man who had finally let his fascination with the dark arts overcome him. This wasn’t just playing with mind control and pushing the limits with magic and sex, what Orvano planned crossed so many lines, at the least unethical, at worst, illegal. And insane.
"That’s not what I mean. How many of these women really have any idea what it’s like to be a true slave? No rights, no say in their lives. Merely a possession." The eagerness in Eddie’s voice, the unholy light gleaming in his tiny eyes, sent another flash of fiery pain through the center of Aidan’s brain.
He shook his head, then stopped when the pain worsened. "You’re a sick fuck. That’s not what this is about. What the hell happened to you?"
"Nothing happened to me except a need to make money. Do you know how much some of those rich foreign dignitaries will pay for American women? I’d prefer non-Magiste women, but think about it. All these lovely enchantresses and low-level witches are easy enough to subdue. You bind their magic, they’re the same as mortal women. I’m telling you, Marchand, we’d make fucking boatloads of money! I’ve got a business plan all laid out, the equipment and locations selected. Now it’s time to put the plan into play. That’s where you come in."
"No way. You’re not getting me involved!"
"You’re involved Marchand. I need your money to secure everything and get this operation running. I’m this close to hiring a manager to oversee the daily workload. I've got a few trainers lined up, too. It’ll be slow at first, but once we pick up a few girls, things are gonna get real busy real fast."
How Aidan possessed the strength not to lose his dinner right here on the floor, he'd never know. "You’re not getting one dime out of me. I’m having my lawyer draw up papers to dissolve our partnership."
Aidan turned to leave, but Eddie’s grip on his arm stopped him. He turned and stared into Orvano’s twisted face, thin lips curled with rage, eyes darkened with menace.
"You’ll stake me, Marchand. That pretty Creole over there? She told me she wasn’t really willing with you. She’ll testify before the Tribunal if it comes to that."
"What are you talking about? She was more than willing with both of us and everything we did." Aidan remembered the night. While the evening had at first started out as enjoyable, he’d quickly grown tired of her attempts to top from the bottom. His annoyance had led him to perhaps be harsher with her than he intended, but he knew she’d loved every minute of the way he whipped her.
Eddie shrugged, the skin-tight black shirt pulling over his shoulders. "You should see the video I got of you with that whip. Left some nice marks. She’s got photos of every one you put on her."
Aidan clenched his fingers, trying to force back the thumping in his head, which continued to increase with each passing second. He needed to get out of here. Now.
"Eddie, leave me out of this," he hissed through clenched teeth.
"You’re in. Until I say otherwise."
He scowled at the triumphant gleam in Orvano’s eyes and turned, his head near exploding. If he didn’t get some air, he would pass out. He finally made his way outside to the street, gulping in deep breaths. The pain in his head spread down through his shoulders and along his back. More than a headache bothered him. Il Relache. Why had the damn process chosen now to kick in?
He needed to get home, before the process rendered him weak with the pain of his growing powers. Where the hell was the nearest Portal? He didn’t see any signs of the magical glowing arch used for travel by the Magiste. Damn! The closest one was through the park. He straightened, forcing himself to concentrate on reaching the Portal.
* * * * *
Lily walked along the deserted street, wishing she'd left the bar earlier with her friends. Why did the wrong sort of man always attract her? Each time she let one get close, he hurt her in some way, proving her judgment had not gotten any better. No more. She was done with men.
Now, long after midnight, she found herself alone again, even Chartres Street dead silent and empty, unusual in this party town on a Saturday night. The faint sounds of Bourbon Street bars, the odd mix of jazz, blues and rock and roll, punctuated by drunken shouts and catcalls, faded as she approached Jackson Square.
The park, a favorite place to hang out during her teenage years, seemed eerily deserted. She’d timed this perfectly, so no one would see her tear-streaked makeup.
For a moment, Lily longed to go home to her parents and cry to her mother, to listen to the older woman’s advice and comfort as she had during her horrific teenage years. She shook her head. She’d cut those ties but good a long time ago. Her mother no longer offered the haven of reassurance she’d once been. Regret still burned in Lily’s gut, but she would prove to all of them she could survive without magic. Her job skills served her well, and she didn’t need magic to achieve what she’d accomplished in the last three years. If only her family could be proud of her. Why couldn't they ever see her as worthy? Her parents’ success had always been an impossible goal to strive for. Lily sighed and kicked the air, wishing she had something more satisfactory as a target. Her doubts in herself always came back to her parents' unreasonable expectations, always when she –
Something stabbed into her side, like a knife burning into her body, twisting, ripping her apart. What the hell? She looked down, expecting to see spurting blood, but the pain stopped. And slammed into her again. She doubled over, her stomach heaving.
An agony-filled groan sliced through the humid night. She looked around. No one. No wounds appeared on her body. Could this all be in her mind? Mon Dieu, what could it be? She wanted to scream against the rising volume resonating in her head, each throb and pound like crashing cymbals inside her brain. She couldn’t be imagining this agony, it hurt too much.
Another twist of fire along her spine and she cried out, falling to her knees. She pressed her hand against her mouth to prevent the scream from escaping. What was happening? She could barely see through the suffocating distress.
More cries, moans. She looked around again. There. Behind the statue of Jackson. She sucked in air and forced herself to stand on shaky legs. Each halting step jarred, each rasping breath scorched as she inched closer to the statue. She leaned heavily against the stone and panted. The soreness in her side receded a little and she crept around the monument.
A man lay huddled on the ground, curled into a fetal position. She forced her concentration on him, forced herself to ignore the pain still pulsing throughout her, though different now. The hoarse whimpers continued to increase. Lily crawled closer, each movement slow and careful, so as not to startle him. Another rough shout pierced the night and Lily froze momentarily before continuing to approach. The man clutched his head and gave a violent shudder, another deep cry torn from him.
Hesitating but a second, Lily knelt beside him, reaching out. He writhed with pain, but the instant her hand touched his shoulder, he calmed. Her fingers burned where they came in contact with him, but surprisingly, it didn’t hurt. Instead, a burst of energy coursed through her, flowing from her fingers and into the man.
His violent movements slowly stilled. He turned to her and opened his eyes. She froze, pinned by his silvery gaze. She should have known, should have recognized the pale blonde hair plastered to his head with sweat.
Aidan Marchand.
It had been years since she’d seen him, even longer since she’d exchanged more than a word or two with him. Her godmother Helene’s stepson. She’d barely known him, he'd been a few years ahead of her in school. She’d never given him more than a passing thought. What was wrong with him? Had he been cursed? She needed to get him some help.
She drew her hand away, and he immediately cried out, his body wracked once more with shudders. The sharp stabbing started again in her side, fiercer than before. She bent over, seeking some way to ease it. He reached for her and before she could back away, had grabbed her wrist. Even in the throes of whatever madness held him, his grip remained strong, too strong to break. But he calmed once more.
"Don’t let go." She barely understood his slurred words.
"Wh-what?"
"You’re a Healer. Don’t let go."
"I . . . but . . . . " She couldn’t break free if she tried. He was right. She possessed the gift of healing. And she could deny it no longer.
But I woke to a wonderful surprise this morning. Noble Romance Publishing has offered me a contract for Healing the Mage, the sequel to In The Devil’s Arms. Some of you may remember the snippet I posted a couple of months back, and my critique partners are very familiar with Lily and Aidan. As you can imagine, I am thrilled! I will have more details as they become available. At this moment, I have two other books planned in this series, characters and plotlines on my spreadsheets, and I have a glimmer of an idea for another. For now, though, those are on hold as I work on revisions for two others, The Night Club, my next vampire story, and the medieval Scottish tale I wrote during NaNo. It doesn't really have a title, been calling it Passion's Vengeance, but I really need to come up with another. Hmm, just got an idea. Stay tuned. :)
To celebrate this good news, here’s another little snippet from Healing the Mage:
The crack of leather against flesh, followed immediately by a muffled grunt from the submissive bound to the bench, cut through the hushed murmurs of the spectators. The spotlight bore down on the couple in the center of the room, the viewing area shrouded with dark shadows.
Ignoring the scene before them, Aidan Marchand stared at his soon-to-be former business partner. The man had finally cracked. Another strike of the submissive’s flesh, and the scene ended as she writhed on the bench, clearly reaching the desired climax, her cries filled with heat and tears. Aidan turned again to the pair being observed by many eager eyes, but he barely noticed the way the Dom unbound his submissive and drew her into his arms.
"Think about it, Marchand," Eddie Orvano said, his own beady gaze focused on the pair scening before them. "The money we can make — "
Aidan held up a hand. "Not here." He glanced around, though no one paid them any attention.
Eddie led Aidan to a somewhat secluded corner. The party wasn’t as crowded as earlier, many of the single attendees having left or found a partner to play with. Aidan closed his eyes against the throbbing in his head. It only grew worse, intensifying with every passing hour. As soon as he let Eddie know he planned on ending their partnership, he would head home to his comfortable bed and a long night’s sleep. He had too many other issues to focus on, and getting caught up in Orvano’s depraved scheme would ruin everything.
"Look at all these girls. They’re playing," Eddie said. He waved a hand about, indicating several single women perched at various places near the doorway, all subs based on the ribbons pinned to the right side of their outfits. The one in the middle, a striking Creole enchantress. Aidan had seen before. He and Eddie had had a three-way with her several weeks ago.
"That’s what these parties are for. To play." Aidan emphasized the word. What the fuck had he been thinking to come tonight? He’d had no inclination to scene with anyone, but Eddie had lured him with the hint of a new business venture. At first intrigued, now he wanted nothing more than to get away from the man who had finally let his fascination with the dark arts overcome him. This wasn’t just playing with mind control and pushing the limits with magic and sex, what Orvano planned crossed so many lines, at the least unethical, at worst, illegal. And insane.
"That’s not what I mean. How many of these women really have any idea what it’s like to be a true slave? No rights, no say in their lives. Merely a possession." The eagerness in Eddie’s voice, the unholy light gleaming in his tiny eyes, sent another flash of fiery pain through the center of Aidan’s brain.
He shook his head, then stopped when the pain worsened. "You’re a sick fuck. That’s not what this is about. What the hell happened to you?"
"Nothing happened to me except a need to make money. Do you know how much some of those rich foreign dignitaries will pay for American women? I’d prefer non-Magiste women, but think about it. All these lovely enchantresses and low-level witches are easy enough to subdue. You bind their magic, they’re the same as mortal women. I’m telling you, Marchand, we’d make fucking boatloads of money! I’ve got a business plan all laid out, the equipment and locations selected. Now it’s time to put the plan into play. That’s where you come in."
"No way. You’re not getting me involved!"
"You’re involved Marchand. I need your money to secure everything and get this operation running. I’m this close to hiring a manager to oversee the daily workload. I've got a few trainers lined up, too. It’ll be slow at first, but once we pick up a few girls, things are gonna get real busy real fast."
How Aidan possessed the strength not to lose his dinner right here on the floor, he'd never know. "You’re not getting one dime out of me. I’m having my lawyer draw up papers to dissolve our partnership."
Aidan turned to leave, but Eddie’s grip on his arm stopped him. He turned and stared into Orvano’s twisted face, thin lips curled with rage, eyes darkened with menace.
"You’ll stake me, Marchand. That pretty Creole over there? She told me she wasn’t really willing with you. She’ll testify before the Tribunal if it comes to that."
"What are you talking about? She was more than willing with both of us and everything we did." Aidan remembered the night. While the evening had at first started out as enjoyable, he’d quickly grown tired of her attempts to top from the bottom. His annoyance had led him to perhaps be harsher with her than he intended, but he knew she’d loved every minute of the way he whipped her.
Eddie shrugged, the skin-tight black shirt pulling over his shoulders. "You should see the video I got of you with that whip. Left some nice marks. She’s got photos of every one you put on her."
Aidan clenched his fingers, trying to force back the thumping in his head, which continued to increase with each passing second. He needed to get out of here. Now.
"Eddie, leave me out of this," he hissed through clenched teeth.
"You’re in. Until I say otherwise."
He scowled at the triumphant gleam in Orvano’s eyes and turned, his head near exploding. If he didn’t get some air, he would pass out. He finally made his way outside to the street, gulping in deep breaths. The pain in his head spread down through his shoulders and along his back. More than a headache bothered him. Il Relache. Why had the damn process chosen now to kick in?
He needed to get home, before the process rendered him weak with the pain of his growing powers. Where the hell was the nearest Portal? He didn’t see any signs of the magical glowing arch used for travel by the Magiste. Damn! The closest one was through the park. He straightened, forcing himself to concentrate on reaching the Portal.
* * * * *
Lily walked along the deserted street, wishing she'd left the bar earlier with her friends. Why did the wrong sort of man always attract her? Each time she let one get close, he hurt her in some way, proving her judgment had not gotten any better. No more. She was done with men.
Now, long after midnight, she found herself alone again, even Chartres Street dead silent and empty, unusual in this party town on a Saturday night. The faint sounds of Bourbon Street bars, the odd mix of jazz, blues and rock and roll, punctuated by drunken shouts and catcalls, faded as she approached Jackson Square.
The park, a favorite place to hang out during her teenage years, seemed eerily deserted. She’d timed this perfectly, so no one would see her tear-streaked makeup.
For a moment, Lily longed to go home to her parents and cry to her mother, to listen to the older woman’s advice and comfort as she had during her horrific teenage years. She shook her head. She’d cut those ties but good a long time ago. Her mother no longer offered the haven of reassurance she’d once been. Regret still burned in Lily’s gut, but she would prove to all of them she could survive without magic. Her job skills served her well, and she didn’t need magic to achieve what she’d accomplished in the last three years. If only her family could be proud of her. Why couldn't they ever see her as worthy? Her parents’ success had always been an impossible goal to strive for. Lily sighed and kicked the air, wishing she had something more satisfactory as a target. Her doubts in herself always came back to her parents' unreasonable expectations, always when she –
Something stabbed into her side, like a knife burning into her body, twisting, ripping her apart. What the hell? She looked down, expecting to see spurting blood, but the pain stopped. And slammed into her again. She doubled over, her stomach heaving.
An agony-filled groan sliced through the humid night. She looked around. No one. No wounds appeared on her body. Could this all be in her mind? Mon Dieu, what could it be? She wanted to scream against the rising volume resonating in her head, each throb and pound like crashing cymbals inside her brain. She couldn’t be imagining this agony, it hurt too much.
Another twist of fire along her spine and she cried out, falling to her knees. She pressed her hand against her mouth to prevent the scream from escaping. What was happening? She could barely see through the suffocating distress.
More cries, moans. She looked around again. There. Behind the statue of Jackson. She sucked in air and forced herself to stand on shaky legs. Each halting step jarred, each rasping breath scorched as she inched closer to the statue. She leaned heavily against the stone and panted. The soreness in her side receded a little and she crept around the monument.
A man lay huddled on the ground, curled into a fetal position. She forced her concentration on him, forced herself to ignore the pain still pulsing throughout her, though different now. The hoarse whimpers continued to increase. Lily crawled closer, each movement slow and careful, so as not to startle him. Another rough shout pierced the night and Lily froze momentarily before continuing to approach. The man clutched his head and gave a violent shudder, another deep cry torn from him.
Hesitating but a second, Lily knelt beside him, reaching out. He writhed with pain, but the instant her hand touched his shoulder, he calmed. Her fingers burned where they came in contact with him, but surprisingly, it didn’t hurt. Instead, a burst of energy coursed through her, flowing from her fingers and into the man.
His violent movements slowly stilled. He turned to her and opened his eyes. She froze, pinned by his silvery gaze. She should have known, should have recognized the pale blonde hair plastered to his head with sweat.
Aidan Marchand.
It had been years since she’d seen him, even longer since she’d exchanged more than a word or two with him. Her godmother Helene’s stepson. She’d barely known him, he'd been a few years ahead of her in school. She’d never given him more than a passing thought. What was wrong with him? Had he been cursed? She needed to get him some help.
She drew her hand away, and he immediately cried out, his body wracked once more with shudders. The sharp stabbing started again in her side, fiercer than before. She bent over, seeking some way to ease it. He reached for her and before she could back away, had grabbed her wrist. Even in the throes of whatever madness held him, his grip remained strong, too strong to break. But he calmed once more.
"Don’t let go." She barely understood his slurred words.
"Wh-what?"
"You’re a Healer. Don’t let go."
"I . . . but . . . . " She couldn’t break free if she tried. He was right. She possessed the gift of healing. And she could deny it no longer.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow
So we survived the blizzard. Not that there was really any doubt, the only concern was if the wind would knock out power. It didn't. But events like this conspire to keep you from your goals. It's a regular block party on our street, with everyone out shoveling and plowing and snow-blowing. I did get a lot of laundry done, organized and put away the bulk of the Christmas presents and in general got the house together. Which it needed.
The kids enjoyed it - they played for a few hours, had snowball fights and the like, came in for soup and hot cocoa and played with their Christmas toys. Nice life, eh? lol
Overall, we were lucky. There are horror stories of people stranded in their cars, on trains, in the airport, for hours. People literally abandoned their cars, as it became clear it was the only way they'd get home. Haven't heard of any injuries or deaths in our area, thankfully, but part of me has to wonder. Some of these people admitted getting on the road at 6:00pm or later, when the storm was at one of its worst points. I mean, really? Come on, have you not listened to the radio or watched TV in the last few hours? Didn't they tell you to STAY AT HOME?
I will give some people who had no choice the benefit of the doubt. There were those that definitely had to at least try to get to work. But the others, who decided let's go see how bad it really is, or maybe we can get over to cousin Joey's house and spend the storm with them, just boggle my mind. When the state declares a State of Emergency, usually that means the roads and other travelways are impassible. Technically, you're supposed to stay off the roads so the emergency crews can clear and get through as needed. If you venture out in such conditions, you're only going to get stuck, so why not just stay where you are? It's warm, you have food, and if anything dire should happen, emergency services know how to get to you.
But it's all over, save the mountains of snow all over the place which make driving a delight. I really am not a big fan of snow, it annoys me. I'd like a few inches, enough to cause a snow day, then have it all melt completely away by the next day. Oh well, the price you pay for living in NJ, I suppose.
So for now, I'll dream of May, which leads to summer, and beach vacations, and pool parties and barbecues. It'll be here fast enough!
The kids enjoyed it - they played for a few hours, had snowball fights and the like, came in for soup and hot cocoa and played with their Christmas toys. Nice life, eh? lol
Overall, we were lucky. There are horror stories of people stranded in their cars, on trains, in the airport, for hours. People literally abandoned their cars, as it became clear it was the only way they'd get home. Haven't heard of any injuries or deaths in our area, thankfully, but part of me has to wonder. Some of these people admitted getting on the road at 6:00pm or later, when the storm was at one of its worst points. I mean, really? Come on, have you not listened to the radio or watched TV in the last few hours? Didn't they tell you to STAY AT HOME?
I will give some people who had no choice the benefit of the doubt. There were those that definitely had to at least try to get to work. But the others, who decided let's go see how bad it really is, or maybe we can get over to cousin Joey's house and spend the storm with them, just boggle my mind. When the state declares a State of Emergency, usually that means the roads and other travelways are impassible. Technically, you're supposed to stay off the roads so the emergency crews can clear and get through as needed. If you venture out in such conditions, you're only going to get stuck, so why not just stay where you are? It's warm, you have food, and if anything dire should happen, emergency services know how to get to you.
But it's all over, save the mountains of snow all over the place which make driving a delight. I really am not a big fan of snow, it annoys me. I'd like a few inches, enough to cause a snow day, then have it all melt completely away by the next day. Oh well, the price you pay for living in NJ, I suppose.
So for now, I'll dream of May, which leads to summer, and beach vacations, and pool parties and barbecues. It'll be here fast enough!
Monday, December 13, 2010
It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year
I both love and loathe this time of year. I love it because for the most part, people act human, and it’s such a joy to enjoy all the sights of the season. Plus my kids’ excitement is infectious, so you can’t help smiling or laughing with them. I loathe it because it also brings out the worst in people – rudeness, stupidity and a total lack of all human decency. I spent an entire day on a marathon shopping spree, and for the most part, people were nice and helpful. But there were a few I would have loved to have clocked with my armloads of shopping bags.
The other reason the season grates is that there’s so much to do. Between all the pageants and concerts and plays, I feel like I spend a huge chunk of time in churches and school auditoriums. Not to mention the shopping – though with online shopping it is much easier than it used to be. But then there’s the tree to put up, my Christmas in the City houses that need to be put out, lights to put on the house, cookies to bake, and endless presents to wrap. Another dilemma facing me is hiding the kids’ gifts. My daughter is 14, so she knows who Santa is, but my 6 year old son is still a believer, and had quite a list to present to Santa when we visited this year. And my hiding places are growing more and more limited each year.
But the tree is up (not without some drama from above-mentioned 14 year old), the houses are out (with some heart-stopping moments from the 6 year old who insists on playing with the people!), lights are bright and cheery on the house, and the cookie ingredients are ready (I’ll be bringing some to my critique group holiday gathering, so get ready ladies). So I guess I’m ahead of things this year, which is unusual. Of course, my house looks like a few dozen bombs went off since yesterday, so there’s the downside. There’s always a downside, isn’t there? Overall, though, we had a lot of fun
But the point is, I really am feeling the season this year. Definitely more love than loathe. Last year, I had foot surgery, so everything was rushed and then I was disabled and couldn’t do much of anything, making it a "loathing" year. So I’m really enjoying even the maddening moments this year. The Ipod is loaded up with holiday songs that I’ve been playing every chance I get. And walking the malls was a lot less painful too.
What about everyone else? Are you ready? Close? What fun traditions do you have for the season, that really make it feel like holiday-time? Anyone expecting any lumps of coal this year? ;) Hard to believe that a month-plus worth of prep is all over in a day!
The other reason the season grates is that there’s so much to do. Between all the pageants and concerts and plays, I feel like I spend a huge chunk of time in churches and school auditoriums. Not to mention the shopping – though with online shopping it is much easier than it used to be. But then there’s the tree to put up, my Christmas in the City houses that need to be put out, lights to put on the house, cookies to bake, and endless presents to wrap. Another dilemma facing me is hiding the kids’ gifts. My daughter is 14, so she knows who Santa is, but my 6 year old son is still a believer, and had quite a list to present to Santa when we visited this year. And my hiding places are growing more and more limited each year.
But the tree is up (not without some drama from above-mentioned 14 year old), the houses are out (with some heart-stopping moments from the 6 year old who insists on playing with the people!), lights are bright and cheery on the house, and the cookie ingredients are ready (I’ll be bringing some to my critique group holiday gathering, so get ready ladies). So I guess I’m ahead of things this year, which is unusual. Of course, my house looks like a few dozen bombs went off since yesterday, so there’s the downside. There’s always a downside, isn’t there? Overall, though, we had a lot of fun
But the point is, I really am feeling the season this year. Definitely more love than loathe. Last year, I had foot surgery, so everything was rushed and then I was disabled and couldn’t do much of anything, making it a "loathing" year. So I’m really enjoying even the maddening moments this year. The Ipod is loaded up with holiday songs that I’ve been playing every chance I get. And walking the malls was a lot less painful too.
What about everyone else? Are you ready? Close? What fun traditions do you have for the season, that really make it feel like holiday-time? Anyone expecting any lumps of coal this year? ;) Hard to believe that a month-plus worth of prep is all over in a day!
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Playing Around
As I travel around the web, I’ve come to the realization that my blog is rather plain. Sure I have a pretty background design, but that’s about it. I see so many really cool blogs with animated graphics, rolling pictures, etc. I’ve tried to add a couple of pictures with links on them, but I screwed that up and still have not been able to figure out. I keep playing around, but nothing seems to be working.
I do some web work at my day job – most of it consists of adding product information to an information repository that auto feeds the data to various pages on our site. The rest of what I do web-related is provide information and articles to the web marketing group, and they do the programming and uploading.
I’m in awe of some of the sites I’ve visited and follow. I want to jazz my page up a bit, but I’m not sure where to start. I’d love any input or guidance anyone might have, and I might even be willing to pay for some design services, though, being the penny-pinching bargain hunter I am, I’d prefer to keep the costs down as much as possible.
I’m sure I’ve got some internet tech-savvy friends out there – can anyone enlighten the clueless? Because after that, I'd love to learn how to make trailers, banners and other types of graphic promo materials. Then again, maybe I've got pipe dreams
I do some web work at my day job – most of it consists of adding product information to an information repository that auto feeds the data to various pages on our site. The rest of what I do web-related is provide information and articles to the web marketing group, and they do the programming and uploading.
I’m in awe of some of the sites I’ve visited and follow. I want to jazz my page up a bit, but I’m not sure where to start. I’d love any input or guidance anyone might have, and I might even be willing to pay for some design services, though, being the penny-pinching bargain hunter I am, I’d prefer to keep the costs down as much as possible.
I’m sure I’ve got some internet tech-savvy friends out there – can anyone enlighten the clueless? Because after that, I'd love to learn how to make trailers, banners and other types of graphic promo materials. Then again, maybe I've got pipe dreams
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