Nocturnal Lives

Musings from the mind of Amanda S. Green – Mother, Writer, Possessed by Cats

Category: Promotions (Page 1 of 5)

Nocturnal Rebellion Snippet

Nocturnal Rebellion is now available for pre-order. It’s been a tough road getting it there. Between real life interfering and the story taking a few left turns on me — all good for the story but they threw me because they weren’t what I expected.  (I know, silly me. I ought to know by now that Myrtle the Evil Muse loves to torment me.

I’ve mentioned before how much I enjoy writing Mackenzie Santos. From the very first book, Nocturnal Origins, (currently on sale for $0.99) she’s been a character that challenged me. She’s a dedicated cop with a complicated relationship with her family, especially her mother. The family secret, one she’s not let in on until it’s too late, is why that relationship has been so strained over the years. Mac’s always known there are monsters out there. As a homicide detective, she deals with them on a daily basis. What she didn’t know until the day she died — and came back — was that not all the monsters were human, or “normals”. Now she suddenly turns furry and that’s one secret she has to protect because the world simply isn’t ready to know shapeshifters exist outside of bad Hollywood movies and literature.

Except life is never easy. Over the course of the series, Mac’s learned shifter politics are more complicated — and deadly — than anything she’s ever had to deal with. Now shapeshifters face rebellion within their kind. Complicating matters even more, they have to find a way to make their existence known to the normal world without causing a panic and a modern day version of the witch hunts. That’s the background against which Nocturnal Rebellion opens.

***

The bullpen fell silent as Chief of Detectives, Luis Santiago, moved to the front of the room. The look on his face mirrored how they each felt. Disbelief, sorrow and anger – but mostly anger – burned in his dark eyes. They knew why he was there. Every cop, not to mention every cop’s family, faced this possibility each time they reported for duty. But that didn’t make it any easier, especially not when it hit this close to home.

Santiago looked around the squad room, making eye contact with each person there. It didn’t surprise him to find more than the day shift present. He had no doubt were he to check the other squads under his command, he would find the same thing. When a cop went down in the line of duty, no one worried about vacation or sick leave. Every cop, no matter what their rank or their assignment, would report in, ready to do all they could to find the perps responsible. That knowledge made him proud to be part of the long blue line. Not that it made this part of his job any easier. Fortunately, it was not something he had to do often, but even once was one time to many.

Standing there, seeing how each of those assigned to Homicide waited, hoping he had good news for them but knowing he did not, he drew a deep breath. He could have let someone else handle this. But that would have been the easy way out and he had never been one to push the uncomfortable parts of the job off on someone else. Besides, he owed it to them, and to their lieutenant, to make sure they understood that even though he no longer worked cases on the board, he was still one of them. He hurt with them and he thirsted for the same vengeance they did.

“I’m not going to tell you this gets easier. It doesn’t and each of you knows it. Let’s be honest. This squad has faced more than its fair share of challenges these last two years.” He paused and reached up to rub his eyes, burning with unshed tears, with thumb and forefinger. As he did, he felt every one of the last twenty-six hours he had been awake. Twenty-six hours of sitting vigil at the hospital and then talking with family members, of briefing Chief of Police Darnell Culver, and of doing all he could to head off any interference by the feds. Three of his own had gone down and he was damned if he was going to let the feds or any other agency take over the case. Then he cleared his throat and continued. “Each and every time, you have risen to the challenge and done what was necessary to carry out your duties as members of the DPD. I know I’m asking a lot now, but I need you to do so once again.

“The next few days are going to be difficult for the entire force, but especially for you. You not only lost one of your own yesterday but others of the cop family as well. I’ve spend a great deal of time with the families of our fallen brethren and they’ve asked me to let you know arrangements have been made. They thank each of you for all the time you have spent with them since the ambush. They have asked that, until the funeral, members of this squad continue to be with them. They know you were all family and they will feel better having someone who knew their loved one with them. Sergeant Collins, I’ll leave it to you to arrange schedules to accommodate this request.” He glanced at the squad’s acting commander and she nodded, her expression grim.

“In three days, we will lay the first of our fallen, to rest. I expect each of you to be there in dress uniform, representing not only this squad but the best of the force. Show the city that we bleed blue. Then show them that DPD does its job, no matter what. Find the bastards responsible for the ambush and bring them in to face justice.

“It would be easy to seek vengeance. I understand that feeling because I share it. No one, no matter who they are, is allowed to kill one of our own. But we will not lower ourselves, or the rest of DPD, down to those bastards’ level. Find them and bring them in. We will let the courts deal with them and, when the time comes, we will be sitting on the front row of the viewing chamber when they are brought in for their executions.” He glanced around as detectives, uniformed officers and clerical workers nodded grimly. “Do your lieutenant proud and find those bastards before they manage to kill anyone else.”

As one, everyone present turned to look at the darkened office with its closed door and silence so profound it felt almost alive filled the squad room. Then a tall blonde with short cropped hair, her expression stone-cold, pain reflected in her eyes, stepped forward. The others waited, watching as she approached Santiago.

“Sergeant Collins, the squad is yours,” the Chief of Detectives said. “Close this case before the feds try to take over. We will not step aside for anyone, not this time.”

The blonde nodded. As she did, she blinked back the tears swimming in her eyes. “Yes, sir.”

He nodded once and shook her hand. Then he turned and left the squad room. As the door closed behind him, Pat drew a deep breath. Whether she liked it or not, the squad was hers and she had a duty to do, a duty to the DPD, her partner and her squad.

“The Chief’s right,” she said softly. She did not try to hide her grief. Each person in the room shared it. “We have to work this like any other case, but let’s be honest. This isn’t just any other case and it never will be. We will have the press looking at everything we do, questioning each move and every word spoken. Worse, IAB is going to be nosing around.” She held up a hand before anyone could protest.

“Hear me on this. No one likes the idea of the rat squad poking around. This squad has first-hand knowledge how they can twist things to meet their own needs. So I want every i dotted and every t crossed in this investigation. Work this case like your life depends on it because it very well may. We have cop killers running loose on our streets and none of us are safe until we find them. So, when IAB comes calling, we will answer their questions. The quicker we do, the quicker we get them out of the squad and out of the investigation. Don’t play games with them. If they ask or allude to anything that sets off your warning bells, let me know.

“From now until this case is solved, it’s all hands on deck. All vacation time is canceled until further notice. If you call in sick, you’d damn well better have a doctor telling me you are on your death bed. Work your contacts and get your CI’s on the street and asking questions. Finding these bastards is our priority now. That said, make sure your other cases are worked as well. Don’t miss any court dates. But hear me,this is our priority. We will find the bastards behind the ambush and we will be the ones to bring them in.”

With that, she strode across the bullpen. Pausing before the door to the office that had been her partner’s she reached down to turn the knob. As she did, her hand shook. A sob rose in her throat. She choked it down. She had to maintain control until she was behind closed doors. The squad was hers, at least until Chief Culver found someone to replace Lt. Mackenzie Santos, not that anyone could ever fill her shoes as a cop or as a partner and friend.

Damn it, Mac. I wish you were here.

 

Whew, made it!

Last week was a challenge. I’ll not bore you with the details. Let’s just say I’m glad it’s over. Now, hopefully, I can get back on track.

Part of that is figuring out why the conversion for Nocturnal Rebellion borked. Even though I’m putting it up for pre-order, it bothers me when the conversion isn’t what it should be. For that reason, I didn’t take the pre-order live. I’m looking at the file again this morning and trying to find the problem. As soon as I have it fixed and the upload goes through, I’ll post here.

In the meantime, here’s hoping everyone who attended LibertyCon over the weekend makes it home safely. Hopefully, I’ll be able to make it next year. Fingers crossed and all that.

Also, a reminder that I’ve got three books on sale right now:

Nocturnal Origins (Nocturnal Lives, Book 1)

by Amanda S. Green

Some things can never be forgotten, no matter how hard you try.

Detective Sergeant Mackenzie Santos knows that bitter lesson all too well. The day she died changed her life and her perception of the world forever.It doesn’t matter that everyone, even her doctors, believe a miracle occurred when she awoke in the hospital morgue. Mac knows better. It hadn’t been a miracle, at least not a holy one. As far as she’s concerned, that’s the day the dogs of Hell came for her.

Investigating one of the most horrendous murders in recent Dallas history, Mac also has to break in a new partner and deal with nosy reporters who follow her every move and who publish confidential details of the investigation without a qualm.

Complicating matters even more, Mac learns the truth about her family and herself, a truth that forces her to deal with the monster within, as well as those on the outside.But none of this matters as much as discovering the identity of the murderer before he can kill again.

Wedding Bell Blues

by Ellie Ferguson

Weddings always bring out the worst in people. Or at least that’s the way it seems to Jessica Jones as her younger sister’s wedding day approaches. It’s bad enough Jessie has to wear a bridesmaid dress that looks like it was designed by a color blind Harlequin. Then there’s the best man who is all hands and no manners. Now add in a murder and Jessie’s former lover — former because she caught him doing the horizontal tango on their kitchen table with her also-former best friend. It really is almost more than a girl should be expected to handle. . . .

Hunted 

by Ellie Ferguson

When Meg Finley’s parents died, the authorities classified it as a double suicide. Alone, hurting and suddenly the object of the clan’s alpha’s desire, her life was a nightmare. He didn’t care that she was grieving any more than he cared that she was only fifteen. So she’d run and she’d been running ever since. But now, years later, her luck’s run out. The alpha’s trackers have found her and they’re under orders to bring her back, no matter what. Without warning, Meg finds herself in a game of cat and mouse with the trackers in a downtown Dallas parking garage. She’s learned a lot over the years but, without help, it might not be enough to escape a fate she knows will be worse than death. What she didn’t expect was that help would come from the local clan leader. But would he turn out to be her savior or something else, something much more dangerous?

When Meg Finley’s parents died, the authorities classified it as a double suicide. Alone, hurting and suddenly the object of the clan’s alpha’s desire, her life was a nightmare. He didn’t care that she was grieving any more than he cared that she was only fifteen. So she’d run and she’d been running ever since. But now, years later, her luck’s run out. The alpha’s trackers have found her and they’re under orders to bring her back, no matter what. Without warning, Meg finds herself in a game of cat and mouse with the trackers in a downtown Dallas parking garage. She’s learned a lot over the years but, without help, it might not be enough to escape a fate she knows will be worse than death. What she didn’t expect was that help would come from the local clan leader. But would he turn out to be her savior or something else, something much more dangerous?

Another Title Discount

Good morning, all. Let’s get started with another sale announcement. I’ve lowered the price of Hunted to $0.99.

When Meg Finley’s parents died, the authorities classified it as a double suicide. Alone, hurting and suddenly the object of the clan’s alpha’s desire, her life was a nightmare. He didn’t care that she was grieving any more than he cared that she was only fifteen. So she’d run and she’d been running ever since. But now, years later, her luck’s run out. The alpha’s trackers have found her and they’re under orders to bring her back, no matter what. Without warning, Meg finds herself in a game of cat and mouse with the trackers in a downtown Dallas parking garage. She’s learned a lot over the years but, without help, it might not be enough to escape a fate she knows will be worse than death. What she didn’t expect was that help would come from the local clan leader. But would he turn out to be her savior or something else, something much more dangerous?

Here’s a snippet from Hunted:

THEY WERE HERE.

I knew it the moment I stepped outside. Despite all the precautions I’d taken, despite all the times I’d moved and left no forwarding address, they’d found me – again. It didn’t matter that I’d done everything possible to live off the grid. All it took was one small mistake and there they were.

Damn it. I really liked it here and now I had to move and move fast.

Assuming I lived long enough to do so.

Just moments before, I’d been thinking about the upcoming weekend. A couple of days off sounded good. I didn’t even mind the fact Dana had set me up on a blind date with her cousin. Not that I expected anything to come of it. Nothing ever did. Either my demons interfered or Michael’s trackers did – like now. Damn it, what’s a girl got to do to have a nice dinner and maybe some good sex?

Without breaking stride, I melted into the early afternoon foot traffic. A quick glance right and then left didn’t reveal my pursuers. But I knew there were there. I could feel their eyes on me. The back of my neck prickled. There was that itch between my shoulder blades. Instinct had kept me alive this long. Would it be enough now?

God, I was an idiot. I’d actually started believing Michael had forgotten about me or had decided it just wasn’t worth the effort to keep looking for my latest hiding spot. I should have known better. I’d embarrassed him when I refused his advances in front of the others. But that hadn’t been the end of it. He hadn’t let it go.

Bile rose in my throat at the memory of that long ago night. I’d learned what it meant to fight for your life then. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel his hands on me. I could smell the scent of him as he’d pulled me close. I’d fought back. That’s the one thing he hadn’t expected. It was over almost as quickly as it had started. That night I’d fled the only home I’d ever known, leaving him bleeding on the floor.

I’d run. I might not have looked back but I had kept a look out. I’d known Michael wouldn’t just let me go. But I’d never expected him to keep up the chase this long. God, would I never get my life back?

I’d arrived in Dallas almost a year ago, hoping to lose myself here. After fifteen years on the run, I was tired. I wanted nothing more than to settle down, find a mate and have a life. The thought of moving again, of having to establish yet another identity was almost more than I could bear.

Had I gotten careless because I was tired of running?

It didn’t matter what happened. The damage was done. If I wasn’t careful, I’d find myself once more facing Michael. This time there’d be no escape. He would view what happened so long ago as a direct insult to him, the clan’s Alpha. Michael had to bring me back. Otherwise the others would think he wasn’t strong enough to control a mere female. If he wasn’t strong enough to control a female, they’d question his ability to control the clan.

It didn’t matter that I had never been a “mere” anything where the clan was concerned.

None of that mattered. Only one thing did. I had to get away. The next person to bump into me could be the one I was running from. I’d never been one to act like a lamb awaiting the slaughter and this was no time to start. I might not be the Marine my father had been but he’d taught me well. He and my mother, God rest their souls, had taught me how to act under fire, real or metaphorical.

It was time to remember exactly who and what I was. I was the daughter of the former clan Alpha and his mate, who was an alpha in her own right. Let the fools Michael Jennings sent for me learn just what that meant.

If they wanted to play, I was more than happy to oblige.

I paused before the main display window for Neiman Marcus and glanced around, careful not to be too obvious about it. Yes, someone was definitely there. Again. As much as I’d like to believe whoever was watching me was more interested in my good looks – hah! – or even in stealing my backpack, I knew better. Despite all my attempts to tell myself differently, I’d felt their presence for a week now. Never at the same place and never at the same time – and never this close.

Damn it, I had gotten careless.

Fortunately, so had they. They were close enough I could scent them. Yes, them. There were at least three trackers close by. I probably ought to be flattered Michael had decided a single tracker wasn’t enough to bring me in. Hopefully, three wouldn’t be enough either.

I didn’t have time to wonder why Michael had suddenly changed tactics. Had something happened within the clan to force his hand? Or was he, like me, growing tired of the hunt

God, why couldn’t this be over? I like a good hunt as much as the next person. But only when I’m the hunter. This being the hunted didn’t sit well. One way or another, I had to end this game of cat and mouse. But I had to bide my time. Downtown Dallas wasn’t the place for a confrontation, at least not the sort I usually found myself involved in. So, unless I wanted our secret made public, I had to find some place secluded and I needed to find it quickly.

A hint of worry licked at my confidence. These hunters were better than the others Michael had sent for me in the past. They’d been able to track me no matter what I did to throw them off. That meant they were at least as good as I was, perhaps even better. So I had to be careful. No unnecessary risks. Well, at least no outrageously unnecessary ones. My whole life was one of risk. The fact that someone was stalking me – again – only proved it.

Fortunately Dallas, even downtown Dallas, wasn’t without out-of-the-way areas where I could put my plan into action. All I had to do was get to one before my unseen trackers decided to make their move.

I started down the block. Attorneys and their clients hurried down the street in the direction of the courthouse, briefcases swinging like weapons to part the crowd before them. Men and women in business suits strolled only slightly more leisurely back to their offices from lunch. One or two may have staggered, a bit worse for wear after one too many margaritas at lunch.

As the crowd pressed on down the street, I paused near the entrance to Renaissance Tower. I carefully shifted my backpack, settling it more comfortably over my left shoulder, leaving my right hand free. I wanted to be able to drop it without hesitation, or use it as a weapon, when the time came – and something told me that time would be soon.

I had to get off the streets.

A man bumped against me and I stiffened, relaxing only as he mumbled a quick, “’Scuse me” before moving on. One thing about Dallas, it’s a polite city. Even though I looked like the average college – okay, post-grad – student wandering the streets, people still greeted me and begged for forgiveness for whatever minor breech they thought they might have committed. Strange town this.

A slight smile touched my lips as I ducked inside the building. I knew it was a risk. There were any number of security cameras here, cameras that would capture my image. But they’d also capture the image of whoever followed me. It might not help me, but in the long run, it might help any who looked into my disappearance. That really was the best I could hope for.

The glass doors closed. For one moment I relished the cool air that greeted me. But I couldn’t stand there enjoying it. Too many others wanted inside, politely but insistently pushing past me. Then there were the trackers. I could feel them even if I couldn’t see them.

“May I help you, ma’am?” the uniformed security guard asked as I approached his desk. Then he looked up and grinned. This was the third delivery I’d made there this week. “Hi.”

He really did have a nice smile.

“Hi, Gil. I’ve got a delivery for George and Chandler from the Jessup Firm. They’re expecting it.”

I waited as he called upstairs to confirm my story. I hadn’t realized when I took the temporary job as runner for a local law firm that it would come in handy as a way to keep alive. I’d been surprised enough when it led to some very interesting dates. Now it seemed I had another reason to be thankful for those bottom feeders called lawyers.

“Twenty-fifth floor, Finn. Sign in and put this on.”

He pushed a clipboard across the desk in my direction with one hand and handed me a guest badge with the other. He glanced at the page as I scrawled my name on the first available line. I handed him back the clipboard and then attached the badge to the right front pocket of my jeans. There, I was official.

“When you going to finally agree to go have a drink with me, Finn?”

“When you don’t have a family to go home to, Gil.” That was one of my only rules. No married men, and especially no married men with kids.

I gave a little wave and moved toward the elevator bank. I needed to be smart now. More than my own future depended on it. I didn’t want to be the one responsible for letting the world-at-large know that shape-changers really do exist and that we walk among them. Michael might be willing to risk it but I wasn’t.

Ten minutes later, my delivery made, I stepped into the corridor and glanced around. No one else was visible. But that didn’t mean anything. My pursuers could very easily be waiting for me in the lobby. It would be easy enough to flank me as I stepped off the elevator. They’d rely on the fact I wouldn’t want to create a scene. By the time we were away from the crowds, it would be too late – at least for me.

They could be closer, hiding in the restrooms down the hall or in one of the stairwells. I doubted they had given up, but I could no longer feel them bearing down on me. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or not. All I knew for sure was I had to get out of the building without being forced to either surrender or reveal much more to the public than any of our kind wanted to.

The elevator doors slid open and I tensed. Instead of the demons from my past appearing, a couple of well-dressed women stepped out instead. From their whispered conversation, I knew they were talking about a different kind of assignation than the one I’d been expecting. No, they were comparing notes on their love lives, oblivious to all around them.

Inspiration hit. I reached out and stopped the door before it could close. I punched the buttons to make the elevator car stop on the twenty first, nineteenth and tenth floors before coming to a stop in the lobby. Unless I missed my guess, the car would stop on at least one other floor along the way which was all to the good. The more stops it made, and the more people who got on and off, the more difficult it became for my pursuers to realize where I had actually gone

Now, to get out of the building. Then I could make sure that any confrontation happened on my terms and not theirs.

I resisted the urge to run as I walked toward the stairwell door. I could hurry once there. Then I’d take the stairs up six floors and then take the elevator down. Everything above the thirtieth floor used a different bank of elevators than the one I’d come up on. Those elevators opened out of sight of the main lobby. Even better, they opened just across from the stairwell door that led down to the parking garage. If I could just cross to that door, I’d be in the garage before anyone knew it.

Of course, that was a very big IF….

The elevator doors opened and I let myself be swept out by the other passengers. I glanced around, every sense alive and seeking. Much as I’d hoped my shadows had given up, at least one was still there. I could feel him. He was close, too close for comfort. But where? Why couldn’t I see him?

Praying the explanation was as simple as whoever it was happened to be on the opposite side of the elevator bank and blind to my return, I looked for the stairwell door. All I had to do was get to it. That’s all. Only ten feet separated me from potential freedom.

With my backpack thumping against my side, I hit the door at a dead run. Now we’d play it my way. Let’s see just how good he – or she – happened to be. I’d bet my life – hell, I was betting my life – that he hadn’t. Dear God, I hoped I wasn’t backing the wrong horse this time.

I pelted up the drive, climbing, climbing until I saw daylight. Cars lined up at the gates, waiting for their tickets to enter or to pay so they could exit. I slipped between them, emerging onto the street. Even then I didn’t slow. I couldn’t. Not when I could hear someone behind me. Running feet, labored breathing. Good. He wasn’t in the physical condition I was and he’d pay for it. Then he’d tell me what I wanted to know or pay an even greater price.

I veered to my right into another parking garage, an above-ground one this time. We’d already run more than a city block, not counting the time in the bank’s parking garage. I could feel my pursuer flagging. Good. Just a little longer. I had to be careful about where I chose to confront him. But soon, very soon, this would be over.

There’s something about the hunt that excites at the primal level. It doesn’t matter if you’re the hunted or the hunter. At least it doesn’t matter to me. My senses seem to sharpen as my pulse increases. My mind clears and a sort of calm settles over me. I know how good I am. I’ve managed to survive combat situations and too many chases like this one because of it. This hunter, if you dared call him that, was no match for me.

I raced up the ramp, one level and then two. My running shoes, carefully selected for just such an emergency, cushioned my steps. Only a muted slap-slap-slap with each footfall betrayed me. Even though my pulse raced, my breathing was barely labored. I was born for the hunt.

I hit the door leading to the stairwell. Time to add some distance between us. The door slammed behind me, just as I wanted. I wanted him in the stairwell. I wanted him to wonder which direction I’d gone. When he started up the stairs, he’d be even more tired. That would make him an easier target when the time came.

Three flights up, I slammed through another door. I didn’t think about anyone else who might be on the other side. This was between me and the man following me. The world had shrunk to just the two of us. There wasn’t time to worry about anyone else. Not until this was over. Until he was over.

Then I could worry about consequences.

I slowed, my eyes scanning the level. Almost every parking space was filled. The cars and vans increased the shadows on the level, making it easier to hide. And hide I was going to do. Now was the time for patience and cunning. Maybe it was even time to play with the fool a bit before pouncing. This mouse had very sharp teeth and the cat had better be battle-hardened before going after it.

He was close. I could feel it even as I heard him coming nearer. The fool. Why wear boots if you’re trying to stalk someone? Every step he took reverberated, even through the closed door. Soon, very soon, it would be over.

I crouched behind a van near the top of the ramp, hidden in the shadows. My backpack rested on the concrete beside me. Down the aisle, the stairwell door clanged shut, followed almost instantly by a sharp curse. I couldn’t help smiling. It just kept getting better.

I remained where I was, secure in the knowledge the shadows were, as always, my friend. For a moment, the only sounds were those of my heart beating and my slow, even breaths. There! A step. Then another. His pace quickened. He wasn’t running, but it was close. If I’d had any doubts about being followed, I no longer did.

Waiting, listening as he moved up the aisle, memory intruded. This was wrong. There had been at least three of them when I’d ducked into the bank building. Why had they split up? More importantly, where had the others gone? I might have little respect for Michael but he wasn’t a fool. He’d have sent a team that worked well together. So why was this team breaking all the rules?

Leaving my backpack, I edged around the rear of the van. The backpack, if the tracker found it, would delay him further. It would divert his attention and give me the chance to act. But I had to take care not to blow my chance before it arrived.

I crept behind another vehicle, this one big and black. Some sort of SUV. I really didn’t care what it was as long as it offered me protection. Now was when hunter became the hunted and the thrill of it raced through me. If only we were away from town where this could become a real hunt. It had been too long since I’d allowed my jaguar out and now it strained against my control, confident it was better at this game of cat and mouse than I.

Hell, it probably was, not that I dared do anything about it now. The trackers might be willing to risk exposing our existence, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t. There were too many others who’d suffer if the normals discovered the things of their nightmares walked among them.

Footsteps neared. Slower now, more relaxed. It was almost as if someone was taking a leisurely stroll down the aisle. Had I misjudged? Was it possible my stalker had been playing me? No, I didn’t believe that. There had to be another explanation.

I shrank further into the shadows. My heart hammered. Fear clawed at my throat. For one moment, I closed my eyes. I prayed this was all some horrible dream I’d soon awaken from. But it wasn’t. I’d learned long ago that the only nightmares are the ones we’re forced to live, day after day after day.

A car door opened just a few yards away and I started nervously. My hands flew to my mouth in a desperate attempt to silence my gasp. It wasn’t him. By all that was holy, it wasn’t him. It had been an innocent, that’s all. Whoever it was, they weren’t a part of this. All I had to do was wait for them to leave. Then I could finish this, once and for all.

If I had time. For all I knew, the hunter had heard my gasp and even now was using the sounds of the car starting and backing out of its space to distract me as he closed in on my location. Dear God, what should I do?

Patience. I had to stay patient and not move too soon. I couldn’t risk getting careless now, with the end so close.

A red sedan slowly passed my hiding space. Behind the wheel sat an attractive, gray haired woman. From where I crouched in the shadows, I could see she hadn’t locked her doors. It would be so easy to slide into the backseat as she drove past, to force her to drive me out of there and away from my pursuer. It was so tempting. . . .

No! That wasn’t the way. It was far too dangerous to involve someone else, someone outside the clan. In this day and age of lo-jack tracking on cars and global positioning software in cell phones, it wasn’t a risk I was willing to take. One phone call to the police and they’d know within minutes where the car was. I might be willing to do a lot of things but risking a police shoot out wasn’t one of them.

The car disappeared around the curve and I sank back against the wheel of the SUV. Where was he? My ears strained and my heart pounded. No matter how many times I’d been in this position – and I’d been there more times than I cared to count – it never got any easier. But this time was different. I could feel it. The hunter was alone and a one-on-one fight suited me just fine.

I wouldn’t kill him unless he forced me to. Not that I wouldn’t do whatever was necessary to find out how he’d found me. Once I knew that, I could disappear into the shadows again and move on, another town and another identity.

Again.

Leather scraped concrete and my muscles tensed. I waited, ready to pounce. All he had to do was come a little closer.

Wait. Something was wrong. This was all happening too easily. Was it possible this was all some sort of elaborate trap they’d laid to capture me?

Fear licked at my confidence and without thought I glanced down, frantically searching for that tell-tale red dot of a laser scope. Nothing. If anyone besides the two of us were there, they hadn’t tagged me, at least not yet. Maybe I was worrying for no reason.

I dropped to my stomach and looked under the cars, searching for another set of feet, for anything to prove or disprove my fears. Nothing. Only the boots and jeans of the lone tracker.

I sat back up and drew a slow, deep breath. My lips pulled back, baring my teeth and a low, primal growl fought for release as my jaguar fought for control. My muscles all but quivered in anticipation as each step brought the tracker closer, ever closer.

From where I crouched, I saw his legs first. Faded blue jeans. Black, worn boots. Interesting. That wasn’t the usual attire of the trackers but it did make sense if this one was trying to blend in. Maybe he wasn’t quite the amateur I first thought. Or maybe not. Although he moved slowly up the aisle, checking first one direction and the other as he scanned between the parked cars, his hands were visible and very empty. My well-trained eye saw no hint of a weapon anywhere on him. Good. That would make things much easier.

I slipped further into the shadows cast by the SUV and the wall behind me. All I needed was for him to take another couple of steps forward. That’s all. Then I’d be in his blind spot and could move. He’d never know what hit him. By the time he figured it out, it would be too late and they would both be well away from there and anyone who might be looking for him.

Silently, I rose from my crouch and stepped into the aisle, ready to attack. My head jerked up, the scents of the other trackers suddenly assailing me. Damn it! It had been a trap. Somehow, I’d played into their hands. But how? How had they known this was where I’d come?

My mind may have frozen, but my body acted on instinct. I turned and took first one step and then another. I had to run. It didn’t matter where. All that mattered was getting out of there. I’d made the worst mistake possible. I’d become over-confident and I’d fallen into their trap.

The screeching of tires filled the air. A moment later, a black Mustang slid to a stop beside me.

“Get in!” the driver yelled as the passenger door swung open

For a moment, hope flared. Escape was at hand.

Three sharp jabs hit my back, like needles or nails, as I dove into the car. Then my system lit up. It felt as if a thousand – no, a million – hot needles suddenly pierced me. Every nerve seemed to catch fire. No longer would my body answer my commands. Muscles tensed, spasmed and I slumped forward. There was pain – I think there was pain – as I hit the dashboard face first. Then I was thrown back against the passenger seat as the Mustang sped off.

Breathe. I had to breathe. But my lungs wouldn’t work. Panic filled me. This is what Hell must be like. A mind alive and terrified in a body that does nothing but scream in agony. Dear God, was this really the day I’d die?

***

Yesterday, I announced that I’ve put Wedding Bell Blues on sale for $0.99.  Nocturnal Origins is also still on sale for $0.99.

Wedding Bell Blues

No, I’m not getting married. I’m very happily single and enjoying that lifestyle, thank you very much. However, the title of this post refers to one of my books. This one, written under the Ellie Ferguson pen name, is a romantic suspense novel. With the upcoming holiday, which will be a very long weekend for a lot of folks, I decided to drop the price. It is now on sale for $0.99.

Wedding Bell Blues

Weddings always bring out the worst in people. Or at least that’s the way it seems to Jessica Jones as her younger sister’s wedding day approaches. It’s bad enough Jessie has to wear a bridesmaid dress that looks like it was designed by a color blind Harlequin. Then there’s the best man who is all hands and no manners. Now add in a murder and Jessie’s former lover — former because she caught him doing the horizontal tango on their kitchen table with her also-former best friend. It really is almost more than a girl should be expected to handle. . . .

Chapter One

“. . . and while the official police statement is that they are pursuing a number of leads in the recent string of burglaries, unnamed sources within the department confirm that they have very little to go on. Detective Colton Dougherty, the detective in charge of the investigation, has refused comment, referring all questions to the public affairs officer for the Dallas Police Department. . . .”

The image on the television screen across the room changed from the studio shot to the exterior of one of the local strip malls. Police cars with their light bars flashing acted like beacons in the night, drawing a number of gawkers. Uniformed officers stood nearby to prevent the onlookers from getting too close. Detectives in dark slacks and white shirts, badges hanging from shirt pockets or chains around their necks, moved in and out of one of the stores. Normally, I’d not pay much attention to such film clips, but one of the detectives was familiar – too familiar, and I started in surprise before I could control it.

“Stand still!” my mother hissed around a mouthful of pins as she desperately held onto the hem of my dress.

I barely heard her. Instead, my attention was focused on the newscast. Colton turned to face the camera, his contempt for the reporters shouting questions clear. For a moment, he stood there, his expression hard, the fingers of his right hand drumming impatiently against his thigh. Another shouted question and he took a step forward. As he did, I leaned forward a bit, forgetting that I stood precariously balanced on a three-legged stool while my mother tried to pin the hem of the dress I’d be wearing in my sister’s wedding in less than a week.

“Jessica, stand still! Do you want me to stick you?”

Mother gave the skirt a little jerk and I shook myself. The last thing I needed was for her to know I’d been watching the news story – No, the last thing I needed was for her to know I’d been watching Colton.

Then I realized what she’d said and actually considered it. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t like pain. Under most circumstances, I go out of my way to avoid it. However, it was possible that if she stuck me, I’d awaken from this nightmare and discover that pink and purple taffeta hadn’t taken over my life. That had to be worth something, didn’t it? At least it was only for another week or so. Once my sister was married, the maid of honor dress from Hell could be relegated to the back of my closet where it belonged, never to be seen again.

Problem solved.

At least until the glow of seeing her youngest daughter married dimmed and my mother once more embarked upon her campaign to get me married. That was yet another reason why I didn’t want her to know I’d been watching Colton on the TV. Still, I’d enjoyed three months of peace and I didn’t look forward to it ending. Maybe, before that happened, the gypsies would finally come steal me away. A girl can hope, can’t she?

“Sorry,” I mumbled, teetering slightly on the stool. As if looking like a harlequin wasn’t bad enough, now I had to worry about keeping my balance.

“I don’t know why you can’t just stand there like the other girls, Jessica.” As she pinned the hem of my dress, Mom’s fingers worked with the precision of a surgeon. Probably because she was one. “You’d think you weren’t happy your sister is getting married.”

“I am too happy!”

And I was, on a lot of different levels. Maryanne had been in love with Brett Boudreaux from the moment she first laid eyes on him in second grade. She’d made it her life’s mission to win him over. There had been times when she’d almost despaired of it ever happening. But my sister is both determined and resilient. Despite that, it had taken a pregnancy scare and the threat that she’d cut him out of her life and their baby’s before he finally came to his senses. Six weeks and a lot of convincing later, he asked her to marry him. Now she was getting her big wedding, and I couldn’t be happier for her.

“You’d never prove it by me, not the way you’ve done your best to avoid your duties as maid of honor.”

I rolled my eyes and said a quick prayer for patience – or at least for the wisdom to keep my mouth shut. There’s one thing you can say about Dr. Faith Marie Jones. She always knows she’s right, no matter what the truth might actually be. For some reason, she’d convinced herself I was jealous of Maryanne and nothing I’d say would change her mind. All I could do was ignore her and hope she’d change the subject.

Unfortunately, Mom wasn’t wrong about me trying to avoid my “duties”. I had, and I felt guilty about it. Work had kept me busy, and Maryanne had chosen to get married the week before finals. Still, I could have made time for the different shopping trips and girls’ nights out she’d arranged for the bridesmaids. But, in my mind at least, begging out of those things had kept the peace because it meant I hadn’t been too tempted to kill one of the other bridesmaids.

“Oh, Jessie, you look absolutely adorable in your dress,” Janie Bickerstaff drawled from the doorway as she quickly snapped three photos of me teetering on the stool. Wonderful. By the time I got home, everyone on her email list some would have copies. See, this was why I had begged out of so many of the things Maryanne had planned. Janie and I had never gotten along. I still remembered with regret that grade school field trip to Burgers Lake when I’d talked myself out of drowning her because I knew it would upset my sister. I’d have done the world a favor if I’d acted on my impulse back then. Really I would have.

A sharp prick just above my right ankle cut off my quick retort. Just as well. This was Maryanne’s day and I wouldn’t spoil it by killing Janie where she stood in the doorway smirking at me. Besides, my mother would never forgive me for staining her new carpet.

However, there are other ways of dealing with persistent pests besides mashing them underfoot.

“I can’t wait to see you coming down the aisle, Janie. The pink and purple will look wonderful with your hair.” Her fire-engine-red hair straight from the bottle. She paled, gulped once and dashed back into the kitchen. Mom chuckled softly and shook her head. That pinprick might have kept me from giving Janie a verbal lobotomy, but the truth of the matter was Mom had no more use for her than did I.

“Mama, are you about through?” Maryanne called from the kitchen.

“In a minute, dear. I’m just finishing up your sister’s dress.”

For a moment, relief filled me. Janie and the other bridesmaids were going to do some last minute shopping and then go out for drinks and, maybe, dinner. That meant I could slip out and escape the crazy ladies before they moved from wedding talk to dissecting my love life – or lack thereof.

“Jessie.” Maryanne’s pretty face appeared around the door frame and my heart sank. Before they left, she wanted us all to have a drink together to toast the upcoming wedding. “What do you want to drink?” She looked so excited. I couldn’t leave, not yet. I was her big sister and her maid of honor. I’d spent my life being there for her. I couldn’t leave her now simply because wedding preparations scared the hell out of me. Besides, it was just a drink. How bad could it be?

“Iced tea, Tink.” I grinned as she glared at me. “I still have papers to grade.”

“Jessica, don’t call me that!”

“Sorry.” I winked and she grinned even as our mother gave my skirt a tug, reminding me to behave. Maryanne had been “Tink” or “Tinkerbell” since she’d been a baby.

“Jessie, you don’t hate the dress, do you?” Maryanne’s blue eyes were worried as she hurried to stand before me. Damn that Janie Bickerstaff. I’d lay odds she’d said something like that to Maryanne just to upset her.

“Of course not. You know all I care about is you being happy.” I meant it, too. She’d waited a long time for this day – well for a week from today – and I wasn’t about to ruin it by telling her she’d taken leave of her fashion sense. “Besides, your dress is so gorgeous no one is going to be looking at anyone else.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

Her smile seemed to light up the room and, ignoring our mother’s protests, I leaned down to give Maryanne a hug. “Now go make sure the others aren’t making too big of a mess in the kitchen. Or worse, getting into the wine you picked out for your dinner with Brett’s family tomorrow.”

Maryanne gave a soft squeak of concern and hurried back into the kitchen, the robe she’d put on after her own fitting fluttering behind her. Mom’s chuckle surprised me as did her look of approval when I glanced down. She placed one last pin in the hem and helped me off the stool. A moment later, she carefully eased the dress over my head and stepped back, spreading it across the back of the sofa until she could hang it up.

“Go keep those girls from destroying my kitchen, Jessie. You know what they can be like,” she commented as I slipped into jeans and tee shirt. “I’ll be along shortly.”

I breathed deeply and steeled myself for a return to the foolishness I’d hoped I’d left behind when I graduated from high school and did as she asked. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.

Yeah, sure it wouldn’t. It would be about as much fun as a root canal without Novocain.

Needless to say, I was wrong. A root canal without Novocain would have been so much more fun than the gossip-fest I sat through. Oh, the gossip wasn’t that bad, even though there is no more vicious animal on the face of the Earth than a bunch of women with time on their hands and other people’s business to discuss. At least as long as I was there, they didn’t try – too hard – to dissect everything they believed was wrong with my life. Of course, the fact most of them remembered how, at different times, I’d threatened to pound them into dust for being empty-headed little idiots might account for that.

So, for another hour I sat through wedding plans, honeymoon speculations and none-too-subtle hints about what married life and married sex would be like. Most was all good-natured fun. But some, mainly from Janie, who’d once gone after Brett herself, was more than a bit snide. Only Mom’s warning glances – and a sharp kick to my shin under the table – kept me from saying anything. At least Maryanne seemed oblivious to her friend’s intent. Still, if Janie kept it up, I’d be forced to say something. There was no way I would let her, or anyone, spoil Maryanne’s happiness.

Finally I was freed from the insanity when Maryanne and the other bridesmaids left to go shopping, never one of my favorite pastimes. Not that I didn’t feel a bit guilty for choosing not to go, but I really did have a stack of papers to grade. With peace once more filling the house, I helped Mom load the dishwasher before heading home.

“You were really good with your sister today, Jessie.”

“Huh?” I know. I’m a brilliant conversationalist.

“Janie,” she said simply.

“Mom, we both know that little bitch would like nothing more than to cause trouble. I won’t give her the satisfaction.” However, once the wedding was over, I planned to have a little chat with Ms. Bickerstaff about exactly what might happen if she tried any of her little tricks where Maryanne and Brett were concerned. I’d seen her destroy too many other relationships to sit still and let her have a go at Brett and Maryanne.

Bitch.

“So, Jessie, when are you going to quit waiting for Mr. Perfect?”

If I hadn’t just swallowed the last of my iced tea, I’d have sprayed it across the kitchen. Talk about being blind-sided. Now Mom watched me, a shrewd look in her light blue eyes. Crap. I’d expected the peace to last at least a couple of weeks after the wedding.

“Mom – “

“Jessie, it’s just that I worry about you.” She turned to face me, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “You haven’t been serious about anyone since Colton Dougherty, and that’s been, what, nine years?” Crap! Had she seen him on TV too? That would certainly explain this sudden change of topic.

Ten years, three months and twelve days. But who’s counting? Not me. No, siree. He wasn’t worth it.

“Mom, you don’t have to worry. Really. One day, the right guy will come along and then I’ll marry and give you a ton of grandkids to spoil.” I smiled, praying she’d take the hint and drop it.

“Jessica, you’re thirty-three. It’s time you quit waiting for Prince Charming. He doesn’t exist.” She cocked her head to one side, examining me as she might a patient just before opening him up on the operating table. “Unless you don’t like guys….”

For a moment, I stared at her, torn between the desire to laugh and the more perverse desire to confirm her greatest fear that her daughter might be gay. It was so ludicrous. All she had to do was look at the evidence and she’d see just how ridiculous it was. While I might not have had any serious these last ten years, I’d certainly enjoyed my fair share of men, and I do mean enjoy.

Part of me wanted to say, “Yes, Mom, I’m gay,” just to see her reaction. But I’m not into matricide, no matter how much she gets on my nerves. And there was no question how she’d react to such an announcement. She’d drop dead from shock and then, with my luck, she’d come back to haunt me, making it the goal of her unnatural life to find me a nice man to spend the rest of my so-called natural life with.

“Mama, I love you and I know you’re worried. But you don’t have to be. I promise I’m not gay. I like guys just fine. I simply haven’t found one I want to spend the rest of my life with.” I reached over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Now, I really do need to get home and get those papers graded. See you tomorrow for mass.”

“All right.” She smiled and, to my surprise, gave me a quick hug. “Will you stop by Manny’s on your way home and pick up the order for Thursday’s dinner? It should be ready.”

I’d forgotten about dinner Thursday. Dinner with both families and Brett’s best man, his college roommate. The frat boy I’d have to walk down the aisle with after the wedding and who was, according to my sister, a self-described lady’s man. Wonderful. Oh well, if I could put up with the bridesmaid dress from Hell, I could handle one overgrown boy for an evening.

“Of course.”

Ten minutes later, I sped away from my parents’ house, thinking of little except how much I wanted a nice bottle of wine. Better yet, a bottle of really good single malt. I deserved it after resisting the impulse to strangle Maryanne with her veil for making me wear that monstrosity of a dress. Not to mention wanting to lock Mom in the basement, never to be heard from until she gave up on the notion of trying to manage my life. And I didn’t even want to think about what I’d like to do with the oh-so-perfect Janie Bickerstaff.

Of course, the main reason Janie was being such a bitch, besides that being her natural state, was that she was supremely pissed Maryanne had the audacity to have a sister. Worse, that sister was me and Maryanne had asked me to be her maid of honor. I really should have drowned Janie when I’d had the chance. No one would have minded. After all, it would have strengthened the gene pool, and several marriages would have been saved.

The neon sign over Manny’s Fine Wine and Spirits called to me like a beacon as I pulled off the freeway. Seemingly on its own, my battered Mustang turned into the parking lot. Not that I objected. Manny’s is on the way home and it’s cheap. Besides, I intended to treat myself this once.

Or, better yet, I might just let him put the bottle on my parents’ account.

I parked the Mustang near the door and got out. Looking around, I frowned slightly. Usually by this late on a Saturday, the parking lot is full to overflowing. But not today. Besides my Mustang, there were only four other cars visible.

My frown deepened. The red “CLOSED” sign hung from the top of the door. That most definitely wasn’t right. Was possible the insanity of the fitting had carried over for a full day and it was now Sunday? It could have driven me into a short catatonic state. No. A quick check of my watch confirmed not only that it was almost five thirty but also that it was still Saturday. So why wasn’t Manny open?

I ignored the warning bells going off in my head – heck, they’d been going full force during the fitting as Maryanne’s friends became more and more excited over our harlequin dresses. Somehow, the insanity of the wedding plans had either rendered them colorblind or fashion-sense deprived or both. This was just the residual warning. Besides, it was possible Manny had simply forgotten to flip the sign when he opened up this afternoon.

The door swung open under my touch. The bell hanging from the top of the door jangled loudly. I paused. Why hadn’t Manny or one of his sons called out a greeting?

“Manny?” The bell jangled again as the door closed behind me.

Sound exploded. I smelled cordite. Shit. Someone had just shot a gun. At me. I dove for cover, hitting my elbow on the corner of a display shelf. What the hell?

Glass shattered and I slid on my belly farther down the aisle, looking for cover. Why was someone shooting at me?

It’s a dream. That’s it. I’ll wake up soon and none of this will have happened. No harlequin dress, no one shooting at me.

Another shot rang out and I did my best infantryman-crawling-through-the-trenches impression as I slithered even farther from the door. Part of me wanted to close my eyes and make-believe I wasn’t there. No, when someone’s shooting at you, closing your eyes tends to have a very permanent result, and I’d be damned if I didn’t look the bastard in the eyes before he killed me.

Footsteps raced toward the front of the store. At least I thought they did. Of course, the way my heart pounded made it hard to tell. I hunkered down behind a stack of boxes. Surely at any moment, I’d hear the bell at the front door. The fact my ears were still ringing from the gunshots wouldn’t prevent that, would it?

I climbed to my knees. One corner of my mind registered that I was hiding behind boxes of my favorite single malt. Well, at least I wouldn’t have far to go to pick up a bottle. Hell, at this point, I might just make it a case.

Lungs straining for air, I forced myself to take a quick look. . . . .

Great, just great. Bad enough I have to put up with the bridesmaid dress from Hell, now the Devil himself has decided to pay me a visit.

I backpedaled in fear as a red-faced monster stared back at me.

I didn’t move fast enough. The devil cursed and lashed out.

There was pain. Of course there was pain. The devil’s not the sort to ask you to tea or speak nicely.

Everything went dark.

Update and a few thoughts

It’s done and with many thanks to Sarah A. Hoyt for the cover design. Now that I have it in hand, I’ll finish up the edits and get Rebellion up for pre-order Monday or Tuesday of next week. Pre-order will be for a shorter period than I usually do and those who pre-order will get a discount on pricing. I’ll announce when I set it up.

I love this book. It was harder to write in a number of ways than the other books. Not because it basically ends the current story arc, although that was part of it, but because of what I put some of the characters through. No one gets through this book unscathed in one way or another. But let’s be honest, you can’t go through life without taking a few knocks or stumbling some here and there.

I also started the real work of pulling together the special edition of Vengeance from Ashes yesterday. The storyline for the book and the series remains the same. The special editions will simply add material — a scene or chapter here and there. Think of it as the director’s cut of a movie. It’s fun not only because I’ve learned a great deal as I’ve written these books but because I get to go back in and add some material that will bring more depth not only to the characters but to the overall plot.

I’m also starting the real work of turning the very rough draft of Victory from Ashes (still not sure about that title) into something publishable. I have the cover for that book, sans tagline, in hand but I want to talk with Sarah about tweaking a part of it before the book comes out. As with Rebellion, Victory will wrap up at least a major part of the current story arc for the Honor and Duty Series. Also like Rebellion, it won’t mean the end of the series or characters, at least not all the characters. You never know who will die in a war and that is what Ashlyn and company face now. In order to keep the series interesting to me and to you, it is time to move on to the next phase of the story and see what happens next.

Now I’m off to find more coffee and hopefully wake up enough to get to work. Remember that Nocturnal Origins, the first book in the Nocturnal Lives series is currently on sale for $0.99.

Some things can never be forgotten, no matter how hard you try.

Detective Sergeant Mackenzie Santos knows that bitter lesson all too well. The day she died changed her life and her perception of the world forever.It doesn’t matter that everyone, even her doctors, believe a miracle occurred when she awoke in the hospital morgue. Mac knows better. It hadn’t been a miracle, at least not a holy one. As far as she’s concerned, that’s the day the dogs of Hell came for her.

Investigating one of the most horrendous murders in recent Dallas history, Mac also has to break in a new partner and deal with nosy reporters who follow her every move and who publish confidential details of the investigation without a qualm.

Complicating matters even more, Mac learns the truth about her family and herself, a truth that forces her to deal with the monster within, as well as those on the outside.But none of this matters as much as discovering the identity of the murderer before he can kill again.

 

Saturday Morning Reading Recommendations

I’m going to start off with a bit of self-promo. Nocturnal Origins, the first book in the Nocturnal Lives series, is on sale for $0.99. I’ve dropped the price in anticipation of the upcoming release of Nocturnal Challenge.

Some things can never be forgotten, no matter how hard you try.

Detective Sergeant Mackenzie Santos knows that bitter lesson all too well. The day she died changed her life and her perception of the world forever.It doesn’t matter that everyone, even her doctors, believe a miracle occurred when she awoke in the hospital morgue. Mac knows better. It hadn’t been a miracle, at least not a holy one. As far as she’s concerned, that’s the day the dogs of Hell came for her.

Investigating one of the most horrendous murders in recent Dallas history, Mac also has to break in a new partner and deal with nosy reporters who follow her every move and who publish confidential details of the investigation without a qualm.

Complicating matters even more, Mac learns the truth about her family and herself, a truth that forces her to deal with the monster within, as well as those on the outside.But none of this matters as much as discovering the identity of the murderer before he can kill again.

The Chaplain’s War

by Brad Torgersen

The mantis cyborgs: insectlike, cruel, and determined to wipe humanity from the face of the galaxy.

The Fleet is humanity’s last chance: a multi-world, multi-national task force assembled to hold the line against the aliens’ overwhelming technology and firepower. Enter Harrison Barlow, who like so many young men of wars past, simply wants to serve his people and partake of the grand adventure of military life. Only, Harrison is not a hot pilot, nor a crack shot with a rifle. What good is a Chaplain’s Assistant in the interstellar battles which will decide the fate of all?

More than he thinks. Because while the mantis insectoids are determined to eliminate the human threat to mantis supremacy, they remember the errors of their past. Is there the slightest chance that humans might have value? Especially since humans seem to have the one thing the mantes explicitly do not: an innate ability to believe in what cannot be proven nor seen God. Captured and stranded behind enemy lines, Barlow must come to grips with the fact that he is not only bargaining for his own life, but the lives of everyone he knows and loves. And so he embarks upon an improbable gambit, determined to alter the course of the entire war.

April

by Mackey Chandler

April is an exceptional young lady and something of a snoop. After a chance encounter with a spy, she finds herself involved with political intrigues that stretch her abilities. There is a terrible danger she, and her friends and family, will lose the only home she has ever known, and be forced to live on the slum ball Earth below. It’s more than an almost fourteen year old should have to deal with. Fortunately she has a lot of smart friends and allies. It’s a good things because things get very rough and dicey. They challenge the political status quo, and with a small population the only advantage they have in war is a thin technological edge.

A few Friday thoughts

I’m busy trying to finalize the edits on Nocturnal Rebellion. This book has been interesting, often in the proverbial way, during its creation. Between the hot water heater deciding to go out, the house flooding after too much rain and the storm door exploding — and we still haven’t figured out what caused that to happen, nor have we replaced the door yet — the editing process has taken longer than usual. However, I’m hoping that the light I see is the one at the end of the tunnel and not a light marking a cross-tunnel.

In preparation for Rebellion’s release, I have discounted Nocturnal Origins, the first book in the series to $0.99. This is a limited time discount and it will go back to full price after Rebellion hits the shelves. Hopefully, it won’t take Amazon too long to show the sale price.

Edit: I just checked Amazon and the price has now been dropped.

I have loved writing this series. When I started it, I never thought it would turn into a series but the characters demanded it. Even though Rebellion ties up one major plot line, there is more out there and I’m looking forward to seeing where Mackenzie and company go from here.

I’m taking the weekend off from serious blogging — unless something happens that I feel needs to be addressed. I’d like to get as much of Rebellion’s edits finished as possible. Tomorrow, I’ll continue the reading recommendations. I’ve really enjoyed taking weekends this past month or so and just reading. I can almost see the bottom of at least one of my many TBR lists.

I will make one recommendation today. This book is one that was recommended to me by my mother’s pastor. I will admit, any book on theology that starts by saying there are only three topics worth discussing — sex, politics and religion — is going to pique my curiosity. I haven’t read much yet, but so far it is interesting and certainly not what I expected. (Here’s a hint: I was raised Episcopal in a “high” church. Mom is Presbyterian. Biiiiiig difference in a lot of ways and not so much in others, as I’m learning.) Anyway, here’s the book:

Christian Doctrine – Revised Edition

by Shirley C. Guthrie, Jr.

Christian Doctrine has introduced thousands of laity, students, and theologians to the tenets of the Christian faith. This edition reflects changes in the church and society since the publication of the first edition and takes into account new works in Reformed theology, gender references in the Bible, racism, pluralism, ecological developments, and liberation theologies.

Now I’m off to find more coffee. I probably ought to drag the trash out for pick up. Then it’s another day of edits.

Until Later!

 

Friday thoughts and reading recommendations

Just a quick post today. I’m doing my best to stay away from politics — my blood pressure thanks me as does the mush of what calls itself my brain. Why is it that the first few days after finishing a book are lost when it comes to accomplishing much more than getting out of bed and vegging for the rest of the day?

Monday, I start the final review of Nocturnal Challenge and then it is off to the beta readers. Yay! Of course, Myrtle the Muse is already hitting me with more stories, including more detail about what the next Nocturnal Lives book will be. I’m going to try to make a few notes today so I don’t lose the thread. That’s important since this next book will tie up the final threads of the current story arc. Myrtle, being the evil muse that she is, has also given me the threads for the next arc for the series.

I’ve spent the last two days doing things that needed to be done — cleaning my office. It’s amazing how much stuff I accumulate while writing a book. Everything from slips of paper with notes on them to research materials to who knows what. I’ve also been reading. That’s always my reward for finishing one novel. Before moving on to the next, I get to hit my very large TBR stack. I’ll post some reviews over the next few days.

In the meantime, Next up are a short story (possibly a novella) in the Eerie Side of the Creek universe as well as the next Honor and Duty novel. It looks like I will be working on them at the same time — we’ll see how that works. But both are being very loud right now.

In the meantime, here are a few good books to try if you haven’t already. Oh, there may be one or two of mine in the list as well.  😉

Dipped, Stripped & Dead

by Elise Hyatt

A Dyce Dare Mystery

When she was six, Dyce Dare wanted to be a ballerina, but she couldn’t stop tripping over her own feet. Then she wanted to be a lion tamer, but Fluffy, the cat, would not obey her. Which is why at the age of twenty nine she’s dumpster diving, kind of. She’s looking for furniture to keep her refinishing business going, because she would someday like to feed herself and her young son something better than pancakes.

Unfortunately, as has come to be her expectation, things go disastrously wrong. She finds a half melted corpse in a dumpster. This will force her to do what she never wanted to do: solve a crime.

Life is just about to get crazy… er… crazier. But at least at the end of the tunnel there might be a relationship with a very nice Police Officer.

Tom

by Dave Freer

Tom is a cat in trouble. The worst possible kind of trouble: he’s been turned into a human. Transformed by an irascible old magician in need of a famulus — a servant and an assistant, Tom is as good at being a servant as a cat ever is. The assistant part is more to Tom’s taste: he rather fancies impressing the girl cats and terrorizing the other toms by transforming himself into a tiger. But the world of magic, a vanished and cursed princess, and a haunted skull, and a demon in the chamber-pot, to say nothing of conspiring wizards and the wickedest witch in the west, all seem to be out to kill Tom. He is a cat coming to terms with being a boy, dealing with all this.

He has a raven and a cheese as… sort of allies.

And of course there is the princess.

If you were looking for ‘War and Peace’ this is the wrong book for you. It’s a light-hearted and gently satirical fantasy, full of terrible puns and… cats.

The Chaplain’s War

by Brad Torgersen

The mantis cyborgs: insectlike, cruel, and determined to wipe humanity from the face of the galaxy.

The Fleet is humanity’s last chance: a multi-world, multi-national task force assembled to hold the line against the aliens’ overwhelming technology and firepower. Enter Harrison Barlow, who like so many young men of wars past, simply wants to serve his people and partake of the grand adventure of military life. Only, Harrison is not a hot pilot, nor a crack shot with a rifle. What good is a Chaplain’s Assistant in the interstellar battles which will decide the fate of all?

More than he thinks. Because while the mantis insectoids are determined to eliminate the human threat to mantis supremacy, they remember the errors of their past. Is there the slightest chance that humans might have value? Especially since humans seem to have the one thing the mantes explicitly do not: an innate ability to believe in what cannot be proven nor seen God. Captured and stranded behind enemy lines, Barlow must come to grips with the fact that he is not only bargaining for his own life, but the lives of everyone he knows and loves. And so he embarks upon an improbable gambit, determined to alter the course of the entire war.

Nocturnal Origins

by Amanda S. Green

Some things can never be forgotten, no matter how hard you try.

Detective Sergeant Mackenzie Santos knows that bitter lesson all too well. The day she died changed her life and her perception of the world forever.It doesn’t matter that everyone, even her doctors, believe a miracle occurred when she awoke in the hospital morgue. Mac knows better. It hadn’t been a miracle, at least not a holy one. As far as she’s concerned, that’s the day the dogs of Hell came for her.

Investigating one of the most horrendous murders in recent Dallas history, Mac also has to break in a new partner and deal with nosy reporters who follow her every move and who publish confidential details of the investigation without a qualm.

Complicating matters even more, Mac learns the truth about her family and herself, a truth that forces her to deal with the monster within, as well as those on the outside.But none of this matters as much as discovering the identity of the murderer before he can kill again.

Vengeance from Ashes

by Sam Schall

First, they took away her command. Then they took away her freedom. But they couldn’t take away her duty and honor. Now they want her back.

Captain Ashlyn Shaw has survived two years in a brutal military prison. Now those who betrayed her are offering the chance for freedom. All she has to do is trust them not to betray her and her people again. If she can do that, and if she can survive the war that looms on the horizon, she can reclaim her life and get the vengeance she’s dreamed of for so long.

But only if she can forget the betrayal and do her duty.

Weekend Reading

Yesterday, I listed some of my favorite military non-fiction books. I will admit that I have yet to find an indie military non-fiction book that I like as much. Fortunately for all of us who love mil-sf and space opera, the indie book movement has given us so many more entries into the mil-sf and space opera sub-genres that it is hard to keep up. I love it! So, here are a few of my favorites as well as links to two of my own titles.

The Empire’s Corps

by Christopher Nuttall

You Should Never Speak Truth To Power…

The Galactic Empire is dying and chaos and anarchy are breaking out everywhere. After a disastrous mission against terrorists on Earth itself, Captain Edward Stalker of the Terran Marine Corps makes the mistake of speaking truth to power, telling one of the most powerful men in the Empire a few home truths. As a result, Captain Stalker and his men are unceremoniously exiled to Avalon, a world right on the Rim of the Empire. It should have been an easy posting…

Well, apart from the bandits infesting the countryside, an insurgency that threatens to topple the Empire’s loose control over Avalon, and a corrupt civil government more interested in what it can extort from the population than fighting a war. The Marines rapidly find themselves caught up in a whirlwind of political and economic chaos, fighting to preserve Avalon before the competing factions tear the world apart. They’re Marines; if anyone can do it, they can.

The battle to save the Empire starts here.

Decisively Engaged

by C. J. Carella

They picked a fight with the wrong species.

A NATION AT WAR: The United Stars of America. Born in the conflagration of unprovoked alien attack, the newest entrant to galactic politics took the few crumbs of hypertech gifted to it and ran with them, soon expanding over dozens of star systems and establishing a wide trade network, protected by its powerful Navy and the dreaded Warp Marines.

A FIGHT TO THE DEATH: A single Marine platoon, tasked with protecting an embassy on a hostile alien planet. An embassy – and the human enclave around it – that soon finds itself surrounded by armed mobs. Can the Marines and a ragtag band of civilian and Navy personnel survive long enough to be rescued?

Wraithkin

by Jason Cordova and Chris Kennedy

How far would a man go to protect those he loved? For Gabriel Espinoza, the answer was simple: to the ends of the universe.

When a failed genetic test ruins his life, Gabriel and his fiancée prepare to run to a world where the laws aren’t as strict. There they could remain, in peace, for the remainder of their days, their love unspoiled by the strict regime which controls the Dominion of Man.

But Fate is a cruel, fickle mistress.

Torn from the only woman he had ever loved, Gabriel is prepared to burn the galaxy to get her back.

How far would a man go to protect the empire he was sworn to uphold? For Andrew Espinoza, the answer was a bit more complicated.

Torn between family loyalty and his duty to his country, Andrew must infiltrate a rich and powerful clan to determine if they are plotting against the Dominion of Man, but while undercover he discovers something far darker and more dangerous is lurking in the shadows, and he is the only man who can stop it.

But Fate is a cruel, fickle mistress.

How far will Andrew go to ensure the success of his mission?

One brother must save himself; the other must save the universe. But can either survive long enough to achieve their goal?

Vengeance from Ashes

by Sam Schall

First, they took away her command. Then they took away her freedom. But they couldn’t take away her duty and honor. Now they want her back.

Captain Ashlyn Shaw has survived two years in a brutal military prison. Now those who betrayed her are offering the chance for freedom. All she has to do is trust them not to betray her and her people again. If she can do that, and if she can survive the war that looms on the horizon, she can reclaim her life and get the vengeance she’s dreamed of for so long.

But only if she can forget the betrayal and do her duty.

Each of these books are the first in their series. Enjoy!

 

Hump Day!

Before we get started, I want to thank everyone who bought Battle Wounds on its launch day yesterday. I have a favor to ask of all of you. Once you’ve had a chance to read it, please leave a review on Amazon. Those reviews help more than you realize, not only by giving authors feedback but by letting others know what others readers thought about the story.

I have a guest blog up at According to Hoyt this morning.  Go take a look when you have a chance and leave a comment.

Yesterday was a non-writing day for me. I had some things to do around the house and I needed a day to switch mental gears from the Honor and Duty universe back to the Dallas of Nocturnal Lives. Starting today, I’m back into that world and should have Nocturnal Rebellion finished in a couple of weeks, max. Projected publication date is June 2oth. That date is not set in stone yet. I’ll have a more concrete date next week.

Next up will be Victory from Ashes (working title and more than likely changing before publication). Then the next Eerie Side of the Tracks novel. In between will be a couple more short stories/novellas. Yes, it’s a busy schedule but workable, knock on wood.

Anyway, it’s time for me to go find another cup of coffee. In the meantime, if you missed the announcement yesterday about Battle Wounds, here it is.

Battle Wounds is the third short story set in the Honor and Duty universe. The stories all take place before the events of the first book, Vengeance from Ashes. The short stories came about because some of you wanted to know what happened to make Ashlyn Shaw into the women we meet in Vengeance. They’ve been fun to write and there is at least one more planned. It will probably come out around the time the next book in the series does because, well, that’s what Myrtle the Evil Muse has decided and I learned long ago that it is easier to give in to her than to try to fight.

Here’s the blurb:

Captain Ashlyn Shaw has faced the realities of war. Death is her constant companion, an unwelcome one. After losing four of her company in an ambush that never should have happened, she is asked to accept a special mission. Command suspects a traitor has infiltrated their ranks and they want Ash and others to act as bait in an attempt to draw them out.

Worse, at least as far as Ash is concerned, FleetCom is focusing on only one possible explanation for the ambush. That narrow view could lead to even more deaths before those responsible for betraying Fuercon are identified. All Ashlyn can do is keep her eyes and ears open and pray the Marines onboard the Dresden are as dedicated to keeping Fuercon safe as are the Devil Dogs.

And God help the traitor should Ashlyn discover their identity. No one betrays home and Corps and gets away with it.

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