Thursday, October 24, 2013

Virtual Book Tour: Twilight Over Moldavia

Please welcome acclaimed historical romance author Stephanie Burkhart, who is here to discuss her release, Twilight Over Moldavia. Stephanie will be awarding a coffee & chocolate bag: a coffee mug, a Starbucks gift card, Andes chocolates, magnets, and a Lori Powell original book bag (US only) to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. The more often you comment the better your chances of winning. To find the other stops in the tour, go here.


Twilight Over Moldavia
by Stephanie Burkhart

~~~~~~~~~~~~~



BLURB:

Romanian unification is on the horizon and the spirited Crown Princess of Carpathia, Caroline, would prefer to ride horses and archery to embroidery and dancing. Complicating her life is her recent discovery that she's a witch.

Prince Stefan Sigmaringen travels to Carpathia to meet Caroline. He discovers he has much in common with her. He also learns that a strange man, Timon, has an unnatural interest in him.

Upon Stefan's engagement, he overhears his mother confessing to a horrible secret – she cursed him in order to conceive him and Stefan will become a werewolf when he turns eighteen. There is a condition to overcome the curse, but it will require Stefan to draw on all his inner strength and Caroline, her courage. Can they break the foul enchantment and secure their future or will Stefan give himself over to the lupine curse that haunts his family?


~~~~~~~~~~~~~

EXCERPTS :


Caroline spun in the direction of the noise, effortlessly drawing an arrow and hitching it to her bow. A horse neighed, and bushes about fifty meters ahead of her rustled.

Someone was there, watching. But who? A blast of adrenaline rocketed through her. She wasn't about to let her guard down. It wasn't wise of her to be looking for Edwina's scarf with the Sigmaringens due to arrive today, but she believed in following her heart. She prayed on this occasion she hadn't been reckless. Spying a hint of color among the leaves, she let the arrow fly, determined to protect her ladies.

"Ow!" A man's deep voice shouted.

Caroline grimaced. She hoped she hadn't hurt anyone. Her arrow had merely been intended to scare away whoever was watching, not to harm them. Racing forward, she parted the bushes and came upon two young men around her age, both in riding clothes.

Caroline's gaze fell upon the young man on the horse. Their eyes locked. Her cheeks warmed, and some indefinable spark passed between them that heated her body. Oh, she had noticed several handsome guards under her father's command, but this man was different. His malachite eyes spoke of duty, the same sense of duty she harbored, yet hinted at a desire for mischief. His cheekbones were sharp, giving him an almost lupine appearance. He had an air of authority about him, a commanding presence that demanded respect.

His square jaw tensed visibly, and her gaze drifted down his leg. Her arrow had ripped his riding pants and blood trickled from a small flesh wound.

Concern flooded through her. She dropped her bow, pulled her scarf from around her neck, and rushed forward.

"I'm so sorry." The words gushed out as clumsily as she moved. "I didn't mean to harm you."

His mouth spread into a thin-lipped smile. Was he displeased? She couldn't blame him. Still, he said nothing. Caroline placed a hand on his thigh, and a rip current of energy shot up her arm. The space around him glowed brightly, and deep, unspoken desire flamed inside her.

Mine.

She shook off the sudden, possessive thought and wrapped the scarf around his leg. The blood stained it, but she applied pressure with her hand and the bleeding stopped. Her heart beat a wild tattoo. His leg was well muscled, exuding power. When she looked back up at him, she couldn't deny that he was a handsome man with a beautifully proportioned body that heated her body with desire from their shared touch. She felt alive in a way she couldn't explain. But what man could ever desire the outdoorsy Crown Princess of Carpathia?

"What's your name?" he asked in a rich, deep voice.

.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~



AUTHOR Bio and Links:


Author Bio: Stephanie Burkhart is a 911 dispatcher for LAPD.  She was born and raised in Manchester, New Hampshire.  She served 11 years in the US Army and currently calls Castaic, California her home. Stephanie was married in Denmark in 1991 and has two young sons. She adores chocolate and is addicted to coffee.  She writes paranormal, contemporary, and steampunk romance and has two children's books published with 4RV Publishing.

FIND ME ON THE WEB AT:

WEBSITE:
http://www.stephanieburkhart.com

TWITTER:
http://twitter.com/StephBurkhart

FACEBOOK:
https://www.facebook.com/StephanieBurkhartAuthor

GOOD READS:
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4031660.Stephanie_Burkhart

YOU TUBE CHANNEL:
http://www.youtube.com/user/botrina?feature=mhee

PINTEREST:
http://pinterest.com/sgburkhart/

BUY LINK:









Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Wednesday Briefs: Trapped in Time II: #1

Happy Wednesday once again, and welcome to another edition of the Wednesday Briefs! This week's the prompts are: "Who the fuck made you emperor?" or use a tootsie roll pop or use the evil eye or "My Aunt Fanny has bigger boobs than you do!" or "You win some, you lose some..." or use a pirate, a gentleman, and a sheep or make a reference to any REM song or "She/he asked you to do what?" or "The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind" or "Two plus two equals what?"

As you'll recall, last week I ended No Way Out, at least as far as posting it here. This week I'm starting something new. Well, sorta new. It's the sequel to Trapped in Time. For right now, let's call it Trapped in Time II. Don't forget to check out the other Briefers, whose links follow my tale. Enjoy!

Trapped in Time II: #1


 The sun beat down upon us like a hammer upon an anvil—relentless and fierce.  This heat is different than that of the jungle. Far less humid and much dustier. The dust flies about us whenever the wind rises, choking us, making conversation optional. It is a good thing that we have water, hopefully enough to reach the next watering hole, and after that civilization, such as it is.

My head is numb, although not because of the heat, but because of what has occurred. Prior to this, we were all trapped in time in a prehistoric jungle, amidst dinosaurs and other fabulous creatures never before seen by man. Then Myron used his magic to pull us forward in time, to bring us home,  but something went very wrong, and things did not work out as intended. We ended up in the wrong time and place—and  now my Vittorio is missing. So is Kitty. And my pennyfarthing. Much as I miss them, it is Vittorio my heart aches for, a pain that pierces my very soul and leaves my nights sleepless.

Let me try to make some sense of this. Perhaps by ordering my thoughts, I will gain some relief from my sorrow, although I doubt that is so.

Vati, Myron, Charlie, Mary and I are somewhere in the time period that I have heard referred to as the Old West. Except it is not so old now. But it is very dirty.  Big open spaces, as far as the eye can see. Tumbleweeds and heat. Except at night, when the temperature drops.

We were lucky. After we’d first arrived, we spotted a group of travelers in a wagon train. They were very kind and gave us what they could spare in the way of food and water, and clean clothes.  Even a horse, to carry our provisions. We probably presented quite the sight to them. Especially Mary. None of them had ever seen a monkey before,. Luckily, Mary was on her best behavior and didn’t frighten them.

They said they were on their way to California, the land of milk and honey. They told us where we are, too. Apparently this is the Arizona territory. And the year is 1881.

Perhaps I would be more interested in this living, breathing history lesson, were I not so worried about Vittorio. At first, I assumed he was somewhere close by, and I ran about in aimless circles, searching for him, screaming his name, until Vati made me stop.

I think it has been about a week now since we first arrived in this place, I cannot be sure. I find it hard to worry about the passage of time, or much of anything else. Sometimes I worry that I am losing my religion, as well as my reason for existence. Vittorio was my everything. Is my everything. Wherever he is.

I trail behind the others. Vati leads us, naturally. Myron and Charlie walk behind him. They alternate between carrying Mary and letting her scamper on her own, close beside them. Sometimes she sits atop the horse, whom we have named Frederick. Charlie is in charge of him. He seems to have an affinity for him, and the horse shows his affection with nuzzles along Charlie’s cheek.

I am not anti-social, I simply wish to be left alone with my thoughts. The closeness which had recently sprung up between myself and Myron has turned cold. I just cannot speak to him right now, and yes I cannot help but blame him for what has occurred. Charlie maintains a buffer between us, but Myron keeps his distance, and I am happy to leave it that way. Vati tried to talk to me about it at first, but even he has given up. But whenever we make camp, he is there beside me, and his silent strength is my only comfort.

Lost in my thoughts, I look up to find Charlie approaching. “Rolf says we will stop here,” he tells me. I glance around. This is as good a place as any, I suppose. There are a few trees; they’ll afford us a bit of shelter.  We can make a fire so I can cook. I don’t eat much myself, but I still feed the others.

“Doll...” Charlie lays a hand upon my shoulder. When I don’t look up immediately, he clears his throat until at last I meet his eyes. “We will find him. Do not worry, please.”

I nod, afraid to trust my voice

“Myron is sorry, Doll, very sorry...”

I know that too, but I cannot concede the point. Not yet.  I stubbornly drop my gaze to the ground. He gives me a hug and leaves me alone.

Already I feel the warmth of the sun begin to recede and I shiver, both from the cold and the idea of spending another night without Vittorio. It has occurred to me that he might be in another time entirely, and in that case he maybe lost to me forever. I close my eyes against the hot tears that threaten to fall. Vittorio would hate to see me cry. He’d tell me to be brave, to never give up hope. He would not fall apart like this. I am weaker than he is, I am afraid, more...

What’s that? I hear the rhythmic thumping of hoof beats. It cannot be Frederick; Charlie has him, and is taking care of him. No, this is coming toward us. For a moment my heart thumps loudly as I imagine my Vittorio has found me, he’s racing toward me even now, and we shall be reunited momentarily.

I swipe at my eyes, and raise my face to the approaching rider as he gallops our way. It isn’t until he reaches us and dismounts that I get a good look at him. This is not my Vittorio, this is a stranger. I kick the dirt in my frustration and turn away from him in disappointment.

to be continued

Now go see what the other Briefers are up to!





 Until next time, take care!

♥ Julie

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Virtual Book Tour: The Tempest Murders

Please welcome author p.m. terrell, who is going to answer my questions and talk about her newest release, The Tempest Murders.  p.m. will be awarding a Celtic bracelet to a random commenter (US only) during the tour. The more often you comment, the greater your chancesof winning. To find out where the other stops on the tour are, go here.



The Questions
1)      You’re marooned on a small island with one person and one item of your choice—who is that person and what item do you have?

I would want to be marooned with my twin soul, just as Ryan and Cait found each other in The Tempest

The item would be electricity. Let’s face it, there’s a lot we could figure out if we had the means to power it!

Murders. There is something about finding someone who was always destined to be your other half that is romantic and oh-so-fulfilling.







  2)     Which musical would you say best exemplifies your life – and which character in that musical are you?

Mama Mia and I would most definitely be Donna!



   3)    Take these three words and give me a 100 word or less scenario using them:  insurance, owed, talk

His eyes locked onto mine, compelling me, begging me, to talk to him. I owed him an explanation but I couldn’t come clean—not yet. Not when keeping him in the dark was just the insurance I needed to keep me alive.



4)      What is your idea of how to spend romantic time with your significant other?

A candlelit dinner in a romantic restaurant at a table in a darkened corner… Followed by a walk along the

beach in the moonlight as we hold hands, occasionally stopping to kiss and hold one another… Walking home to find a bottle of chilled wine, strawberries dipped in chocolate, music playing softly, and a warm, soft, cozy bed to fall into…
5)      When you start a new story, do you begin with a character, or a plot?

I usually begin with the plot. Then I determine who best could tell that story—male or female, their role in the plot, and what they will need and know every step of the way.

6)      If they were to make the story of your life into a movie, who should play you?



If I could reach back to anyone, alive or deceased, I’d choose Vivien Leigh. She could always play roles in which the main character should have had it all but lost everything, and then rose from the ashes to become stronger than before.








7)      Who’s your favorite horror villain and why?

Robert DeNiro in Cape Fear really freaked me out… He took someone who looked like anyone else and

who could act completely normal when the circumstances warranted it—but in whom lurked a rage, the desire for revenge, and a hatred so deep that it felt Satanic. After all, it’s not the ones who look different that are the most dangerous, but those who can blend into our inner circles before we realize the monster they truly are.





8)      Do you have an historical crush and if so, who is it?



Historical… Hmm. It would have to be Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain. He was a college professor who joined the United States Army during the Civil War, and who found himself at Gettysburg and instructed to hold Little Round Top at any cost. The fighting was ferocious and the Confederates kept charging the hill, until Chamberlain’s men were completely out of ammunition.  Desperate, he reached into his mind to every lesson he’d been taught and then ordered his men to fix bayonets. As they charged down the hill to meet the men charging up, they horrified the Confederates and turned the tide of the battle. It’s ordinary people who do extraordinary things that have always intrigued me.
9)      Is there a story that you’d like to tell but you think the world isn’t ready to receive it?

I’ve been asked to write my autobiography numerous times, but I’ve been reluctant to do so. I think for every person who has judged this book by its cover, they’d be surprised to learn of my true and amazing journey.




The Tempest Murders
by p.m. Terrell

~~~~~~~~~~~~~



BLURB:

A provocative story of a love that spans centuries, of soul mates found, lost and reunited… and the lengths to which one man will go to change their destiny.

Irish Detective Ryan O’Clery is working a series of homicides in America when he discovers a journal written by an uncle, Constable Rian Kelly, five generations earlier. The journal detailed the same type of murders as the worst storm in Ireland’s history slammed into the island in 1839.

As Hurricane Irene barrels toward the North Carolina coastline, Ryan discovers even the killer’s description matches his cases exactly. And as he falls in love with television reporter Cathleen Reilly, he begins to wonder if she is the reincarnation of Caitlin O’Conor, Rian Kelly’s lover—the woman who was lost to the killer as the storm raged in Ireland—and if he is the reincarnation of Constable Rian Kelly.

Now he’s in a race to rescue Cathleen before the killer finds her—or is history destined to repeat itself?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

EXCERPT:


They were bites away from finishing their meal when the sky opened up. There might have been a warning, had he been by himself and able to observe his surroundings; but by the time he noticed the trees bending deeply and the gray clouds roiling, the rain had descended on them in a torrent. Within seconds, their food was floating.

A tiny shriek escaped Cathleen’s lips as she vainly tried to keep the rain off her head.

Ryan jumped up, grabbed her wrist and in one fluid movement, had her on her feet. They raced for the back door, managing to rush inside just as a wicked clap of thunder sounded, followed almost instantly by a white streak of lightning.

Once inside, he closed the door, plunging them both into relative silence. He turned around, an offer to get her a towel on his lips. But when he laid eyes on her, the words froze. She was completely drenched. Her hair was hanging in folds from which water streamed until it formed a puddle on the hardwood floor. Her thin blouse was plastered to her body and seemed to highlight the black lace bra beneath. It further accentuated a slender waist before giving way to jeans that she now appeared to have been poured into. Her feet were soaked and as he took in the petite toes peeking out, he found himself staring at the pink polish and a Celtic toe ring before his eyes moved back up her body.

By the time they reached her eyes, he felt as if he was on automatic pilot. His mind was completely blank, his emotions swept away. He stepped toward her at the exact moment he reached out and pulled her to him, the wet blouse teasing his chest. He didn’t look in her eyes but closed his as his lips locked onto hers.

They were everything he’d dreamed about; full and moist and soft. But she wasn’t kissing him.

He stopped and took a step backward, separating them. She stood perfectly still and stared at him with eyes that had grown round and huge. Her face had lost its color and as she continued staring at him, he realized she was in shock.

Horrified with his own boorish behavior, he stumbled over his words. “I am so sorry. I’ve never done anything like that in my life—”

She rushed at him and for the briefest of moments, he didn’t know if she planned to slap him or pummel him or push him to the side to rush out the door. He staggered backward to get out of her way but when she descended on him her arms encircled his neck, pulling his head down to hers. When their lips met again, hers were slightly open and she met his mouth with a passion he had only dreamed about but had never fully experienced.

Ryan’s arms wrapped around her; pulling her to him so tightly he had to contain himself to keep from bruising her. She tasted sweet and fresh, the raindrops mingling with perspiration and a fragrance that was both soothing and wild and which seemed to envelop them both in a sensual cocoon.

His large hand found her face, the palm cupping her chin while his fingers stroked her jaw. Her skin was as soft as silk and moist from the rain; and as her lips parted further to allow him in, he thought he could never get enough of her. As one hand wandered to her hair, weaving his fingers through the long tresses, a mingled scent of citrus and florals wafted upward, growing in intensity as he fondled her locks.

He pressed his body against her, tightening his hold on her as his other hand explored her back, kneading her skin through the thin, wet blouse. Her breath was coming in short shallow bursts now and he could feel her heart quickening as he pressed ever closer. When she sighed softly, he opened his eyes and when she moaned, he reluctantly drew back from her, his muscled chest rising and falling and yearning.

Her face was flushed, the heat rising in her cheeks in a way that tantalized him. Her plump lips remained slightly parted and as he gazed at them, he realized he might have bruised them despite his efforts to control his passion. As his eyes found hers, he discovered them staring at him in a way that disarmed him. The gold flecks he had seen earlier appeared to have grown and now they nearly glowed as she looked at him. They were tumultuous, the colors dancing under her long, curved black lashes. But it was the raw emotion in them that gripped his soul; he’d seen desire before and had witnessed passion but there was something more—something deeper. It was trust, he realized with a start. As if she was standing before him, naked to the soul and she was entrusting herself to his care.

In his peripheral vision, he could see her chest rising and falling with her jagged breath and each rise threatened to take him closer to the peak of desire.
.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

p.m.terrell is the pen name for Patricia McClelland Terrell, the award-winning, internationally acclaimed author of more than eighteen books in four genres: contemporary suspense, historical suspense, computer how-to and non-fiction.

Prior to writing full-time, she founded two computer companies in the Washington, DC Metropolitan Area: McClelland Enterprises, Inc. and Continental Software Development Corporation. Among her clients were the Central Intelligence Agency, United States Secret Service, U.S. Information Agency, and Department of Defense. Her specialties were in white collar computer crimes and computer intelligence.

Vicki’s Key was a top five finalist in the 2012 International Book Awards and 2012 USA Book Awards nominee and her historical suspense, River Passage, was a 2010 Best Fiction and Drama Winner. It was determined to be so historically accurate that a copy of the book resides at the Nashville Government Metropolitan Archives in Nashville, Tennessee.

She is also the co-founder of The Book ‘Em Foundation, an organization committed to raising public awareness of the correlation between high crime rates and high illiteracy rates. She is the organizer of Book ‘Em North Carolina, an annual event held in Lumberton, North Carolina, to raise funds to increase literacy and reduce crime. For more information on this event and the literacy campaigns funded by it, visit www.bookemnc.org. 

She sits on the boards of the Friends of the Robeson County Public Library and the Robeson County Arts Council. She has also served on the boards of Crime Stoppers and Crime Solvers and became the first female president of the Chesterfield County-Colonial Heights Crime Solvers in Virginia.

For more information visit the author’s website at www.pmterrell.com, follow her on Twitter at @pmterrell, her blog at www.pmterrell.blogspot.com, and on Facebook under author.p.m.terrell.

Buy Links:

http://www.amazon.com/The-Tempest-Murders-ebook/dp/B00EOAFTYY/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1377895714&sr=1-2&keywords=the+tempest+murders



Monday, October 21, 2013

Guest Blogger Alicia Nordwell

Please welcome my good friend and fellow author, Cia Nordwell, who is going to talk about her newest
release, Picked at the Peak.  Why don't you go ahead and start, Cia, while I make coffee?










On Sale Now!
Synopsis:
Aislin was surrounded by his extensive, but close-knit, family his whole life. He was the younger brother or the cousin they needed to protect and the kid’s favorite uncle, but he was never just Aislin. His overbearing family rarely listened to him, so sure they knew best. His adult years had all been about proving that the accident that damaged his leg as a teenager didn’t limit him.

He started a microbrewery business, bought a winery and decided to have... a baby.

The news shocked his family and friends, but he was determined to be a single parent. Not that Aislin 
wouldn’t love to have a partner, but dating never really worked out for him. It didn’t matter if he was gay, or single, or had a handicap. He was more than prepared.

He was not expecting the drastic change the next nine months would wreak on his life.

Excerpt:
Aislin was standing nervously out in the hallway while Diane got situated in the room where they were going to do the ultrasound.

Pregnant women were everywhere. One stepped up on a scale a few feet away and glanced at him. Aislin made sure to look away before the nurse moved the little black thingy. That was one thing he did remember. Every woman in his family had complained about their weight gain and refused to let their husbands know exactly how much the scale revealed. He wasn’t about to peek at the scale while a pregnant lady was on it, even if the woman was a stranger.

Sometimes he thought that the women in his family believed being gay meant he actually cared about their feminine drama. He didn't get it. He loved football just as much as his brother and male cousins and he wasn't particularly stylish or good at decorating. His mom and aunt had seen the dark wood furniture and leather all over his house along with bare white walls and promptly swept in and added a bunch of pillows and pictures to keep it from being a total bachelor pad. He kept asking why being attracted to men meant he had to know the difference between the ecru and the off-white curtains, or why he’d liked the froofy looking pillows he always threw back in the closet when his mother—

His mother.

"Oh shi …itake mushrooms." Aislin turned the curse into something else before the little girl in pigtails sitting beside her very pregnant mother in the area where they did the vitals could hear him say something very naughty. He expected a glare from the tired-looking woman, but she smirked instead.

"Expecting your first?"

"Uh, yes." He cocked his head. "How could you tell? Do I look that nervous?"

She chuckled. "You mean more nervous than any man would be surrounded by this sea of hormonal women? No. But you usually can tell the first timers by the way they haven't quite cut the cussing out of their vocabulary."

Snorting, Aislin smiled. "I have enough little nieces and nephews in my family. I should know better."

“It’s always different when you have your own.” She smiled at him, running a hand through her daughter’s pigtail and smoothing the bright curls.

"Mr. Kavanagh? You can come in now."

“Okay.” All of Aislin's worry came rushing back and his fingers flexed on his crutch. "Bye,” he said, “and thanks for not getting upset."

She nodded and smiled. “Good luck.”

The door let him in near Diane's head and he was grateful for that. He'd expected to see her stomach exposed like on all the TV shows but instead her feet were up in the foot rests at the end of the table and a blue sheet covered her open legs. 

"Oh!" His face felt like it was on fire. "I … uh, I should just stay here?"

He stopped a few feet from the table and started to shift back toward the door.

Diane laughed. "Don't be silly. You can't see anything too personal if you come stand right here by my head, and you'll be able to see the monitor better."

Aislin shuffled forward carefully, then sat on the stool the nurse slid over to him. He stretched his leg out. "Thanks."

The girl running the machine switched the monitor around. "Okay, so we're ready to get started here. It should only take me a few minutes to get the pictures the doctor wants, and as I go I'll explain what I can to you."

"Do you know what the doctor is looking for?" Aislin asked her.

"Not really. I'm doing the basic early pregnancy ultrasound and taking some measurements. It's a bit early, but they may just want to make sure your baby is growing as it should be. I can't really speculate though, and I’m sure the doctor will let you know if there’s something she’s concerned about."

The lack of information was really beginning to get to Aislin. The nurse caught his frown. "Don't worry, right after I'm done the doctor will be in to talk to you, so she can answer any questions you have. I take the pictures, but it's really her job to tell you what is going on with your baby, if anything. That’s why you pay her the big bucks."

Well at least there was some hope of getting answers. The white fuzz on the screen began to speckle like snow on a black sky as the nurse began moving her arm around under the sheet.  Was there a baby in there? He squinted, trying to see it in the blurred flurry of dots. Then Aislin saw a solid black area and floating in the center was a lighter shape curled up.

"Oh my god. It looks like a baby." Aislin stared at the screen, his mouth open slightly. Its little arm moved, jerking up and down and the whole big headed body sort of jiggled. He could barely breathe, watching in fascination.

Both women chuckled. "What did you expect?" Diane asked.

"A blob? Maybe a vague head shape and body like those foam packing peanuts."

The nurse grinned and winked at him. "This must be your first time."

Aislin nodded. "For me."


Buy Links:

Author Links:
Facebook: Cia’s Stories
Twitter: @AliciaNordwell



Thanks for stopping by, Alicia! Come back any time!

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Wednesday Briefs: No Way Out #26

Good morning and Happy Wednesday! Time really flies when you're having fun, doesn't it? If it's Wednesday, then it's time for more flash fiction from the Wednesday Briefers, isn't it?

Just a reminder that today is the last day I'll post from No Way Out. Next week, I'll be starting something new. So if you want to continue getting new chapters, just let me know. Penumbra, I didn't get your email addy yet, if you'd send that to me, or comment and leave it here. I'll be sending what I've already done, reformatted into actual chapters, with a little editing, plus I have a new chapter ready.

As you'll recall from last week, Shy has been brought into Wyatt's hands for safekeeping - at least for now. He really has no idea what's going on, and at some point he needs to find out. So, how will Wyatt handle the situation? Find out in this week's chapter of No Way Out. Then don't forget to see what the other Briefers are up to. Their links follow my tale. Enjoy!

No Way Out #26


Before he had a chance to ask, the moment passed. Bill turned to him, an oddly serious expression in his eyes. Why was everyone acting so strangely?

“I’m going to be getting along. You’re in good hands now, I can see that. You take care, Shy. And if you ever need... No, I think you won’t, will you?” He shook his head, as if to clear it. But his words made no sense to Shy. “I hope we meet again some time. Just not there.” He stepped toward Shy and briefly patted his shoulder, before moving on to the other two men in the room, shaking their hands.

“Thanks again,” Wyatt said. “For everything.”

Once Bill had gone, Wyatt returned and knelt before Shy. “Are you hungry? Would you like something to drink? Are you tired? Maybe you’d like to go to sleep?”

Sleep? Shy didn’t think he was tired yet. But he had things to do.

“I should go home now.” He patted his pants leg, as a sudden thought struck him, producing a frown. These weren’t his pants. No, how could they be? He’d not been wearing any when they’d gone to the club. Only a coat. And a cock ring. Where was his coat? He didn’t care about the cock ring. Didn’t care if he saw it again.

No, not true. If he lost it, then there’d be hell to pay.

“Shitfuck.”

“What’s the matter, Shy?”

Wyatt’s voice was warm, like melted butter. Almost a verbal caress. Shy pushed the thought aside.

“I don’t have my keys. How’m I going to get in the house? I have to get in. I have to. I just have to...” The panic was beginning to overtake him now. Just the thought of what Randy would do... He released a small whimper, rising unsteadily to his feet. “I have to go,” he kept repeating, as if by saying it the magic number of times, his wish would come true.
* * * *
It took superhuman effort on Wyatt’s part not to grab Shy and hug him to his bosom. He wanted to comfort him so badly, but Lukas’ words still echoed in his ears. He bit his bottom lip until he couldn’t stand the pain and desisted.

It was hard, though, no shit. He could feel Shy’s panic overtake him, and he knew what the problem was. He wanted to go back before Randy got there, afraid he’d be beaten for being absent, or whatever other bullshit reason Grant might think of to punish him with. Shy hadn’t comprehended yet that Randy was not coming home. Not tonight, anyway.

What could he do to relieve Shy’s anxiety?

Shy’s big blue eyes were pulling at his heart. He turned to Lukas, His mentor’s expression was one of warning.

“I could probably get him inside...” He pitched his voice deliberately low, for Lukas’ ears alone. He was thinking ahead. He could break out a window; there were plenty of those, and he could repair the damage before Grant ever returned. He didn’t like the idea, but if it gave Shy peace of mind...

Lukas shook his head. “I know what you’re thinking and that won’t work. Don’t you think that house has a security alarm? You’ll just set it off, and not do yourself any good in the process...”

“Surely Shy knows the code—”

“Honey, I don’t think he knows much of anything right now, to be honest.”

Lukas was undoubtedly right. Shy seemed to be living in another world entirely. He had no idea what was really happening around him.

Well, that worked out, as Wyatt hadn’t really wanted to take him there, to leave him alone in that horrible place. And he had no doubt that it was a horrible place, just from the little he’d heard.

Okay, Wyatt, time to show a little maturity and deal with the situation.

“Shy...” He touched his shoulder, softly, but didn’t linger, waiting a moment for an adverse reaction. There was none. One hurdle crossed. Best not to push his luck, though. “Why don’t you stay here tonight? 

Tomorrow we’ll see about getting you into the house, how does that sound?”

Shy gave him a blank look.

Wyatt held in his sigh of frustration. How could he reach him? How? Most importantly, how could he do it without hurting him?

What was he doing wrong? Maybe the problem was that Shy wasn’t used to making any decisions on his own. Undoubtedly, Grant did that for him. And with what Shy had been through, he was doubly unequipped to handle choices.

Well, then, Wyatt would have to do that for him. At least for now.

He rose to his feet, careful not to brush against Shy in any way; he didn’t want to spook him.

“Come with me into the kitchen. We’ll find something good,” he said, keeping his voice firm, but as gentle as he knew how. To his surprise, Shy made no argument and stood up from the couch. So far, so good.

He darted a glance at Lukas. His mentor gave him a nod of approval, saying nothing. Wyatt understood. The ball was most definitely in his court now.

Wyatt headed toward the hallway that led to the kitchen. He forced himself not to look back, trusting that Shy would follow him. Now he knew how Orpheus felt when making the long trip back from Hades, with the love of his life, Eurydice, trailing behind. And why he couldn’t resist turning to make sure she was really there. And then he lost her.

He didn’t intend to lose Shy. Even if his common sense argued that Shy was not his to lose. He wanted him to be, though. Oh, how he wanted him to be.

The journey from the living room to the kitchen had never felt so long. He opened the door to the pantry, and only then did he dare to look.

Shy stood there, patiently waiting.

to be continued



Until next time, take care!

♥ Julie

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Attachment Strings Review

Attachment Strings   

Author: Chris T. Kat
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
American release date: June 16, 2013
Format/Genre/Length: Novel/M/M Mystery/244 pages
Overall Personal Rating: ★★★★


Detective Jeff Woods is closeted. Better safe than sorry is his motto, so he keeps his true sexuality a secret from his fellow officers and gets his kicks in private. Feeling the need to get off, he heads to a little place he knows, called the Lion’s Den, and begins to scope out the inhabitants. He’s just picked out his choice for the evening when he’s hit on by a pretty blond guy who’s appeared out of nowhere, a guy that’s completely not his type, not in a million years. But Jeff ends up taking Alex to a nearby motel and having sex with him anyway.

Jeff tells himself it’s just for fun. A way to scratch an itch. Even if he does seem to like repeating this particular encounter of the intimate kind more often than not. Until one night when Alex gets a call in the middle of their fun and ducks out to handle what he refers to as a “family emergency”. An infuriated Jeff isn’t buying that, of course, and he won’t listen to Alex’s protestations that it isn’t what he thinks. Afterward, he becomes very hard to live with. His feelings are only exacerbated when his partner, Parker, reveals that he knows Jeff is gay. He promises he won’t tell, but can Jeff trust him?

The two detectives are assigned to work a case involving death threats against students at a special school for the handicapped. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to the attacks. To his surprise, Jeff finds himself face to face with the brother of one of the kids at the school, in the course of his investigation, and it’s none other than Alex.

If Alex is all wrong for Jeff, how can he feel so right? And can Jeff accept Alex’s handicapped brother, Sean when he finds it hard to even be around the child?

The first book in the Jeff Woods mystery series introduces us to Jeff very nicely and lays the groundwork for future volumes. Told in a first person POV, I like Jeff’s brutal honesty about himself and the world around him, including his aversion to Alex’s handicapped brother. I like the way that his and Alex’s relationship grows and evolves in a realistic way, while they fumble their way through the getting to know you stage.

At the heart of the novel is a mystery: who is killing these children and why? Attachment Strings is a mystery first and foremost. This is Jeff Woods’ story, masterfully spun by a great storyteller. Has he found something serious with Alex, despite the fact that he’s not Jeff’s usual type? And where does Sean fit into the scheme of things?


The writing flows so smoothly that before you know it, the book’s done, and you’re ready for the next one. I recommend this to anyone who enjoys a good mystery as well as a bit of romance.