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Here we go again!

As I said, an update! Many ups and downs over the last few years which is partly why this has been so dead. Hi, if you’re still here. :D Missed you!

I had a point where I was starting many, many things and finishing nothing. I was beginning to feel cursed. Haha. Curses aren’t real…excuse me, need to knock on wood and toss some salt. Anyway! I resolved to break the “curse” and with the assistance and encouragement of my husband and our best friend I was able to finish SHE WHO STORMS. They loved it. They encouraged me to go back out on query so here I am!

I have a half-complete novel I am feeling my way through, but for some reason as much as I love the characters and the setting I feel like it meanders and need to figure out what is wrong. So, in the meantime I am working on something else. Another thing I am super excited about. The title is REAWAKENING SABINA. And, yes, I will surely share an excerpt at some point, but I am still in the early stages, feeling my way around the three pov characters.

Back to SHE WHO STORMS I have a little excerpt to share. Not a big one. This has been a vague, meandering post, but my tooth hurts! Still, I am going to go for a nice weekly update here and figure out this blog thing again. In the meantime:

“You’re really her.” Vlasis held out a piece of bread smeared with fish paste and a hunk of salted beef. “I didn’t think you were real.”

“Few stories lack any truth.”

“But, I mean, my uncle told tales of you.”

“Was your uncle someone who fought?”

“Nah. He said he never did. Just knew a lot of people. Helped out sometimes with the militia in Mifiliks.”

Lots of people “assisted” militias. Usually, it was not simply giving them a place to sleep or a bit of food. Vlasis watched me as I took a bite of the bread and chewed. The bread was still fresh, so the paste wasn’t needed to chew with ease, but it added more sustenance and I’d had no dinner or breakfast so was thankful for it.

“What was your uncle’s name? Maybe I have heard of him.”

“Well, no one really knows him off Mifiliks.”

“I fought there. And the islands to either side. I’ve fought across this whole archipelago, k-” I coughed on the word I’d started to say. He was not the sort to take to being called kid. “Sorry.”

“My uncle is Ceranoh. He is the governor of Liliks province.” He paused there, likely waiting for me to say I’d never heard of him. The kid was wrong.

The name had me coughing again. I knew Ceranoh. He was a rat who’d sold out plenty for a bit of coin. That he was a governor did not surprise. Men like him turned into heroes of the people. His people. My own troops had fared less well under his contract, and I bit back a grin. Here was someone I’d be honored to add to my bag.

Vlasis stared at my continued silence, so I found a more staid grin before speaking.

“I do know your uncle. Perhaps if we pass that way I might stop in and say hello. I’m sure he won’t remember me from our time so long ago.” At first, I thought this was why he looked familiar, but I could not recall what Ceranoh looked like. He certainly didn’t act like him.

The kid laughed and spit breadcrumbs all over his tunic and mine. At least he looked ashamed. “Of course, he would remember you! I will never forget meeting She Who Storms. Shall I post a letter before we leave?”

“No, no,” I said with what I hoped was a casual wave of the hand holding my beef. “I wouldn’t want him to go to any trouble. Especially since I don’t know when I might make it. I can send a note when I reach Mifiliks.” And not have to fight my way through so many soldiers when I got there. I did not feel the need to kill those who had done nothing to me.

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It's Blog Time! - What's My State?

I don't mean Oklahoma. 

So, where do things stand? 

1. I am actively querying Widowed Witch of the West as of today. OMG! Freaking out! I know it's a long road, but this first step is kinda freaking me out! 

2. I am working on Sanguine Road. My goal is to be done by November with the first draft. I know vampires are a hard sell, but I have faith in Lucy. Who is, after all, not a vampire. Although Emeric is and I adore his differences from other urban fantasy heroes. Early beta feedback on this story has been good so, fingers crossed!

3. For Nano, unless something derails me, I am writing a Copper and Riona novel. This will start after all of the short stories. I am still not sure what, if anything, I will do with those. Other than <3 them forever.

4. Kids are back in school which means my schedule changed. So, give me another month to be fully adjusted to that situation.

5. Next year seems so far away, but I am thinking I might spend some time finishing up the rewrite of Mad Baron. 

That is it for numbers. Here. Let me tease Sanguine Road a wee bit. 

Filthy, ancient carpet passed untouched under my feet as I ignored the sting of bleach in my nostrils to grab Emeric by the throat.  His hands came up, but he could not budge me. Nails dug into my skin, but he’s not my first. A human, or a wolf, would be out by now. Anything requiring air to function would gasp in my face and either fight more fiercely or give up.

Emeric, not needing air, damn the undead, continued to try to pry my fingers from his throat. If he dies, from my hand especially, there would be no payment. My fingers eased up and he took it the wrong way. A fist connected with my stomach and it was me who gasped.

I needed air. Right now, I had very little. Emeric tried to get the advantage, but I merely tightened my fingers again on his throat. His fangs were out and brown eyes were narrowed to tiny slashes in his handsome face.

My own fangs, far longer to contend with a prey who fought, were visible. The couple to the east of my room had stopped fighting. Some speck of animal in them had sprung to life and sent them to the far side of their room. They huddled together in the closet, barely breathing. The parking lot stood empty and I heard five different locks click into place.

Not even the bleach could hide the scent of Emeric. Not when I so desperately wanted to tear out his throat to show him the error of his way. If only he were food as well as prey.

“No.”

I released him, tore my arms from his nails and felt the sting of broken skin, and backed across the room. Time wasted while I fought. Every second could be the death of someone I loved. His nose didn’t even twitch at the scent of my blood. I’m no more food for him than he is for me.

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