Here's the start of, Call Me Trouble.
“Please rise while the Magistrate reads the charges against you.” A bailiff with a black eye and fat lip pulled Trouble to her feet, not giving her a choice. She stumbled against the iron shackles on her ankles, unable to catch herself with her wrists cuffed to the iron girdle at her waist. The bailiff yanked on her arm, keeping her upright, preventing her from landing on her face, but damn near dislocating her shoulder in the process.
“Aristasha Trouble Devoe, you have been accused of multiple crimes against the citizens of Pegasus Port and this government.”
She lifted her chin and pinned the judge with a look of contempt through a shock of her dark hair. It seemed she’d waited forever for her court date. To say it been excruciating was an understatement. The staff had sleazed into her cell at least a hundred times with all kinds of offers. Trading sex for an escape, where she’d probably be nabbed outside the jail, hadn’t been on her agenda—so she’d passed on their offers as only she could. A knee to the groin, a couple of fat lips later, and they had her in a security girdle to control her violent outbursts, as they’d called them. Little did they know, they hadn’t seen violence yet?
They took the additional precaution of chaining her to a bench for the duration of her stay. She wrinkled her nose. They’d been thoughtful enough to leave a clay pot under the bench for her to relieve herself, which she’d used to baptize the bailiff who’d gotten a little too familiar when he’d come to collect her for her hearing. He hadn’t had time to change and smelled like he’d crawled from the sewers. Fitting.
“Why the formality? We gotten so cozy the last few weeks. Please, call me Trouble,” she said.
“Silence.” The judged slammed his gavel down. “The prisoner will hold her tongue until asked to do otherwise.”
Trouble smiled. “It’s a bit slippery, but I could certainly give it a…” Hundreds of volts slammed into her, from the center of the iron girdle where tiny needles stuck into her mid section. She dropped to her knees on the stone floor, the pain stealing her wind and any further words she wished to utter. She sucked in a breath and lifted her face to her accusers. She’d be damned if she gave them the satisfaction of defeating her so she smiled, beaming as though she’d received a gift.
“Sergeant Devoe, you have been accused of abandoning your military post, grand theft of a star-cruiser, armed robbery, the unlawful release of indentured servants, theft of a valuable animal, and assaulting your commanding officer with a…” The judge narrowed his eyes and squinted at the holo-screen on his desk. He lifted his gaze and motioned the court officer over. The man stepped up and the judge pointed at the screen.
The bailiff looked up and smirked. “Poodle, your honor.”
“Poodle?”
The officer nodded. “Small, fluffy, canine from Earth. Supposed to be hypoallergenic…”
The judge cleared his throat. “And assault with a poodle.”
The courtroom burst into laughter.
“Order.” The judge slammed his gavel against his desk several times until the room went silent. “How plead you to these charges?”
It seemed the only thing they couldn’t charge her with was not being resourceful. Trouble fought the smile, pulling at the corners of her mouth. So she’d ripped the nasty little ankle bitter from the old bitch’s arms and threw her in the captain’s face. Pookie, apparently didn’t like men, and took a chunk from the captain’s face when he caught her. The poodle had survived the encounter without injury, but Captain Terrance Walters… Trouble glanced in his direction.
He glared, promising retribution with one look. A jagged injury, recently fused shut, covered his left cheek. Yeah, he had a reason to be angry, and she wouldn’t fault him that. He’d only been doing his duty and certainly hadn’t deserved what she’d done, but the simple fact of it all, was that she hadn’t wanted to go back and he seemed to think otherwise. The distraction had helped her to get away. Besides, she’d done him a favor. The scar would look dashing on his otherwise plain countenance. Women would love it.
Of course she wasn’t completely without heart. Not wanting the poodle to catch the brunt of the Captain’s fury, she’d grabbed the little dog and ran, adding theft of the poodle to the long list of charges. If it hadn’t been for the bio-tag inside the little dog, they’d never caught her. If only she’d known it was a show dog.
“What say you? We don’t have all day, Sergeant.”
“Guilty.” They’d captured her entire crime spree in full digital glory. No she wasn’t some kind of hero, nor did she have a legitimate reason for what she did. Truth was, she’d gone AWOL and had ducked into the brothel to hide. No use in denying what they had evidence to prove without a doubt. Yes she’d abandoned her military post. Yes she’d thrown the poodle and stolen it. Yes she’d taken the ship without authorization and given a few unfortunate women a ride off the planet. Yes, she’d robbed that bank. She needed the funds to fuel the ship. At least she hadn’t killed anyone.
Freeing the prostitutes had been a spontaneous decision, that she’d been certain would make it more difficult to track her flight from the cat-house. Multiple woman running in every direction—what wasn’t to love? Nothing honorable about what she did—she just didn’t want to fight in the war anymore.
“You do realize the penalty for desertion?”
Desertion? She’d forgotten it wasn’t called absent without leave, in times of war. Shit. This couldn’t be good. Desertion was the ultimate military no-no. She’d just wanted out, hadn’t thought that they’d take it that far when she’d chosen to run.
“The military court sees fit to release you into custody of the Company X.”
X-ray? X as in exterminate, X-ray, a suicide company? Her mouth dropped open. They had to be kidding? Nothing she’d done warranted death. “Your honor, I’d like to change my plea.”
“Too late Ms. Devoe. You are hereby stripped of all rank and military designation. May the gods have mercy on your soul.”
“Fuck.”
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
What am I working on this week?
~Love Happens~
Valentine stared down from the tree, clinging to the trunk with all her strength. If she had her wings, she wouldn’t have had to climb the damn thing. This was so below her station. She was a daughter of Cupid, a step down from a god. She was meant to fly, not scramble up a tree like a monkey. How demeaning.
She’d no choice. Her father had plucked her wings and fired her from the family business. Screw, Cupid. She’d prove him wrong! Val tightened her grip and shifted her position leaning out further.
They were still too buried behind the branches. No clear shot. It didn’t mean she couldn’t see them—each unaware the other existed. They were the ultimate challenge, the most unlikely of mates. Her targets, an old woman of perhaps seventy and a man of maybe five years the woman’s senior, who both occupied an otherwise empty, outdoor plaza.
The mature woman sat silently, eating her predictable, tuna fish sandwich with extra lettuce, hold the tomato, tuna and mayo. She sat there every day—same time—same sandwich—same table.
Dressed head to toe in green except for a big flowered hat, the woman appeared to be in bloom with every flower imaginable. A bird landed on the table and she plucked some of the crust from her sandwich, hand-feeding the Chickadee.
The man—he too was cursed to routine. A neat freak and owner of the sandwich shop. He hated the summer. He hated people in general. Old, crotchety and seriously needing to get laid, one wouldn’t find a cooler character.
He kept busy, raking a broom back and forth across a sidewalk he’d already swept four times in the last hour. Val shuffled further out on the branch. Her fingers now barely made contact with the rough bark on the aged walnut.
The limb dipped under her weight and she began to wobble. Val held her breath until the branch stopped moving, carefully drawing her hand away from the trunk. Slowly she reached back for an arrow.
She lifted her bow, nocked her arrow and drew back. The branch began to move again. Up and down the branch bounced, her heart bounced against her tonsils with each drop, and thumped into her stomach with each up lift. She wobbled back and forth, refusing to let go of her bow or take her eye off her target. Finally stopped and she regained her balance.
One second longer and she’d be on her ass. She could really use her wings, but the only way she was going to get them back was to prove her father wrong. That meant bagging the big one, the perfect means to prove to her family, a long line of Cupids, of which she was the only female ever born, she was up to the task.
She eyed the big one. Two more feet and he’d see it, the plastic fork she’d wedged into a crevice in the walk. It was irresistible. The perfect trap.
He stopped sweeping and zeroed in on it. Val smiled.
Gottcha!
He leaned his broom against a table, walked over to the offending utensil and stared down as though wishing would make it go away.
“Come on, come on. Pick it up.” Val groaned and huffed her bangs off her forehead. “Pick—it—up.”
He bent over, displaying his bony ass like a great big bull’s eye. Finally! She poked her tongue from the side of her mouth as she focused on the shot that would put her back in dad’s good graces. Steady. She drew in a soft breath and blew it out slowly; waiting to take the shot the moment she emptied her lungs.
A bird took the same moment to land on her perch. The branch began to bounce again. Val’s fingers slipped on her draw and the arrow shot into the air. She didn’t get a chance to see where it landed. The next thing she knew, gravity snatched her from her perch and she plummeted toward the ground, hitting half a dozen branches on the way down.
She landed with a thud on top of a warm mountain of muscle.
“Ow!” The muscle shoved her off. “What the hell are you doing up in the tree?”
Val startled. He’d seen her? Perhaps he was talking to someone else. She sat up and looked around but there was no one else in the area. She turned toward her impact cushion and her heart jumped. Dark hair, dark eyes and more than a mouth-watering portion of manly muscle.
“I’m not talking to myself.” The man glared at her.
Val blinked when she realized he truly was addressing her. “Sorry. I was…” What was a good excuse? “Bird watching.” And why should she have to have an excuse? Cupids were invisible when they worked.
“You were spying on someone over there.”
Her eyes popped wide. “Was not.”
“Then what kind of bird were you watching?”
“A…” What kind of bird? “A…”
“I knew it.”
“A purple-throated, warbling eagle.” Hah!
“There’s no such thing.”
“Is too.” Wasn’t there? She could bluff. How could he possibly…
He rose to his feet and dusted off his uniform. Fish and Game peeked back at her from his name tag along with his name. Officer Infernos?
He could. Shit.
He looked down at the bow in her hands and back up. “Poaching?”
“Oh no,” she shook her head. “I wasn’t…”
“Can I see your hunting license?”
“Hunting license?” Cupids didn’t have hunting licenses. This was stupid. He shouldn’t even be able to see her. “I don’t have one.”
“Then I’m going to have to confiscate your bow and arrows.”
“What?” Val scrambled to her feet. “You can’t take my bow.” She eyed his bare head. Thick dark hair. A set of horns poked through the wavy mass. She shook her head and looked again. “You’re horny.”
“Excuse me?” His eyes dilated and his nostrils flared.
“Um.” Heat flooded her face. That so hadn’t come out the way she’d meant it. Not that Cupids didn’t have voracious appetites when it came to sex, but that was the last thing on her mind. He’d seen her and that could only mean one thing. Add the horns and well…“I meant your head. That’s why you can see me. You’re not human.”
He swiped his Smokey-the-Bear hat from the ground and crammed it onto his head. He snatched the bow and her quiver from her grasp. “Crazy people shouldn’t have weapons.”
“I’m not crazy. I know what I saw. You have horns.” She reached for the bow and he moved it away. “Give that back!”
“No.”
She lunged again and ended up chest to chest with Fish and Game’s finest. Val tipped her head back and looked into his burnt chocolate eyes. He stared back, not saying a thing.
Her heart began to thump in time with his. He was taller than he’d looked from when she’d been on the ground. On the, you-have-to-be-this-tall-to-get-on-this-ride-scale, he more than fit the requirement. “Please?” She pouted, giving him her most seductive look.
“No.” He stepped back. “Your I.D? You do have identification?”
“Of course.” She yanked her passport from the folds of her tunic.
He grabbed it and looked from her picture to her face and back. “Venetian. Figures.” He turned and walked over to a truck parked on the side of the plaza. Val scrambled to collect herself and dashed after him. “Please, you have to understand. I need that.”
He tossed her bow and arrows into his truck and climbed in. He put her passport on a clipboard and began to scrawl information on a form.
“Please.” How could he be so heartless? A Cupid without their bow wasn’t a Cupid. They were just some blonde, incredibly cute, but useless, angel. “I’ll give you anything you want.”
“You can start by paying this.” He crammed a citation into her hand with her passport. He lifted his fingers to his brim and tipped his hat. “Ma-am.” His truck pulled away from the curb, leaving her soaking in the burnt-oil fumes of his vehicle’s exhaust.
Val glanced down at the slip. Five hundred dollars! He’d fined her five hundred dollars? “You bastard!” She jumped up and down. Now not only did she have to steal her bow back, she had to get a job. She was on the last of her pocket change. Why? Why couldn’t things go easy just once? Was that too much to ask?
Val watched him disappear. He wasn’t getting away that easy. If anyone knew anything about stalking quarry, it was a Cupid. The Cupid name was synonymous with tracking prey. Val grabbed her pack from under some vegetation where she’d hidden it. She unzipped and reached in.
Her tunic provided her invisibility—well, most times it provided invisibility but not with Mr. Personality. If she was going to merge into the general population, she had to blend. And that meant she needed to dress as one of the natives.
She shook out a pink, gray and white camouflage mini-skirt and a white baby tee that proclaimed in big bold letters, “Here Comes Trouble”.
When in Rome… She dropped her tunic and wiggled into the short skirt and tiny tee, whose bottom failed to reach her waist, leaving a sliver her midriff exposed. Val grabbed a pair of cork-soled wedges, slipped them on and stuffed her malfunctioning tunic in her pack. He shouldn’t have been able to see her regardless what he was. Something was definitely off. Perhaps her father had taken more than her wings?
Now if she could find her wayward arrow, she could find her bow. The arrow placed on top of a lover’s seat would always spin and point toward her enchanted quiver and bow.
She cupped her hand over her eyes and stared out over the plaza. A bench where couples necked would be a good start. There was a fountain… A crowd had begun to gather around the fountain in the plaza that had been all but empty before. What gives? Val rose up on her toes but could see nothing. Other than climbing the tree again, which there was no way in Hades she was doing that, she’d have to get closer to look.
Still early in the morning, something attracted attention. In her line of business, that was never good. It also happened to be the direction her misguided arrow had flown. Yeah, depending on what it hit, it could be real bad. She’d better get down there.
****
The local wildlife was getting way too wild. If she’d had wings, he’d swear she was an angel. Her blonde ringlets had been too perfect, tumbling around her shoulders in a sexy riot like Aphrodite gone bad. Baby-blue eyes and a Cupid’s bow mouth complemented her heart-shaped face. And a toga? In this day and age? It could mean one thing. Crazy, hot chick or a college student out on a dare.
If he hadn’t come along when he did, she’d have shot the sandwich shop owner, old man Winters, in the ass, which would make her the crazy, hot chick.
Dameon touched one of the arrow tips in the quiver and drew his finger back. Warmth spread through him. Maybe he should go back and make sure she was okay?
He shook his head and threw off the strange feeling that invaded. No. He had things to do and that didn’t include chasing after escaped mental patients, no matter how cute. And she was attractive, otherwise his horns wouldn’t have come out. She’d nailed it when she’d blurted out he was horny, but jumping angelic nuts wasn’t on his list of to-dos. Not today.
Not tomorrow. Not ever.
He’d already packed his schedule and somehow he’d even managed to work in a couple of hours of sleep. Then she’d come along and fouled up what would have been a desperately needed nap. Now as he came off the night shift, he’d have to file a report on the poacher, lock up the confiscated evidence and if he was lucky, hit his mattress for a mini snooze.
With all the hunters he’d run out of the area this week, he’d need it, as November rolled around and the annual animal massacres had commenced. Since most of the animal population around the town consisted of weres, the last thing he needed was one of them getting shot and their hide tacked up on the wall or used for a rug. Besides, he had a thing for fluffy bunnies and innocent animals, not just the supernatural kind. He be damned if anyone killed them.
By all means, he should have arrested her, but for some reason, he didn’t. He couldn’t explain his actions. Instincts told him not to, and he’d learned over the years to listen to them. Dameon turned down the street where his little bungalow was located.
Shower—report—bed. No time for angels.
****
Val sauntered into the plaza outside the town hall. The crowd had doubled in a matter of minutes. She jumped up and down behind the crowd, trying to get a glimpse of whatever held their attention. A woman with small children spun around and dragged her kids away.
“Disgusting,” she huffed as she brushed past.
Val stopped her. “What is it?”
The woman turned. “Vandals. Someone added to David.”
“David?”
“The fountain statue. The reproduction of Michelangelo’s David?” The woman raised a brow as though what she spoke about was blatantly obvious.
“Not from around here.” Val smiled and glanced down at a dark-haired little girl with big eyes who hung on her every word, waiting to see if she’d blurt out whatever it was that had her mother’s panties in a wad. “Just got into town this morning.”
“Oh.” The woman frowned. “Please don’t take that adornment as any indication what our community is like. We’re upstanding citizens—civilized—for the most part.” She glanced over her shoulder and gave a snort before she turned back to Val. “Welcome to our little town.”
“Thank you.” Val rose up on her toes and tried to peek over the crowd. “I’m sure it only was mischievous kids. Every town has them,” Val said and looked into the woman’s amber eyes—the most unusual color she’d ever seen. Something about this place…
“Well,” the woman huffed and tightened her grip on her children’s hands, “their parents ought to keep them on a leash. You don’t see my little pups prowling around unsupervised.” The woman stormed off with her children in tow.
“On a leash? Pups? You’d think they were animals,” Val muttered and elbowed her way closer. She broke through the crowd and emerged in front of the fountain.” Val gasped. “Great Zeus.” Her father would kill her if he found out. David stood proud in the middle, looking into the distance as though he were expecting someone... A very good replica, except—well, her arrow had enhanced certain features.
David had a boner.
Cupids were supposed to be discreet and that was about as un-discreet as one could get. How was she going to explain this? She eyed the statue’s erection.
She wasn’t. She was going to grab the evidence and run. Val kicked off her wedges and eyed the statue. She could really use invisibility right now, but wishing wasn’t going to fix the problem. Val sucked in a breath and worked her way toward the pool that surrounded the statue. Not too deep. She lifted her leg to step over the side and into the water, freezing in place when a bird landed on David’s penis and began to squawk. Val set her foot back down and leaned forward, looking closer.
The bird turned and flapped its wings, fixing her with a beady little stare. She’d seen that condescending look before, had grown up with it. Shit, shit, shit. That bird wasn’t a bird, it was her brother, and her father would have full disclosure by sundown. If he found out she’d lost her bow and arrows, there’d be Hades to pay. She had to get them back and quick, before her father came to town.
She spun around and spotted a sporting goods store. She wasn’t getting her arrow back now that her brother was around and she sure as hell couldn’t wait for him to leave. She’d have to find her bow the old-fashioned way and ask. If anyone would know where she could locate the yummy, albeit grouchy, fish and game guy, it would be someone in the sporting goods store. After all, they should sell hunting licenses.
Valentine stared down from the tree, clinging to the trunk with all her strength. If she had her wings, she wouldn’t have had to climb the damn thing. This was so below her station. She was a daughter of Cupid, a step down from a god. She was meant to fly, not scramble up a tree like a monkey. How demeaning.
She’d no choice. Her father had plucked her wings and fired her from the family business. Screw, Cupid. She’d prove him wrong! Val tightened her grip and shifted her position leaning out further.
They were still too buried behind the branches. No clear shot. It didn’t mean she couldn’t see them—each unaware the other existed. They were the ultimate challenge, the most unlikely of mates. Her targets, an old woman of perhaps seventy and a man of maybe five years the woman’s senior, who both occupied an otherwise empty, outdoor plaza.
The mature woman sat silently, eating her predictable, tuna fish sandwich with extra lettuce, hold the tomato, tuna and mayo. She sat there every day—same time—same sandwich—same table.
Dressed head to toe in green except for a big flowered hat, the woman appeared to be in bloom with every flower imaginable. A bird landed on the table and she plucked some of the crust from her sandwich, hand-feeding the Chickadee.
The man—he too was cursed to routine. A neat freak and owner of the sandwich shop. He hated the summer. He hated people in general. Old, crotchety and seriously needing to get laid, one wouldn’t find a cooler character.
He kept busy, raking a broom back and forth across a sidewalk he’d already swept four times in the last hour. Val shuffled further out on the branch. Her fingers now barely made contact with the rough bark on the aged walnut.
The limb dipped under her weight and she began to wobble. Val held her breath until the branch stopped moving, carefully drawing her hand away from the trunk. Slowly she reached back for an arrow.
She lifted her bow, nocked her arrow and drew back. The branch began to move again. Up and down the branch bounced, her heart bounced against her tonsils with each drop, and thumped into her stomach with each up lift. She wobbled back and forth, refusing to let go of her bow or take her eye off her target. Finally stopped and she regained her balance.
One second longer and she’d be on her ass. She could really use her wings, but the only way she was going to get them back was to prove her father wrong. That meant bagging the big one, the perfect means to prove to her family, a long line of Cupids, of which she was the only female ever born, she was up to the task.
She eyed the big one. Two more feet and he’d see it, the plastic fork she’d wedged into a crevice in the walk. It was irresistible. The perfect trap.
He stopped sweeping and zeroed in on it. Val smiled.
Gottcha!
He leaned his broom against a table, walked over to the offending utensil and stared down as though wishing would make it go away.
“Come on, come on. Pick it up.” Val groaned and huffed her bangs off her forehead. “Pick—it—up.”
He bent over, displaying his bony ass like a great big bull’s eye. Finally! She poked her tongue from the side of her mouth as she focused on the shot that would put her back in dad’s good graces. Steady. She drew in a soft breath and blew it out slowly; waiting to take the shot the moment she emptied her lungs.
A bird took the same moment to land on her perch. The branch began to bounce again. Val’s fingers slipped on her draw and the arrow shot into the air. She didn’t get a chance to see where it landed. The next thing she knew, gravity snatched her from her perch and she plummeted toward the ground, hitting half a dozen branches on the way down.
She landed with a thud on top of a warm mountain of muscle.
“Ow!” The muscle shoved her off. “What the hell are you doing up in the tree?”
Val startled. He’d seen her? Perhaps he was talking to someone else. She sat up and looked around but there was no one else in the area. She turned toward her impact cushion and her heart jumped. Dark hair, dark eyes and more than a mouth-watering portion of manly muscle.
“I’m not talking to myself.” The man glared at her.
Val blinked when she realized he truly was addressing her. “Sorry. I was…” What was a good excuse? “Bird watching.” And why should she have to have an excuse? Cupids were invisible when they worked.
“You were spying on someone over there.”
Her eyes popped wide. “Was not.”
“Then what kind of bird were you watching?”
“A…” What kind of bird? “A…”
“I knew it.”
“A purple-throated, warbling eagle.” Hah!
“There’s no such thing.”
“Is too.” Wasn’t there? She could bluff. How could he possibly…
He rose to his feet and dusted off his uniform. Fish and Game peeked back at her from his name tag along with his name. Officer Infernos?
He could. Shit.
He looked down at the bow in her hands and back up. “Poaching?”
“Oh no,” she shook her head. “I wasn’t…”
“Can I see your hunting license?”
“Hunting license?” Cupids didn’t have hunting licenses. This was stupid. He shouldn’t even be able to see her. “I don’t have one.”
“Then I’m going to have to confiscate your bow and arrows.”
“What?” Val scrambled to her feet. “You can’t take my bow.” She eyed his bare head. Thick dark hair. A set of horns poked through the wavy mass. She shook her head and looked again. “You’re horny.”
“Excuse me?” His eyes dilated and his nostrils flared.
“Um.” Heat flooded her face. That so hadn’t come out the way she’d meant it. Not that Cupids didn’t have voracious appetites when it came to sex, but that was the last thing on her mind. He’d seen her and that could only mean one thing. Add the horns and well…“I meant your head. That’s why you can see me. You’re not human.”
He swiped his Smokey-the-Bear hat from the ground and crammed it onto his head. He snatched the bow and her quiver from her grasp. “Crazy people shouldn’t have weapons.”
“I’m not crazy. I know what I saw. You have horns.” She reached for the bow and he moved it away. “Give that back!”
“No.”
She lunged again and ended up chest to chest with Fish and Game’s finest. Val tipped her head back and looked into his burnt chocolate eyes. He stared back, not saying a thing.
Her heart began to thump in time with his. He was taller than he’d looked from when she’d been on the ground. On the, you-have-to-be-this-tall-to-get-on-this-ride-scale, he more than fit the requirement. “Please?” She pouted, giving him her most seductive look.
“No.” He stepped back. “Your I.D? You do have identification?”
“Of course.” She yanked her passport from the folds of her tunic.
He grabbed it and looked from her picture to her face and back. “Venetian. Figures.” He turned and walked over to a truck parked on the side of the plaza. Val scrambled to collect herself and dashed after him. “Please, you have to understand. I need that.”
He tossed her bow and arrows into his truck and climbed in. He put her passport on a clipboard and began to scrawl information on a form.
“Please.” How could he be so heartless? A Cupid without their bow wasn’t a Cupid. They were just some blonde, incredibly cute, but useless, angel. “I’ll give you anything you want.”
“You can start by paying this.” He crammed a citation into her hand with her passport. He lifted his fingers to his brim and tipped his hat. “Ma-am.” His truck pulled away from the curb, leaving her soaking in the burnt-oil fumes of his vehicle’s exhaust.
Val glanced down at the slip. Five hundred dollars! He’d fined her five hundred dollars? “You bastard!” She jumped up and down. Now not only did she have to steal her bow back, she had to get a job. She was on the last of her pocket change. Why? Why couldn’t things go easy just once? Was that too much to ask?
Val watched him disappear. He wasn’t getting away that easy. If anyone knew anything about stalking quarry, it was a Cupid. The Cupid name was synonymous with tracking prey. Val grabbed her pack from under some vegetation where she’d hidden it. She unzipped and reached in.
Her tunic provided her invisibility—well, most times it provided invisibility but not with Mr. Personality. If she was going to merge into the general population, she had to blend. And that meant she needed to dress as one of the natives.
She shook out a pink, gray and white camouflage mini-skirt and a white baby tee that proclaimed in big bold letters, “Here Comes Trouble”.
When in Rome… She dropped her tunic and wiggled into the short skirt and tiny tee, whose bottom failed to reach her waist, leaving a sliver her midriff exposed. Val grabbed a pair of cork-soled wedges, slipped them on and stuffed her malfunctioning tunic in her pack. He shouldn’t have been able to see her regardless what he was. Something was definitely off. Perhaps her father had taken more than her wings?
Now if she could find her wayward arrow, she could find her bow. The arrow placed on top of a lover’s seat would always spin and point toward her enchanted quiver and bow.
She cupped her hand over her eyes and stared out over the plaza. A bench where couples necked would be a good start. There was a fountain… A crowd had begun to gather around the fountain in the plaza that had been all but empty before. What gives? Val rose up on her toes but could see nothing. Other than climbing the tree again, which there was no way in Hades she was doing that, she’d have to get closer to look.
Still early in the morning, something attracted attention. In her line of business, that was never good. It also happened to be the direction her misguided arrow had flown. Yeah, depending on what it hit, it could be real bad. She’d better get down there.
****
The local wildlife was getting way too wild. If she’d had wings, he’d swear she was an angel. Her blonde ringlets had been too perfect, tumbling around her shoulders in a sexy riot like Aphrodite gone bad. Baby-blue eyes and a Cupid’s bow mouth complemented her heart-shaped face. And a toga? In this day and age? It could mean one thing. Crazy, hot chick or a college student out on a dare.
If he hadn’t come along when he did, she’d have shot the sandwich shop owner, old man Winters, in the ass, which would make her the crazy, hot chick.
Dameon touched one of the arrow tips in the quiver and drew his finger back. Warmth spread through him. Maybe he should go back and make sure she was okay?
He shook his head and threw off the strange feeling that invaded. No. He had things to do and that didn’t include chasing after escaped mental patients, no matter how cute. And she was attractive, otherwise his horns wouldn’t have come out. She’d nailed it when she’d blurted out he was horny, but jumping angelic nuts wasn’t on his list of to-dos. Not today.
Not tomorrow. Not ever.
He’d already packed his schedule and somehow he’d even managed to work in a couple of hours of sleep. Then she’d come along and fouled up what would have been a desperately needed nap. Now as he came off the night shift, he’d have to file a report on the poacher, lock up the confiscated evidence and if he was lucky, hit his mattress for a mini snooze.
With all the hunters he’d run out of the area this week, he’d need it, as November rolled around and the annual animal massacres had commenced. Since most of the animal population around the town consisted of weres, the last thing he needed was one of them getting shot and their hide tacked up on the wall or used for a rug. Besides, he had a thing for fluffy bunnies and innocent animals, not just the supernatural kind. He be damned if anyone killed them.
By all means, he should have arrested her, but for some reason, he didn’t. He couldn’t explain his actions. Instincts told him not to, and he’d learned over the years to listen to them. Dameon turned down the street where his little bungalow was located.
Shower—report—bed. No time for angels.
****
Val sauntered into the plaza outside the town hall. The crowd had doubled in a matter of minutes. She jumped up and down behind the crowd, trying to get a glimpse of whatever held their attention. A woman with small children spun around and dragged her kids away.
“Disgusting,” she huffed as she brushed past.
Val stopped her. “What is it?”
The woman turned. “Vandals. Someone added to David.”
“David?”
“The fountain statue. The reproduction of Michelangelo’s David?” The woman raised a brow as though what she spoke about was blatantly obvious.
“Not from around here.” Val smiled and glanced down at a dark-haired little girl with big eyes who hung on her every word, waiting to see if she’d blurt out whatever it was that had her mother’s panties in a wad. “Just got into town this morning.”
“Oh.” The woman frowned. “Please don’t take that adornment as any indication what our community is like. We’re upstanding citizens—civilized—for the most part.” She glanced over her shoulder and gave a snort before she turned back to Val. “Welcome to our little town.”
“Thank you.” Val rose up on her toes and tried to peek over the crowd. “I’m sure it only was mischievous kids. Every town has them,” Val said and looked into the woman’s amber eyes—the most unusual color she’d ever seen. Something about this place…
“Well,” the woman huffed and tightened her grip on her children’s hands, “their parents ought to keep them on a leash. You don’t see my little pups prowling around unsupervised.” The woman stormed off with her children in tow.
“On a leash? Pups? You’d think they were animals,” Val muttered and elbowed her way closer. She broke through the crowd and emerged in front of the fountain.” Val gasped. “Great Zeus.” Her father would kill her if he found out. David stood proud in the middle, looking into the distance as though he were expecting someone... A very good replica, except—well, her arrow had enhanced certain features.
David had a boner.
Cupids were supposed to be discreet and that was about as un-discreet as one could get. How was she going to explain this? She eyed the statue’s erection.
She wasn’t. She was going to grab the evidence and run. Val kicked off her wedges and eyed the statue. She could really use invisibility right now, but wishing wasn’t going to fix the problem. Val sucked in a breath and worked her way toward the pool that surrounded the statue. Not too deep. She lifted her leg to step over the side and into the water, freezing in place when a bird landed on David’s penis and began to squawk. Val set her foot back down and leaned forward, looking closer.
The bird turned and flapped its wings, fixing her with a beady little stare. She’d seen that condescending look before, had grown up with it. Shit, shit, shit. That bird wasn’t a bird, it was her brother, and her father would have full disclosure by sundown. If he found out she’d lost her bow and arrows, there’d be Hades to pay. She had to get them back and quick, before her father came to town.
She spun around and spotted a sporting goods store. She wasn’t getting her arrow back now that her brother was around and she sure as hell couldn’t wait for him to leave. She’d have to find her bow the old-fashioned way and ask. If anyone would know where she could locate the yummy, albeit grouchy, fish and game guy, it would be someone in the sporting goods store. After all, they should sell hunting licenses.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
What am I working on?
Here's an excerpt from Legionarii:
Loyalists.
This time Brutus came in person to collect the woman. For ten years she’d eluded capture. Yet again, he found himself in the same situation. She’d disappeared, and now all that was left, was the knowledge she’d been there and a decoy who’d have no idea of her new location. Even if the decoy could point him in the right direction, he’d die to protect her instead of breaking his silence.
Unfortunate for him. Those who put themselves in Brutus’s path would pay—had paid. The decoy wouldn’t be the first or the last he’d killed, but this time Brutus intended to send a message, one that made it clear if they continued to hide her, things were going to get nasty. He now had the power of the LOP behind him. The weapon would demonstrate that perfectly. He stroked the sphere in his pocket and watched, knowing this would be the last time they’d pull this trick.
The man, a High Imperial Guard stepped from the safety of the building. He wore common Terran clothes, a long coat, jeans and a gray tee-shirt. Nothing about his appearance would give away his true identity. Certain he’d played his part, he glanced both ways up and down the quiet street, pulled the red wig from his head, shucked his coat and tossed both in the rubbish.
Brutus's brain flashed bright, "enemy-acquired" alerts. The man glanced both ways again, walked up to a black vehicle, opened the door and slid behind the wheel.
Brutus waited until the decoy’s attention fixed on the transporter’s ignition. He stepped from his hiding place, his prey still unaware he’d been stalked. Brutus’s fingers closed around a ball inside his trench coat. With a smile, he drew it out. The liquid gold swirled around his palm, a gazing globe that trapped the images of the world around in its skin and death inside its guts. A quick flip of the wrist, and it rolled under the car, catching the light and flashing brilliantly.
The clank from the ento-pod drew the guard’s attention. His gaze drifted up and stopped on Brutus. His eyes widened, his face went white. He scrambled around the compartment and lifted a communication device to his mouth. A thrill shivered through Brutus.
His com wouldn’t save him. Nothing could, but he would find out soon enough. The electro-magnetic pulse had already disabled it, and his escape vehicle.
The guard removed the device from his ear and took his eyes from Brutus. He shook it and then smacked it against his palm. The man lifted his chin, a thousand screams of horror upon his face. Brutus shook his head and smiled. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for the show, which didn’t take long.
The pod hatched and a swarm of bio-mech drones poured out, surrounding the BMW in a metallic fog. The chattering robotic insects chewed into the body of the car. A sound akin to a chainsaw screaming against metal echoed against the weathered brick buildings in the cul de sac. The phone dropped from the man’s hand. He hit the locks and fumbled with the ignition.
Brutus tipped his head and studied him. His enemy had grown weaker. Some faced death with bravery—dignity. From the look on the man’s face, he’d certainly soiled his seat. The wasps drilled through the doors. They altered the matter and pushed through the steel as though it was gelatin. The holes snapped shut behind them, solid, with no evidence left behind. The engine whined. “Rrrrr, rrrrrrr, click, click, click.”
The blood drained from the guard’s face. He hit the steering wheel and cranked on the keys again. “Rrrrrrrr, click, click, click.”
As the insects broke through the interior, he began to flail, swatting at the horde of ento-robites. For every one he hit, another two landed. Brutus watched as they filled the cab and bit into the man’s exposed flesh. They kept coming, entering his eyes, open mouth, nostrils and ears. Many penetrated his skin and slid under the surface along the muscle in little lumps. Deeper and deeper they moved, boring into his body as though it was rotten fruit. The man clawed at his flesh. He raked, bucked, thrashed and shrieked.
No one who cared could hear him. His biggest mistake had been to lure Brutus to the empty warehouse and remote location. Brutus reached into his coat and fingered the button on the controller. A smile curled his mouth and he pushed, sparing the man the last moments of agony. He wasn’t a monster, just someone who was prepared to do what he needed to, to get what he wanted, and his enemy would have no allusions after today.
Blue light glowed from behind the guard’s eyes, lighting him like a jack-o-lantern. A wet sucking sound, accompanied by a high-pitched whine as he imploded and collapsed into a puddle of smoking skin on the front seat.
The pile incandesced, until all that remained was greasy soot and a pair of legs. The charred stumps were the only evidence a man once sat there. The authorities here would scratch their heads when they discovered the remains. Another victim of spontaneous combustion.
They may have saved her this time. Next time there’d be no place to run. He now knew someone in his inside circle was feeding the loyalists information and the informant would be flushed out. When he was, he’d lead him straight to the heir. Brutus turned on his heel and spoke into the com attached to his collar, contacting the one man he knew he could trust—his brother. “We’ve got an informant on the inside. Find him and we’ll find her.”
Six years later…
A loud explosion rocked the tower where Zoë sat. Yanked out of her daydream, her eyes snapped open and scanned the horizon for the source. More than likely, it came from the mines that honeycombed the subterranean crust of Odroxia, so common they were like a lullaby to the Droxi children.
Every day the explosions spewed toxins into the air and sent men to their graves in the hundreds. Working below was the final destination for many. Though the blasts were constant, she’d never gotten used them as had the indigenous people, who didn’t seem to notice the constant barrage, even when the explosions heralded death like an angel’s trumpet.
The wail of sirens filled the night. Those were new. Zoë leaned forward and narrowed her eyes to study the skyline. The thick haze that wrapped the countryside danced and twisted before her. Dark shapes began to emerge from the fog. A green ball of fire mushroomed over the horizon, backlighting the silhouettes of ships that streaked toward the city and the embassy where she sat.
Reality jolted through her, sending cold shooting through her guts. Zoe’s heart staggered several beats and her cup slipped from her hand, shattering into splinters on the floor. “My God, an invasion.” She had to get everyone to the underground bunkers. Another blast lit the city, sending a gruesome puce glow rolling across the skyline, illuminating the now closer ships.
Zoë leapt up and ran for the lower levels where her brother and sister slept. She had to get them to the shelter before the strike.
“Zoë. Zoë. Zoëeeeee…” Shrieks shrill like a cat being tortured but worse, much worse, indicated at least one of her siblings was awake. Her sister’s screams reverberated through the corridor. The lights flickered and went out and the building trembled. The invaders were closer than she thought. They’d certainly hit the refinery ten city blocks away. Another explosion shook the building. Zoë staggered into the wall. The embassy would be next.
“Zoë!” Another supersonic scream, several frequencies higher.
Invasion alarms continued to blast, blending with Kimi’s terror. The building rocked from another explosion, louder, more violent than before. Zoë stumbled, hit the other side of the corridor and found the entrance to the stairwell. She lunged for the stairs, taking two at a time.
Skylights illuminated her path with gray light. Dark shadows slipped overhead and created a strobe light effect, throwing the nightmare into slow motion. The building vibrated under her feet and its metal frame groaned. She stopped and grabbed the rail.
A boom shook the night, this time on top of them.
Loosened debris began to hail around her, blocks of stone from the walls and ceiling, chunks of plaster and mortar, followed by larger sections that crashed around her in heavy clunks. She dropped and clung to the rail. Ducking her head, she covered it with her arm and waited for the building to stop shaking. As soon as it settled and the debris stopped its assault, she pulled herself up and started back down, this time working her way around the chunks on the stairs, doing her best to hurry.
Kimi screamed again followed by another explosion. Zoë’s heart pounded. She tilted her head and listened. Nothing but the sound of ships tearing through the sky and the building as it groaned. Seconds later, the wall next to the stairwell fell away, leaving her looking out into the night. The load-bearing wall that kept the weight of the building off the lower rooms, remained intact, but one more blast would surely bring it down. “I’m coming.” Silence and dust. Zoë raised her hand to her mouth and coughed.
“Kimi!” Zoë stepped down onto the next level and it crumbled away. Her feet slid from under her. The back of her skull smacked against the edge of one of the steps in a hollow thud.
She reached for the rail as the world around her began to shift and skitter before her gaze. Focusing on the skylights, she tried to control the vertigo. The metallic tang of blood mixed with smoke penetrated her nostrils and chalky dust pelted her face. Overhead the roar of more approaching ships. The building vibrated from their sonic engines.
A large section of the ceiling swung by an iron thread, creaking as it rocked back and forth for several moments and snapped free. With only heartbeat to react, she rolled to her side. The block glanced off the step and smacked the middle of her back before it bounced down the stairwell. It echoed like a church bell against the metal railing as it tumbled to the bottom, testifying how close she’d come to death.
The sounds of the ships grew deafening, their roars filled her ears.
Dear God, they’d all die. She had to get to them. A band of pain shot around her ribs when she sucked in a breath to cry. Heat blasted through her cranium followed by nausea. Zoë tried to draw another lungful of air, but only managed a small sip of plaster dust and sticky, emaciated oxygen. In desperation, she pushed with her arms to roll. Pain struck so severe she her vision faded and only intense focus brought it back. She pulled in another desperate breath and shoved again, but her body refused to follow. So she pushed herself over the stairs, falling toward the next level. Bright bolts of stabbing light and shooting stars burst across her vision as she slammed into the hard metal decking. Pain pounded in her head like an atomic sledgehammer and drove a spike of agony through her skull. Darkness sealed in around her and sucked reality away.
Loyalists.
This time Brutus came in person to collect the woman. For ten years she’d eluded capture. Yet again, he found himself in the same situation. She’d disappeared, and now all that was left, was the knowledge she’d been there and a decoy who’d have no idea of her new location. Even if the decoy could point him in the right direction, he’d die to protect her instead of breaking his silence.
Unfortunate for him. Those who put themselves in Brutus’s path would pay—had paid. The decoy wouldn’t be the first or the last he’d killed, but this time Brutus intended to send a message, one that made it clear if they continued to hide her, things were going to get nasty. He now had the power of the LOP behind him. The weapon would demonstrate that perfectly. He stroked the sphere in his pocket and watched, knowing this would be the last time they’d pull this trick.
The man, a High Imperial Guard stepped from the safety of the building. He wore common Terran clothes, a long coat, jeans and a gray tee-shirt. Nothing about his appearance would give away his true identity. Certain he’d played his part, he glanced both ways up and down the quiet street, pulled the red wig from his head, shucked his coat and tossed both in the rubbish.
Brutus's brain flashed bright, "enemy-acquired" alerts. The man glanced both ways again, walked up to a black vehicle, opened the door and slid behind the wheel.
Brutus waited until the decoy’s attention fixed on the transporter’s ignition. He stepped from his hiding place, his prey still unaware he’d been stalked. Brutus’s fingers closed around a ball inside his trench coat. With a smile, he drew it out. The liquid gold swirled around his palm, a gazing globe that trapped the images of the world around in its skin and death inside its guts. A quick flip of the wrist, and it rolled under the car, catching the light and flashing brilliantly.
The clank from the ento-pod drew the guard’s attention. His gaze drifted up and stopped on Brutus. His eyes widened, his face went white. He scrambled around the compartment and lifted a communication device to his mouth. A thrill shivered through Brutus.
His com wouldn’t save him. Nothing could, but he would find out soon enough. The electro-magnetic pulse had already disabled it, and his escape vehicle.
The guard removed the device from his ear and took his eyes from Brutus. He shook it and then smacked it against his palm. The man lifted his chin, a thousand screams of horror upon his face. Brutus shook his head and smiled. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for the show, which didn’t take long.
The pod hatched and a swarm of bio-mech drones poured out, surrounding the BMW in a metallic fog. The chattering robotic insects chewed into the body of the car. A sound akin to a chainsaw screaming against metal echoed against the weathered brick buildings in the cul de sac. The phone dropped from the man’s hand. He hit the locks and fumbled with the ignition.
Brutus tipped his head and studied him. His enemy had grown weaker. Some faced death with bravery—dignity. From the look on the man’s face, he’d certainly soiled his seat. The wasps drilled through the doors. They altered the matter and pushed through the steel as though it was gelatin. The holes snapped shut behind them, solid, with no evidence left behind. The engine whined. “Rrrrr, rrrrrrr, click, click, click.”
The blood drained from the guard’s face. He hit the steering wheel and cranked on the keys again. “Rrrrrrrr, click, click, click.”
As the insects broke through the interior, he began to flail, swatting at the horde of ento-robites. For every one he hit, another two landed. Brutus watched as they filled the cab and bit into the man’s exposed flesh. They kept coming, entering his eyes, open mouth, nostrils and ears. Many penetrated his skin and slid under the surface along the muscle in little lumps. Deeper and deeper they moved, boring into his body as though it was rotten fruit. The man clawed at his flesh. He raked, bucked, thrashed and shrieked.
No one who cared could hear him. His biggest mistake had been to lure Brutus to the empty warehouse and remote location. Brutus reached into his coat and fingered the button on the controller. A smile curled his mouth and he pushed, sparing the man the last moments of agony. He wasn’t a monster, just someone who was prepared to do what he needed to, to get what he wanted, and his enemy would have no allusions after today.
Blue light glowed from behind the guard’s eyes, lighting him like a jack-o-lantern. A wet sucking sound, accompanied by a high-pitched whine as he imploded and collapsed into a puddle of smoking skin on the front seat.
The pile incandesced, until all that remained was greasy soot and a pair of legs. The charred stumps were the only evidence a man once sat there. The authorities here would scratch their heads when they discovered the remains. Another victim of spontaneous combustion.
They may have saved her this time. Next time there’d be no place to run. He now knew someone in his inside circle was feeding the loyalists information and the informant would be flushed out. When he was, he’d lead him straight to the heir. Brutus turned on his heel and spoke into the com attached to his collar, contacting the one man he knew he could trust—his brother. “We’ve got an informant on the inside. Find him and we’ll find her.”
Six years later…
A loud explosion rocked the tower where Zoë sat. Yanked out of her daydream, her eyes snapped open and scanned the horizon for the source. More than likely, it came from the mines that honeycombed the subterranean crust of Odroxia, so common they were like a lullaby to the Droxi children.
Every day the explosions spewed toxins into the air and sent men to their graves in the hundreds. Working below was the final destination for many. Though the blasts were constant, she’d never gotten used them as had the indigenous people, who didn’t seem to notice the constant barrage, even when the explosions heralded death like an angel’s trumpet.
The wail of sirens filled the night. Those were new. Zoë leaned forward and narrowed her eyes to study the skyline. The thick haze that wrapped the countryside danced and twisted before her. Dark shapes began to emerge from the fog. A green ball of fire mushroomed over the horizon, backlighting the silhouettes of ships that streaked toward the city and the embassy where she sat.
Reality jolted through her, sending cold shooting through her guts. Zoe’s heart staggered several beats and her cup slipped from her hand, shattering into splinters on the floor. “My God, an invasion.” She had to get everyone to the underground bunkers. Another blast lit the city, sending a gruesome puce glow rolling across the skyline, illuminating the now closer ships.
Zoë leapt up and ran for the lower levels where her brother and sister slept. She had to get them to the shelter before the strike.
“Zoë. Zoë. Zoëeeeee…” Shrieks shrill like a cat being tortured but worse, much worse, indicated at least one of her siblings was awake. Her sister’s screams reverberated through the corridor. The lights flickered and went out and the building trembled. The invaders were closer than she thought. They’d certainly hit the refinery ten city blocks away. Another explosion shook the building. Zoë staggered into the wall. The embassy would be next.
“Zoë!” Another supersonic scream, several frequencies higher.
Invasion alarms continued to blast, blending with Kimi’s terror. The building rocked from another explosion, louder, more violent than before. Zoë stumbled, hit the other side of the corridor and found the entrance to the stairwell. She lunged for the stairs, taking two at a time.
Skylights illuminated her path with gray light. Dark shadows slipped overhead and created a strobe light effect, throwing the nightmare into slow motion. The building vibrated under her feet and its metal frame groaned. She stopped and grabbed the rail.
A boom shook the night, this time on top of them.
Loosened debris began to hail around her, blocks of stone from the walls and ceiling, chunks of plaster and mortar, followed by larger sections that crashed around her in heavy clunks. She dropped and clung to the rail. Ducking her head, she covered it with her arm and waited for the building to stop shaking. As soon as it settled and the debris stopped its assault, she pulled herself up and started back down, this time working her way around the chunks on the stairs, doing her best to hurry.
Kimi screamed again followed by another explosion. Zoë’s heart pounded. She tilted her head and listened. Nothing but the sound of ships tearing through the sky and the building as it groaned. Seconds later, the wall next to the stairwell fell away, leaving her looking out into the night. The load-bearing wall that kept the weight of the building off the lower rooms, remained intact, but one more blast would surely bring it down. “I’m coming.” Silence and dust. Zoë raised her hand to her mouth and coughed.
“Kimi!” Zoë stepped down onto the next level and it crumbled away. Her feet slid from under her. The back of her skull smacked against the edge of one of the steps in a hollow thud.
She reached for the rail as the world around her began to shift and skitter before her gaze. Focusing on the skylights, she tried to control the vertigo. The metallic tang of blood mixed with smoke penetrated her nostrils and chalky dust pelted her face. Overhead the roar of more approaching ships. The building vibrated from their sonic engines.
A large section of the ceiling swung by an iron thread, creaking as it rocked back and forth for several moments and snapped free. With only heartbeat to react, she rolled to her side. The block glanced off the step and smacked the middle of her back before it bounced down the stairwell. It echoed like a church bell against the metal railing as it tumbled to the bottom, testifying how close she’d come to death.
The sounds of the ships grew deafening, their roars filled her ears.
Dear God, they’d all die. She had to get to them. A band of pain shot around her ribs when she sucked in a breath to cry. Heat blasted through her cranium followed by nausea. Zoë tried to draw another lungful of air, but only managed a small sip of plaster dust and sticky, emaciated oxygen. In desperation, she pushed with her arms to roll. Pain struck so severe she her vision faded and only intense focus brought it back. She pulled in another desperate breath and shoved again, but her body refused to follow. So she pushed herself over the stairs, falling toward the next level. Bright bolts of stabbing light and shooting stars burst across her vision as she slammed into the hard metal decking. Pain pounded in her head like an atomic sledgehammer and drove a spike of agony through her skull. Darkness sealed in around her and sucked reality away.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
I'm Guest Blogging Today
http://www.google.com/url?sa=X&q=http://theembraced.blogspot.com/
http://www.google.com/url?sa=X&q=http://naughtyinthebackseat.com/blog/
http://paranormalromantics.blogspot.com/ And my ususal Sat post on Paranormal Romantics.
Dawn
Saturday, January 8, 2011
First Grave on the Right by Darynda Jones
The letter with it said that Darynda's debut novel is set to release this Thursday the 13th. Can I get it read and a have review up in time? Plueaseeeeeee, I'm going to burn through this baby. Picked it up last night for twenty minutes and I'm on page 53.
What do I think? Hmmmm. You'll have to come back and see.
For those that know me, suffice it to say, I think I'll break out Bunny for this one.
D L
Sunday, December 12, 2010
LRC Freebies.
Please, one entry per person.
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